No Longer Yours.

ISABELLE.

For my twenty-third birthday, my husband, William Hawthorne, sent me a thousand roses every day of the month, along with gifts custom-made for me. 

His birthday was ten days away, and I was planning to return the gesture with a surprise every day until June 11. 

Today’s surprise was homemade chocolate soufflé. 

I had just set it in the oven when I heard Brandy barking. I took off my oven mitts and followed her outside. 

Then I froze.

Five luxury cars with tinted windows were parked in a row, but the cars weren’t what alarmed me. 

It was the man leaning against one of them.

Roman Valenti. 

My stepbrother and the source of my nightmares. 

Brandy was in his arms, wriggling excitedly as she tried to lick his face. 

Traitor. 

Who said dogs were loyal to their owners? 

“Looks like only Brandy missed me,” Roman said. 

His voice was almost how I remembered it, but there was a new richness to it. 

Deeper, perhaps. 

I shook off the thought and squared my shoulders. 

“Why are you here? We had an agreement.” 

His eyes stayed on mine as he stroked Brandy leisurely. 

“I came precisely because of that agreement, Princess.” 

I tensed. 

What did he mean? 

He pushed away from the car and walked towards me. When he reached me, he held out his phone.

“I think it is time for you to come home” 

Come home? 

I stepped back again. “I already told you. I’m not a part of that world anymore.” 

His lips curled into an almost devilish smile. “Then you should have kept a tighter leash on your husband.” 

I took the phone from him. 

On the screen was a photograph of a man and a woman hugging. Just a hug. But something about the way they leaned into each other made them look like a couple.

I squinted. Their faces weren’t clear, but I recognized William.

I had chosen that suit for him this morning.

And the woman…

I brought the phone closer, my heart beating faster.

Chloe Ashford.

When had she come back?

My eyes lingered on William’s arms around her. For a moment, I forgot Roman was standing in front of me.

Then I handed the phone back, forcing my expression into something I hoped looked indifferent.

“Is this why you came all the way here? To show me my husband hugging his childhood friend?”

Roman tilted his head, looking amused.

“No.”

His eyes held mine.

“I just wanted an excuse to see you.”

Nothing prepared me for that honesty. Or the intensity behind it.

For a few seconds, I could only stare into his green eyes.

“Well, you’ve seen me,” I finally said. “Now leave.”

He didn’t. Instead, he took another step closer. 

“You don’t seem worried at all. Do you trust him that much?” 

“Chloe is his childhood friend. They are at an airport, so I’m guessing she arrived today,” I defended. 

He nodded slowly. Almost like he was trying to process my words. 

“Princess,” he called lightly, “you have become very tolerant.” 

Before I could reply, his gaze shifted to my hair.

“Since when do you like wearing your hair in such a tight bun?”

He reached up and pulled out the pin holding it in place.

My reply died as my hair fell around my shoulders. His fingers brushed the back of my neck, and a shiver ran through me.

I hated that he could still do that.

He stepped back, wearing the mischievous smile that used to make my heart race when I was sixteen.

“Now, this is much better.”

I frowned. “Roman.”

His smile faded.

He passed Brandy to me, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

For a second, I stood perfectly still.

By the time I remembered to move, he was already walking away.

When had his shoulders gotten so broad?

A man stepped out of the car and held the door open for him. Roman glanced back over his shoulder.

“I think you should be worried, Princess.”

The first car pulled away. Roman got into the third, and I stood there until the last one disappeared.

I knew the other cars were filled with armed men. Men who would die before allowing anyone to reach Roman.  

My mind returned to the photograph, and I shook my head. 

This was probably Roman’s attempt to cause trouble between us. He must have been watching William so closely. So carefully. 

After all these years, the best he could find was a photograph of a hug. 

I managed a small smile. 

But he didn’t know William. He didn’t know that my husband shared his location with me every day. 

Or that I went on most of his business trips because he couldn’t bear to be away from me for more than two days. 

I pinched at Brandy’s ears as I carried her inside. “You traitor. How could you run to him like that?” I scolded. 

She barked happily, clearly unimpressed by my complaint.

—— 

I woke up as someone lifted me. 

The familiar scent of bergamot and musk reached me, and I snuggled against my husband’s chest. 

“William,” I murmured. “Are you home late, or did I fall asleep too early?” 

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against my cheek.  

“I’m home late.”

I stayed curled against him as he climbed the stairs. It was only when he gently placed me on the bed that I peeled my eyes open. 

William sat beside me and began massaging my fingers. 

“Did you spend too long painting today? Your fingers were trembling when I came in.”

I shook my head.

“I didn’t paint. I was making chocolate soufflé for you.”

His eyes lit up, but the pleasure faded quickly.

“You could have asked the chef to make it,” he chided.

I rolled my eyes. “You like mine best. It was supposed to be today’s surprise, but you came home late.”

The soufflé had risen beautifully. Then it fell while I waited.

“I’m sorry.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead.

Roman flashed through my mind, and I silently cursed him for it.

“Chloe came back today,” William continued. “I stopped by the Ashford estate after work for dinner.”

I feigned surprise. “She’s back?”

He nodded. “I picked her up at the airport this morning. She wanted to come by and see you, but I didn’t want her disturbing you.”

See? He told me without me having to ask.

This was the kind of man William was.

His hands moved to another finger, and I glanced down when I sensed something different. 

William was sliding the ring from my finger. “Why are you taking it off?” 

“I don’t like it anymore,” he said calmly.  

I waited for him to explain. When he didn’t, I asked,  “Why?”

“I saw Chloe’s sister wearing the same ring.”

He slipped it into his pocket. 

“I will have a new one custom-made for you in a few days.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care, I like this one.” 

He gave me a pointed look. “I care.” 

“I am not comfortable knowing my woman is wearing the same ring as someone else.” 

I stared at him for seconds. When it became clear that he was not going to let this go, I turned away, making no effort to hide my annoyance. 

“Okay. Whatever.” 

He leaned in to kiss me, and I held my breath.

The kiss was warm and gentle. Familiar enough to ease some of the tightness in my chest.

“You know how I am,” he murmured against my lips. “I can’t stand anything tainting you.”

I sighed. “I know.”

William was simple in many ways, but there were things he was particular about.

Hair. Accessories. Clothes. Perfume.

While other men chased limited-edition cars, William liked to make me a limited edition.

So, as always, I let it go.

“You might as well ask them to sell you the design rights,” I joked.

He laughed. “That would be better.”

My thumb brushed the bare place where my ring had been.

“By the way, I’ll be home late tomorrow, too,” he said. “The Ashfords are throwing a welcome party for Chloe.”

“Should I come?”

He paused.

It was brief, but I noticed.

“It’s mostly business,” he said. “You’d be bored.”

Normally, I would have agreed. Those parties weren’t my idea of a good evening.

But now I kept thinking about the pause before his answer.

Would I have noticed it if Roman hadn’t come?

He stood up and changed out of his clothes and talked about work and the diner. 

He mentioned that Chloe brought me a bottle of perfume, but he gave it out. 

I smiled at that. If Chloe knew William well enough, she would have known that he would never let his woman wear a perfume someone else had chosen.

I almost reached for my phone to send Roman a message. 

Something that read: With William, I had nothing to worry about. 

But I didn’t. 

Roman and that part of my life were dead to me.

I closed my eyes, listening to my husband move around the room. 

Yet, as I drifted toward sleep, it was another man’s voice I heard. 

“I think you should be worried, Princess.”