Chapter 5

Sydney

My heels echoed softly down the hall, the clink of glass and laughter still fading behind me as I followed just a few steps behind my father and Bryce.

Dinner had ended smoothly—too smoothly if you asked me. Bryce had gone back to speaking numbers like he hadn’t just agreed to marry me as casually as signing off on a shipment. I was still trying to catch up, trying to decide if I was amused or annoyed. Probably both.

My father slowed near the front door and turned to shake Bryce’s hand. “Well, son, this is the start of something good. I’ll have my assistant arrange the preliminary terms by morning.”

Bryce nodded once, all that cool indifference still etched onto his face. “We’ll be in touch, Joseph. Thanks again.”

Great. Now they’re on first-name basis.

He glanced at me briefly. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. Nothing. And still… my stomach tightened.

Then, just as he turned toward the door, Bryce paused and looked back over his shoulder.

“Actually,” he said smoothly, “mind if I use the restroom before I go?”

My father gestured down the hallway without a second thought. “You remember where it is.”

Bryce shook his head but didn’t move.

Instead, his gaze flicked to me. “Care to show me?”

It wasn’t really a question.

My brows lifted, but I smoothed them down just as quickly. “Of course.”

He fell into step beside me, his stride lazy, his hand still shoved in his pocket like he wasn’t about to pull off something so deliberate.

The moment we turned the corner, and I felt the shift, and I knew exactly what he was doing.

He wasn’t here for the damn bathroom.

We reached the powder room at the end of the hallway, the small one tucked between the wall of family portraits and the old arched mirror. I moved to open the door for him and barely had time to step aside before his hand wrapped around my wrist and he pulled me inside with him.

The door shut behind us with a quiet click.

“What the hell—” I didn’t get to finish the sentence.

My back hit the door, not harshly but firmly, and suddenly we were too close. The powder room was small. Ridiculously small. And Bryce Westin took up every inch of the air in it.

His scent hit me first, like clean soap and something deeper, something expensive and dangerous.

His hand was still near my waist, though not touching, and I could feel the heat of it like it had weight.

“This is the smallest bathroom in the entire house,” I said dryly. “And this is the one you chose to corner me in?”

Bryce’s lips tilted, just slightly. “I assume you have something you want to say to me outside the presence of your father.”

That smirk. That voice. I hated the way my skin reacted before my brain could.

I crossed my arms. “I assume you have something you want to say. I’m not the one who dragged us in here.”

He made a sound that somewhat sounded like a chuckle. “You don’t take me as the type to just go ahead with anything men dictate, Sydney. So why didn’t you say anything?”

“Is this an interrogation, or are you going to tell me the reason you want to talk where my father wont hear?”

He didn’t move, just leaned one shoulder back against the door like he owned the damn space.

“Don’t divorce him.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I pushed him back with both hands, not hard, but enough to get him off the door. He stumbled back two steps, hands up in mock surrender.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life,” I said, voice sharper than intended. “If you didn’t want to go through with the whole marriage proposal, you didn’t have to.”

“I agreed because I wanted to,” he said simply, like it was obvious. “Your father’s right. It benefits both our companies. But that’s not what this is about.”

“Then what the hell is it about?”

He stepped toward the small vanity, resting his hand on the edge of the sink like he needed to physically ground himself. “Eric is doing something at Prestige. Something shady. It hasn’t hit the press yet, but it will. And when it does, it’s going to ripple through both our companies.”

“What exactly is he doing?”

“Misreporting financials. Transferring assets under dummy companies tied to offshore accounts. He’s staging something—either a hostile buyout or trying to drain Prestige quietly. I don’t have the full picture yet.”

I stared at him, because I couldn’t speak. Even in my past life, I had no idea.

Eric was doing all this behind my back and I had no clue? And it was all because of me. I gave him that access.

The idea that Eric would do something so underhanded shouldn’t have surprised me. But somehow, it still made my chest twist. Because I should’ve known better. This was how he was able to take over our company so easily in my past life.

Bryce continued, “If you divorce him now, you’ll spook him. Whatever he’s planning, he’ll escalate it, or worse, bury the trail. But if you stay? You have access, insight and influence.”

“You want me to spy on him?”

“I want you to be smart,” he said. “Use what you have while you still have it. Then once we’ve cornered him, hit him with the divorce.”

I scoffed. “So… you want me to have a business affair with you, instead of divorcing the asshole?”

His mouth twitched again. Not quite a smile. But definitely not denial.

He leaned against the sink, arms folded now, and I caught the flex of his biceps beneath that stupid polo.

“Whatever happened to you?” he asked, too casually. “Last time I checked, you were head over heels.”

“Last time you checked?” I repeated.

His eyes flickered with something… surprise? Panic? Whatever it was, it disappeared too quickly for me to pin it down.

“It’s a figure of speech,” he said flatly.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s none of your business. And for the record, I had my own plan to make the asshole pay. Divorcing him was the first step.”

He nodded slowly. “So we both hate him. Interesting.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Why do you hate him?” I asked, tilting my head.

He didn’t even blink. “None of your business. Why do you?”

“None of your business,” I through back, but he seemed almost… pleased?

“Touche.”

The room suddenly felt smaller and hotter. The air stretched between us, thick with something neither of us wanted to name.

Bryce pushed off the sink and closed the space between us again. Not touching. Just near enough for my breath to hitch.

“Look, Sydney,” he said, and I hated how my stomach fluttered when he said my name like that. “I don’t care what he did to make you hate him. I’m not here to stop you from getting revenge. But if you’re going to do it… do it right.”

His voice dropped, low and rough against my ear. “Let me help you.”

I turned my head, our faces close enough that I could see the flecks of darker grey in his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want to burn him down just as much as you do.”

There was a pause. A charged, volatile pause where the air seemed to spark between us.

“Besides,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost amused. “Revenge doesn’t have to be a lonely game. We can make it fun.”

“Fun,” I repeated, deadpan.

He smiled again. That slow, calculated smirk that shouldn’t have made my knees weak, but absolutely did.

“Very fun.”

I glared at him, but I didn’t stop him when he leaned a little closer, his hand reaching behind me.

The doorknob turned under his palm.

“Why would you want to help me?” I asked. “I’m sure you have better things to do than help me get revenge on my husband.”

“I do,” he murmured, pulling the door open and stepping out, “But I always make time for petty tasks. Especially when they involve pretty little brunettes.”

My mouth parted, a retort rising to the tip of my tongue at his sarcasm, but he was already gone.

Just like that.

I stood there alone, the door wide open, the hallway empty.

My heart was pounding. My skin was warm. And worst of all?

I was considering it.

I was actually considering it.

Not just staying married to Eric a little longer—but working with Bryce. Teaming up with a man I didn’t trust, didn’t like, and for some reason… couldn’t stop thinking about.

This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go.