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the emergency bride clause
publish date:
2026-08-18 23:29:35
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Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi all the ways he gets under my skin
Six hours later, I discovered that a human being could apparently survive on one espresso, two bottles of water, and half a turkey sandwich eaten while reading access logs.That didn't mean anyone should live like that.I’m simply testing a theory.Conference Room A was now covered in fresh printouts. There were four laptops, two chargers tangled together beneath the table, and a whiteboard where I'd mapped out the access structure for Project Glass House and how it connected to our current client's workspace.IT had managed to secure the audit logs and shut down the compromised credential. Several other folders had also been checked, but so far, there was no evidence that the entire client database had been accessed.Which was good. Not good enough to make me relax, but at least I didn't have to start considering a career as a full-time socialite just yet.I’m comparing two metadata exports when the conference room door opened.“Boss?” Dianna called from behind me.“What?”“Your husb
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi pretty girls keep receipts
I opened the same project folder and pulled up the two documents side by side.There was an additional line item in the floral budget that had only been approved after yesterday's client call. The amount matched down to the last digit, including a revision code that should've appeared only in our working file.Someone wasn't just pretending to be GALA. Someone knew where GALA kept its work.I closed the email, opened the audit history, and pulled my chair closer to the table. “Okay,” I said. “Let's find out who thinks they were invited into my house.”Dianna turned her laptop toward me. “IT already checked the internal accounts with access to that budget. There hasn't been any suspicious login activity on our accounts since yesterday.”“On our accounts,” I repeated. “What about the shared workspace?”“They're pulling those logs now.”I opened the document history, went through the revisions one by one, and compared the timestamps against the copy sent to the client.Most of it looked
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi thank you, darling, now step aside
“I can handle my own company, Rafael.”“No one said you couldn't.”“Great. Then this conversation is over.”I turned toward the stairs with my laptop tucked under my arm, leaving my husband in the sitting area before he could come up with another explanation for why every problem in my life required Ricciardi intervention.Unfortunately, fifteen minutes later, while I was standing in the middle of the walk-in closet looking for the black blazer I'd seen on the left rack earlier, Rafael appeared in the doorway.Well, he had an extraordinary talent for showing up right when I was starting to enjoy his absence.“Where are you going?”I turned, still holding two hangers. “Disneyland.”Rafael glanced at the laptop bag on the ottoman, then at the charcoal pencil skirt I'd just taken out. “Dressed like that?”“Corporate Disneyland. There are spreadsheets and people who could lose their jobs.”He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. His black T-shirt had been replaced by a white button-
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi a little history, a little forgery
I picked up my phone from the counter and opened an old photo album I'd kept for years. There were thousands of pictures in there, organized by year, from two babies who barely had any hair to the two little terrorists currently arguing over whether whipped cream could be used as a hair product.I found the hospital picture.On the screen, I was lying in a hospital bed with messy black hair, a pale face, exhausted eyes, and two tiny babies wrapped in white blankets against my chest.Jesus.I really looked like I'd just given birth to two human beings.Oh, wait.I had just given birth to two human beings.“Here.” I handed Rafael my phone. “No comments about my hair. I'd just gone through childbirth, and I'm not accepting beauty criticism.”Rafael took it.He studied the picture for so long that Al started trying to steal the last of Gabby's whipped cream with the tip of his plastic shark.“Alvaro, no.”“But shark hungry.”“Your shark literally just had breakfast with us.”Rafael zoomed
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi a little too much like a family
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that Rafael was no longer in bed.The second was that the pillow I'd designated as an international border last night was now lying on the floor beside the bed, while most of my duvet had somehow migrated to the side where he'd been sleeping.I lifted my head off the pillow and surveyed the crime scene.Interesting.There was an indentation on Rafael's pillow, slightly rumpled sheets in the middle, and one corner of the duvet hanging so low it almost touched the carpet. No signs of a struggle, although I was fairly certain someone had violated my territorial sovereignty while I was asleep.I pulled back what was left of my duvet and checked the clock on the nightstand.7:42.Way too early to launch an international investigation, especially without coffee.I decided all evidence would be considered inadmissible until someone produced CCTV footage showing who had actually crossed the border first. Considering Rafael had a security system tha
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi until the next wave comes
I suddenly found myself thinking about four birthdays, the nights when one of the kids had a fever, the first pair of shoes I'd picked out for them myself, and the time Al cried because his haircut made his ears look too big.All of it had happened without Rafael. And now he had to piece it all together, one story at a time, from other people.I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the pillow and let out a quiet breath. “You don't have to learn everything tonight.”“I know.”“Because they're not going to stop giving you new material tomorrow.”“I know that too.”“Gabby will probably make you sign a contract to become her tour manager before breakfast.”“I'll have legal review it.”I snorted.He smiled, and his gaze dropped briefly to my mouth.He leaned a little closer, and I immediately reached out and pushed his face away with my palm.“No.”Rafael stopped, his cheek pressed against my hand, before lifting his eyes to mine again. “You don't even know what I was going to do.”“I know.”
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi Platinum Barbie
Seven p.m., and Lake Como looked like an expensive postcard that had been photographed to death. Deep blue, almost black. Villa lights scattered messily across the water. A thin veil of fog hovering low, like a cheap Instagram filter no one bothered to turn off.From the study window facing the lak
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi The Wife
The small pan hissed softly as the oil heated, the sharp scent of roughly crushed garlic already filling the kitchen before I realized I was humming. Fuck.A Shakira song.Wildly off-brand for this morning’s mood, which had gone to hell at five twelve a.m. sharp, when Arsen, the technological basta
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi Glass Mansion, Soft Monsters
Five Years Later.“AL, STOP PULLING MY HAIR, I’M A PRINCESS!”“UGLY PRINCESS!”Something small, warm, and heavy slammed into my waist. Then something else landed on my stomach. I didn’t wake up because of an alarm, but because two tiny bodies decided I was their personal playground.“Oh God,” I ras
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi Sunlight and Divorce Papers
I woke up because the sun slapped me in the face. White-gold light speared through the thin curtains, landing directly on my eyelids that had never volunteered to become solar panels. I blinked slowly, trying to gather the pieces of my soul scattered across the sheets.The clock on the nightstand r
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