All Chapters of Her last name, His claim: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

A car was waiting when we landed. "Where are we going first?" I asked as we drove into the city."The penthouse. Drop off your bag. Then the office.""You're really taking me to the office tonight?""You'll see."The house was in Midtown, sleek, modern, impossibly tall. The kind of place that screamed money."Mr. Wayne," the security greeted him like an old friend. "Welcome back.""Thanks, Marco. This is Elena. My wife."Marco's eyes widened slightly, surprised but professional. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wayne.We rode the elevator to the top floor, and when Enzo opened the door, I understood why it was called a penthouse.Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A living room that was bigger than my entire apartment. A bedroom with a bed that looked like it belonged in a magazine."This is where you stay when you're here?" I asked."Usually.""Enzo, this is…""Too much?" he offered, reading my expression."A little."He came up behind me, hands gentle on my shoulders.

We flew back to Maplewood on Sunday evening, and by Monday morning, it felt like the New York trip had been a dream.Except it wasn't.Because Enzo was still texting me constantly, still making me smile at my phone like an idiot, still making plans to see me every spare moment he had."You're glowing again," Maya observed on Tuesday afternoon.I was restocking the romance section, ironic, considering my life had apparently become one."I am not glowing.""You are. You've been glowing since you got back from New York. So spill. What happened?""Nothing happened.""Liar."I sighed, abandoning the books. "Fine. It was really good. He showed me his company, introduced me to everyone, took me to his penthouse…""Wait, wait, wait." Judy appeared from around the corner like she had a sixth sense for gossip. "Penthouse? As in, you stayed at his place?""In the guest room.""Sure you did.""I did! We just... talked. And kissed. But mostly talked.""Mostly," Olive repeated, joining us. "What's

The library was empty.It was supposed to be my safe place, and usually it was. But tonight, with the shelves casting shadows and my thoughts louder than they had any right to be, it just felt like a building full of books that weren't doing their job.I was reorganising the romance section. Again. The third time this week.Maya had called it a coping mechanism. I called it productivity. We were both right.I pulled a book from the wrong shelf, shoved it where it belonged and moved on to the next one. There was something satisfying about putting things in their correct place when everything else felt like it was slightly off-centre. Like the universe was tilted two degrees and nobody else could feel it but me.The thing was, Enzo and I were fine. We'd talked, we'd argued, he'd listened, I'd cried, we'd made promises. Fine.But fine and settled were two different things and my body hadn't gotten that memo yet. Every time I thought about him, something uncomfortable settled in my stomac

I woke up before him.That was new.Enzo had always been an early riser, up before the sun with coffee already brewing and emails already answered before I'd even opened my eyes. It used to annoy me. Back then, I'd reach across the bed and find it empty and feel the absence like something deliberately placed there to remind me I wasn't his priority.But this morning, his arm was still around me. Heavy and warm and completely real.I lay still for a moment, just existing in the unfamiliar comfort of it, listening to his breathing, slow and even against my hair. I tilted my head carefully to look at him.He was deeply asleep, face relaxed in a way I almost never got to see when he was awake. One arm thrown across me, lips parted, looking nothing like a billionaire and everything like the boy I married years ago.My chest did that weird stuff again.I'd spent so long being angry at this face. Arguing with it, avoiding it. And now here it was, completely defenceless in the early morning

"Come to Paris with me."He said it on a Tuesday morning, completely casually, like he was asking me to pass the salt. We were at his kitchen island, me with my coffee, him scrolling through his phone with the focused expression he got when work was trying to consume him before 9AM.I looked up. "I'm sorry?""Paris." He set his phone down. "I have business there next week. Come with me."I stared at him. "Enzo, I have a job.""You have leave you've never taken.""That's not the point.""When's the last time you left Maplewood for more than a concert in New York?"I opened my mouth. Closed it.He raised an eyebrow, waiting with the patience of a man who already knew he'd won the argument and was just giving me time to catch up."That's not fair," I said."It's completely fair." He leaned across the island. "Come with me. Four days. I have two meetings and the rest of the time is ours. I want to show you things. I want to watch you fall in love with a city the way you fall in love with