All Chapters of Contractually His: Chapter 11 - Chapter 15

Whitfield Textiles’ office hadn’t changed in the week Amara had been gone, but she had, and she felt the difference the moment she walked through the front doors and the receptionist’s eyes dropped, instinctively, to the ring on her left hand. “Mrs. Cross,” Priya said, testing the name like it might not fit, and Amara felt the same hesitation settle into her own chest. She hadn’t decided yet whether to correct people. Legally, professionally, she was still Amara Whitfield that had been one of her conditions, non-negotiable, the same way the separate bedrooms had been. But two weeks of tabloid photos had apparently rewritten what the rest of the world assumed she wanted to be called, whether she’d agreed to it or not. “Whitfield’s fine,” Amara said, gentler than the correction probably needed to be, and watched Priya’s shoulders ease with relief at not having gotten it wrong. Her father’s office had a stack of files waiting on the desk, exactly where she’d left them, and fo

Three weeks into the marriage, Julian informed Amara over breakfast that they’d been invited to the same charity gala where they’d first met an annual event Cross Industries sponsored, which meant attendance wasn’t optional, and which meant, Amara realized with a lurch of something between nerves and anticipation, that she’d be standing in the exact room where this had all started, except this time as his wife instead of a stranger he’d approached with a business proposal. “Same room,” she said. “Same everyone, probably.” “Same everyone,” Julian confirmed, not looking up from his coffee. “Including, unfortunately, Reyes and his wife, who apparently find these events an excellent opportunity to continue evaluating whether our marriage is holding up to scrutiny.” “You make it sound so romantic.” Something flickered at the corner of his mouth the almost smile she’d started, without meaning to, keeping a private count of. “I’ll try to improve the romance of tonight’s evaluati

He moved to the balcony a few minutes later, needing air, and Amara found him there notlong after, still in his suit though he’d loosened his tie, a glass of untouched whiskey restingon the railing beside him. She hadn’t planned on following him out. She’d told herself shewould give him space, the way he’d clearly needed it after everything he’d just told her.Instead she found herself standing in the doorway, watching him stare out at the sameskyline that had been the backdrop to nearly every honest conversation they’d had since thewedding, and something in her simply refused to leave him alone with it.“I thought I told you not to worry about it,” Julian said, without turning around, though therewas no real edge in it.“You did. I’m choosing not to listen.” She stepped out to join him, the night air cooler thanshe expected, and leaned against the railing a careful distance away, close enough to bepresent, far enough to respect whatever boundary he still needed. “For what it’