Amara's POV
The meeting dissolved with a single scrape of his chair.
"I have to get to the office," Trey said, his voice smooth and unreadable as polished marble. "We'll continue this tomorrow."
He rose, buttoning his jacket with practiced precision. Then he was gone, his long strides echoing down the hall until the door clicked shut.
Silence stretched in his wake. Tessa pretended to sip her tea, but I could feel her glancing at me over the rim of the mug. The chandelier above hummed faintly, casting soft gold over the seating charts and the roses I had chosen for the ceremony. Everything looked perfect, and I had never felt more foolish.
I pressed my palms flat against the folder. God, why had I asked about the bride? Usually I coordinate directly with the bride. The words still rang in my ears like a fire alarm. I had practically invited him to parade Pauline in front of me. And he had.
I had kept my face perfectly still. No tremor. No blush. But now, with him gone, my stomach twisted so hard I thought I might be sick. I wanted to rewind time and swallow the question whole. What had possessed me? Professional curiosity? Pride? Some masochistic streak that wanted to test whether I could hear about his bride without flinching?
Tessa set her mug down with a soft clink, her eyes narrowing at me with that knowing older sister look. "You okay?" she murmured.
I exhaled through my teeth. "Fine."
"You did not look fine. In fact, you looked one breath away from throwing something at him."
I snapped the folder shut and pushed away from the table, needing to move before the frustration in my chest erupted into something worse. "I do not even know why I asked about her. It is none of my business."
Tessa leaned back in her chair, folding her arms with a slow smile. "You are the wedding coordinator, Amara. Her business is literally your business."
I huffed out a humorless laugh. "I hate him. I hate the way he talks. Like every sentence is a warning meant for me. Like he wants me to react just so he can see what I do."
"And you tried not to," Tessa said, smirking as if she knew exactly how difficult that was.
"I wanted to," I whispered. "God, I wanted to." My fingers curled into my palm, remembering the fire in his eyes. "But I promised myself. Never again."
Tessa's smirk only deepened. She tapped the mug, eyes glittering with mischief. "It is funny though."
My head jerked toward her. "What is funny?"
"That my brother walks into a room and you still forget how to breathe for a second," she said matter of factly.
Heat crawled up my neck. "That is absolutely not true."
"Really?" Tessa tilted her head, amused. "Because from where I was sitting, you stared at him like he punched a hole in the universe and you found yourself on the wrong side of it."
I threw her a glare. "I reacted like any professional would react when the groom decides to taunt them."
She gave me a look that said she did not believe me for a heartbeat. "Sure. Professional. That is why you nearly crushed your pen in half."
I crossed my arms stubbornly. "He does not affect me anymore."
Tessa pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. "Really? The guy you spent years pining over is engaged, and you feel absolutely nothing. Not a spark. Not a single angry heartbeat."
"Nothing," I insisted too quickly.
Tessa laughed softly. "You do realize I can hear your heart from here, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "You are being ridiculous."
"And you are being a bad liar," she countered.
I sank into my chair again, rubbing my forehead. "It does not matter. He made his choice. He chose someone else. So whatever I feel or do not feel is irrelevant."
Tessa's teasing faded into gentleness. "Irrelevant does not mean painless."
I swallowed hard, blinking the sting from my eyes.
"I am fine," I said again, quieter this time.
Tessa reached over and squeezed my hand. "Fine does not mean healed either."
I crossed to the window, shoving my hands into my skirt pockets. The courtyard below shimmered in crisp morning light, every marble tile gleaming. The sky was flawless today, a bright blue canvas stretched above the mansion.
I hated how clear and warm it was now, when yesterday's rain had soaked me to the bone as I arrived. Even the weather seemed to be mocking me, perfect today after drenching me at my lowest.
And now the word honeymoon kept looping in my head like a damn playlist I could not switch off.
Trey had emphasized the word honeymoon over and over, as if trying to slap me with it, like a verbal punishment. As if he had not already stabbed me earlier with his warning never to do again what I had done ten years ago.
I had wanted to throw something at him this morning too, but I was not ten anymore.
And yet, as I stood by the window, I could not help remembering another morning in this very garden, back when I was ten, small enough to dart between the hedges without being noticed, still carrying my sketchbook like a shield.
Trey had been twenty then, home from university for the summer, already taller, broader, and living in a world far above mine. He had been sitting in the gazebo with a visitor, some elegant girl in a sundress, her laugh like a bell. They were leaning close, whispering, her hand brushing his arm. I had frozen in the shade of the boxwoods, the sight of them stinging me in a way I did not yet understand.
Before I could stop myself, I had scooped up the first thing I saw, a fat little frog resting by the fountain, and hurled it straight toward their feet. The girl had screamed, leaping back, her sundress catching on the railing. Trey had jolted upright too, startled, his gaze sweeping the hedges.
I had clapped both hands over my mouth to smother the laugh, but it had spilled out anyway. Heart hammering, I had bolted before they could see me.
It was only later, near the staff entrance, that Trey had found me.
"A frog, Amara?" he had said, his voice low but his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile. "Really?"
I had stared at the ground, toes digging into the gravel, mumbling something about garden maintenance. He had shaken his head and walked off, but even then, even at twenty, he had had the power to make me feel small and electric all at once. And even at ten, I had been reckless enough to throw a frog at him.
I blinked the memory away, gripping the window sill until my knuckles went white. I was not that girl anymore. No more frogs. No more secret crushes. Just a woman doing her job.
Somewhere beyond that courtyard, Trey Alvarez was climbing into his car, heading for his empire, unaware that my heart was beating so hard it felt like punishment.
I stared at my own reflection in the windowpane. Charcoal blouse. Neat bun. Spine straight. No girl. No maid's daughter. A woman. A professional. I repeated it silently like a prayer.
"You know what?" I said finally. "I am done letting him live rent free in my head. I will finish this job, do it flawlessly, and then disappear."
Tessa came up behind me, her voice soft but teasing. "Disappear? Not with that spark you two were throwing at each other."
I shook my head hard. "No. He is marrying Pauline. He can have his perfect legacy, his perfect honeymoon. I do not care."
I closed my eyes and inhaled, steadying myself. "Come on," I said, turning from the window. "We have got work to do."
Tessa followed, still watching me with that mix of amusement and concern. "You are a machine, Amara Castillo."
"No," I said under my breath. "I am just trying to survive."
Outside, the sun continued to blaze over the immaculate courtyard, drying away all traces of yesterday's rain. Inside, I stacked the folders, lined up the pens, and built my armor brick by brick.
Tomorrow, another meeting. Another round of silent breakfasts, staged appearances, simmering tension. Another day to prove to Trey Alvarez that the girl who once trembled under the chandeliers was gone.
And this time, I swore, nothing he said, not his bride, not his honeymoon, would break me.
I spent the rest of the afternoon locked in a blur of calls and checklists. My phone buzzed nonstop, staff updates, supplier confirmations, last minute substitutions. By the time I hung up with the final florist, my throat was dry and my head felt like it was full of bees.
Then Tessa's name flashed across my screen.
"He called," she said the moment I answered. "Dinner. Exclusive restaurant. Seven o'clock sharp. Be there."
I blinked at the clock on my laptop. One hour and a handful of minutes, and that was if the city did not choke with rush hour traffic.
My voice came out tight. "Thanks, Tessa."
I ended the call, already on my feet. Shoes off, shoes on. Black dress. A swipe of lipstick I barely recognized as mine. I caught my reflection in the mirror as I zipped my bag, pulse fluttering at my throat.
By the time I slid into my car, my hands were trembling. I gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline, eyes darting between the clock and the sea of brake lights ahead. The city stretched before me like a glittering obstacle course. The longer I sat in traffic, the more I could feel the seconds bleeding away. My palms grew damp. My chest tightened.
"Breathe," I whispered to myself. "Just breathe."
But it did not stop the tremor in my wrists as I maneuvered between lanes, or the way my heart kicked when the restaurant finally appeared in the distance like a mirage. Five minutes to spare. Five minutes to park, to run, to pray I still looked like I belonged in a place where the valets wore white gloves.
I bolted inside, my heels skimming marble, pulse roaring in my ears. The maître d's greeting blurred past me as I scanned the tables. Dark wood, low lighting, crystal glinting under chandeliers.
And there he was.
Trey, immaculate as ever in a dark jacket, looking up just as I arrived. For one dizzying second my relief almost felt like gratitude, until I saw the woman seated beside him.
Beautiful. Stunning. Pauline.
Her eyes swept me from head to toe, slow and measuring, as if I were a cocktail dress on a clearance rack. Her mouth curved, not a smile, but something colder.
I caught my breath, the edges of the room tilting. After everything, the phone calls, the sprint, the traffic, this was what waited for me at the table. Trey, perfect in his composure. And Pauline, radiant and lethal, the very picture of the future I had no part in.
I straightened my shoulders, forcing a polite smile, and stepped forward.
"Next time, Amara, you had better leave extra time," Trey said, his tone cutting through the low murmur of the restaurant like a blade. Not a greeting. Not even a glance of acknowledgment. Just that cool reprimand. "As I have told you before, time is precious."
The sting of his words landed before I even sat down. My pulse was still pounding from the sprint across the lobby, but before I could speak, Tessa's voice sliced in, clear and steady.
"That is on me," Tessa said, sliding smoothly into the line of fire. "I forgot to call her until the last minute. She only had an hour to fight through rush hour traffic. Do not put this on her, Trey."
A flicker of irritation, then something softer crossed his face as his eyes flicked from his sister to me. For half a heartbeat, he almost looked like he might apologize. Almost. Then his expression reset, smooth and unreadable.
Instead, he turned toward the woman beside him with a warmth so sudden, so deliberate, it felt like a performance.
"Pauline," he said, his voice dropping into that charming register I had once been weak for. "This is Amara Castillo, the coordinator making everything possible for us. Amara, this is Pauline, my fiancée."
He lingered on the word fiancée with an extra sweetness, almost a caress, as if sugar coating it just for my benefit. His hand brushed Pauline's shoulder in a slow, proprietary gesture. Pauline gave me a once over, smile cool and eyes assessing from head to toe.
My stomach flipped. The saccharine tone, the careful touch, it was too much. Too perfect. Too staged. I had to bite back the instinct to roll my eyes, the urge to gag at how sugary his voice sounded.
"Nice to meet you," Pauline said finally, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
I forced a polite smile in return, my professional mask snapping back into place like armor.