Not Over Her

Adrian

I stared at her retreating back as she shut the door behind her.

“Fuck!” I kicked the empty can next to my foot. The day was already ruined.

I had been the one who specifically asked Martha to book her as the event planner for the party. I wanted to see her again, to prove to her—and maybe to myself—that I’d moved on.

But seeing her again, looking just as beautiful as she had five years ago, with her blue eyes still as mesmerizing and her lips still as tempting… it hit me like a brick. I hadn’t moved on. Not even close.

It took every ounce of self-control not to push her against the wall and kiss her senseless. But I couldn’t. Not after what she had done. Not after what I’d seen with my own eyes.

And now Nova had bailed on me, knowing full well her dad’s company was on the line.

I had helped Xavier a few years ago, never planning to call in the favor. But Aaron, God help him, had twisted my hand.

Aaron, with his perfect fiancée and his annoying insistence that all of us needed to settle down if we wanted to climb higher in the company. It wasn’t enough to be good at our jobs—no, he wanted us to find “balance” and “stability.”

Fucking rubbish. But he was the boss, and I wasn’t about to throw away a shot at the promotion that could get me the exposure I needed in the world of technology.

That was why I had decided to get a wife. No one came to mind, so I’d cashed in Xavier’s favor. His daughter, Nova, as my wife until the promotion came through. It wasn’t romantic, but it was practical.

And they couldn’t even keep their end of the bargain.

My phone rang. I checked the caller ID, expecting Nova, but it wasn’t her. It was my dad. I sent the call to voicemail and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

I left the room, slamming the door behind me, and made my way toward the main hall. I needed to find Astrid.

She could send the guests away. The party was over.

I spotted blonde hair as she stepped out of the bathroom, her blue dress clinging to her figure in a way that stopped me in my tracks.

Astrid.

Her hips swayed under that dress, the same color as her eyes. For a moment, I stood there, just staring.

I had once memorized every inch of that body with my lips, kissed and worshipped every part.

My hands ached to touch her, to hold her again, but she wasn’t mine anymore. She never would be.

Astrid Blythe was a cheating liar.

She stopped to chat with a few guests, her smile perfect and practiced. She was good at this—masking whatever she felt. Once, she’d been an open book to me. Her eyes had always given her away. But now? Now I couldn’t read her.

The thought of what I had to do next churned in my gut, but I forced myself to push it down.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Xavier again.

“Where is she?” I asked. The silence on the other end stretched a moment too long.

“She… she eloped with her boyfriend. Adrian, I swear to God, I didn’t know this was going to happen—”

I ended the call before he could finish.

I needed a wife by the weekend. The thought that came next was one I’d been trying to avoid, but it refused to leave me alone.

I took the backstage route toward the podium, my steps slow, my hands stuffed into my pockets. The place was supposed to be where I introduced my bride—a woman who was still a mystery to everyone here because they hadn’t seen me with anyone.

No one could have guessed who it would be, and that made this plan all the more twistedly perfect.

I stood at the back of the stage, trying to gather my words.

Because, hell, Astrid Blythe was going to be my wife.