Chapter 35
MYA
My mind is still spinning from what Worth just told me. His ex-wife showed up at his house, and I can tell he’s already blaming himself for not being there, for not protecting Brianna the way he thinks he should’ve. The guilt was written all over his face.
And now we’re packing up to leave Paris barely a few hours after saying I do.
I feel like I’m running on fumes. My legs are shaky, breath uneven, skin hot.
If those calls hadn’t come through when they did, I would’ve let Worth do whatever he wanted to me, no hesitation; he had me completely entranced.
His voice, his hands, the way he said my name—it was like my body forgot everything but him.
Now that the spell is broken, reality slams back twice as hard. It was a bad idea. A really bad idea.
I might be reckless enough to let Worth kiss me, to lose myself when his mouth is on me, but anything more than that is asking for trouble I can’t come back from.
I shove my phone into my pocket and hurry out of the bedroom. The hallway is dim and quiet until I spot movement a few doors down.
Tiana is tiptoeing out of Griffin’s room like a cat burglar, hair tousled, eyes wide. She freezes the moment she sees me.
“Uh…” I blink, stopping mid-step. “Hello?”
Tiana awkwardly laughs. “I was just… uh… checking to see if Sylas was okay; I overheard Griffin talking to him on the phone.”
Her tone is too chipper and she looks way too guilty.
I narrow my eyes. “How did you even know he was on the phone?”
Tiana hesitates, eyes darting to anywhere but me.
“You would’ve had to be standing at his door to hear that,” I add slowly. And then it clicks. “Were you eavesdropping?”
She exhales, caught, looking relieved. “Fine, you got me.”
I cross my arms, fighting a grin.
“I went to get some water and heard a noise coming from his room, so I may or may not have put my ear to the door.”
A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. “You may or may not have?”
She glares. “Don’t start. My phone slipped out of my hand, and he heard it and opened the door so...”
I can’t help the chuckle that slips out.
“Whatever you say, TJ,” I say, brushing past her toward Griffin’s door. “Go pack. We’re leaving in less than an hour.”
“What? Why?”
“Worth’s ex showed up at his house. Brianna’s fine, but we’re heading back home now.”
I knock on Griffin’s door. “Rise and shine, Mr. Hayes. Family emergency. Pack your things.”
We arrive at the private hangar in record time. No one says much. All you can hear are the sounds of rolling luggage, murmured instructions from the staff, and Worth’s clipped responses.
He didn’t look at me once on the drive there. Didn’t speak. He just stared down at his phone, scrolling, checking, refreshing, as if sheer willpower could keep Brianna safe through a screen. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, like he was ready to spring into action but had nowhere to go.
By the time we board the jet, the weight of it all sits thick in the air. Griffin and Tiana take seats across from us, speaking quietly. I settle beside Worth, who’s still silent, somewhere far away inside his head.
When the plane begins to taxi down the runway and my heartrate picks up, he reaches for me. His hand finds mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, like he’s done it a thousand times before.
My heart leaps, but this time, it’s not from the plane.
Even now, while he’s fighting some invisible war behind those stormy eyes, he still remembers I hate flying.
And that’s what messes me up the most.
The attraction is undeniable—has been since the start—but it’s moments like this that make everything harder to compartmentalize. Because for every cold stare, every clipped word, there’s this version of him who’s gentle, thoughtful, and protective in ways he probably doesn’t even realize.
It’s as if he can’t decide which side of himself he wants to be when he’s around me: the guarded CEO who keeps the world at arm’s length, or the man whose touch already feels like coming home.
I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder while wrestling an armful of clothes into a suitcase that’s embarrassingly too small for my life.
“Mom,” I say for the third time. “Please breathe.”
There’s a beat of silence on the line. In the background, I can hear the distant hush of waves and the faint cry of gulls—sounds that tell me she’s probably standing on the balcony of their retirement rental in Florida, the ocean air doing absolutely nothing to calm her down.
“I am breathing!” my mother replies, except she absolutely is not. “I’m just… processing. Mya, you got married. In Paris. Without telling us. That’s not like you. You told us you were seeing your boss a few weeks ago. Are you—are you okay?”
My stomach twists out of guilt for blindsiding her like this.
“I’m okay,” I say softly. “I promise.”
There’s a shuffle and then a deeper voice joins in. “Mya?”
“Hi, Devon,” I exhale, dropping a handful of folded shirts into the open box on my coffee table.
“Did he pressure you?” he asks immediately. “Was this forced? Was there a prenup? Your mother is pacing a hole in the carpet and I—”
“I wasn’t coerced,” I cut in gently. “No one forced me. Nothing bad happened. Yes, we have a prenup. No, I’m not in danger or being manipulated or secretly blinking SOS through the phone.”
My mom lets out a strangled half-laugh that still sounds suspiciously like panic. “Well, excuse us for being alarmed. Our daughter disappeared to Paris with her billionaire boss and came back with a husband. That’s not exactly a normal life progression, sweetheart.”
I sit back on my heels and glance around my apartment.
“Mom, I’m okay.”
“Why didn’t you tell us it was this serious?” she demands, gentler now. “We didn’t even get to know him, be mad about him properly, interrogate him at the dinner table, threaten him like normal parents.”
A puff of laughter slips out of me. “Trust me, Worth would probably survive the interrogation.”
Devon clears his throat. “Still wouldn’t mind having my turn.”
I tape a box shut. “You’ll get it. I promise.”
There’s another pause, as if they’re both trying to read between the lines.
Mom’s voice softens. “Are you happy?”
I look at the suitcase.
“Yes,” I admit. “It’s… complicated. But I don’t regret it.”
My step-father exhales into the phone. “Okay. That’s something we can live with.”
I push myself to my feet and carry the suitcase toward the door, then stop and rest my hand against the frame. My throat tightens unexpectedly.
“You’re moving today?” Mom asks.
“Yeah. I’m packing now.” I glance around again.
“So,” Devon says, “what’s happening with your apartment?”
“I’m keeping it.”
Both of them say at once, “Why?”
I laugh, because I knew this was coming. “It just makes sense. For now. I worked hard for it, so I’m not ready to let it go.”
“But you’re married,” Mom says, confusion threading with concern. “You have a home with your husband. Why would you need this place?”
“It’s… insurance,” I say instead. “A safety net. Just something that still belongs entirely to me.”
Devon speaks gently. “Okay, that’s reason enough.”
My parents are quiet for a moment.
Then, Devon adds, “And Brianna? You mentioned his little girl.”
A smile rises immediately. “She’s everything. Smart. Funny. She already has me wrapped around her little finger.”
Mom lets out a happy sigh. “You sound fond of her.”
“I am.”
“We trust you, MJ. We just love you and want to make sure you’re not making a mistake.”
My throat tightens. “I know,” I whisper. “I love you too.”
When I finally hang up, the apartment feels impossibly quiet.
One chapter closing.
Another one opening right beneath my feet.