Chapter Two
Sarah
The phone was buzzing violently against the marble countertop. Sarah, balancing a cup of coffee and a stack of material samples, almost let it go to voicemail. Then she saw the caller ID.
Lily.
Sarah dropped the fabric swatches and snatched the phone.
Lily had been one of her closest friends since college, but for the last three years, she had been living in London, working as an art director for a major publishing house.
Between the time zones and Sarah’s marital implosion, their calls had become tragically infrequent.
"Tell me you're in the same time zone," Sarah answered, grinning.
"I am currently sitting in the middle of my living room, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes," Lily's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding exhausted but desperate. "And I need to see you. Today. Tonight. Whenever. Just tell me you have time for me."
It was Friday, the eve of the architecture gala. Her day was supposed to be dedicated to wrapping up a client presentation and dealing with a mild, manageable amount of anxiety. She still hadn't even bought a dress yet, dreading the idea of navigating the high-end boutiques alone.
"I can clear my afternoon," Sarah said, making a split-second decision. "In fact, you’re doing me a favor. Tomorrow night is the architecture gala, and I am completely dress-less. Meet me downtown in an hour?"
"You're a lifesaver. See you in an hour," Lily said, her voice sounding a fraction too tight, a fraction too relieved.
***
An hour later, Sarah was standing outside the glass doors of Lennox, a luxury boutique, when a cab pulled up. Lily stepped out, wearing a ribbed knit midi dress in alabaster white and dark sunglasses.
"Lily!" Sarah called out.
Lily ripped the sunglasses off and practically ran across the pavement.
They collided in a bone-crushing hug right there on the sidewalk.
Sarah squeezed her tight, burying her face in her friend's shoulder, overwhelmed by the sudden comfort of a familiar presence.
When they finally pulled back, Sarah kept her hands on Lily's arms, looking her up and down.
"Look at you," Sarah beamed. "London looks good on you. But you look exhausted."
"Jet lag," Lily deflected with a wave of her hand, looping her arm through Sarah's. "Now, let's go find you a dress that will make your ex-husband choke if he ever sees a picture of it."
They navigated the plush, carpeted aisles of the boutique, and at first, it was just like old times. They fell back into their familiar rhythm, armed with inside jokes about the neon-pink bridesmaid dresses they had been forced to wear at a mutual friend's wedding five years ago.
But as Sarah emerged from the dressing room for the third time, wearing a sequined gown that looked like a disco ball, she noticed Lily staring blankly at a rack of silk scarves. Her shoulders were rigid, and the vibrant, cosmopolitan energy she usually carried was completely dimmed.
Sarah finished changing into her own clothes and approached her, resting a hand gently on her arm. "Hey, what’s wrong? You’ve gone all tense… and you look so sad all of a sudden."
Lily looked down, her lower lip trembling. The polished art director vanished, replaced by a heartbroken woman.
"Ethan and I broke up," Lily whispered, a tear spilling over her lashes. "He... he cheated on me."
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. The familiar, sickening phantom pain of betrayal flared in her chest. "Oh, Lily. I am so, so sorry."
"It gets worse," Lily let out a wet, bitter laugh. "It was with Gemma. His best friend. The woman we used to have Sunday roasts with. The woman who helped me pick out curtains for our flat and became a close friend to me, too."
Lily wiped a stray tear angrily. "I don't even know how long they had been sleeping together behind my back. I went to surprise him at his office for lunch, walked in, and... well. I caught them right there on his desk."
Sarah pulled her into a fierce hug right there in the middle of the boutique. She knew that specific brand of agony—the double betrayal. The realization that the lie wasn't just in your bed, but hiding behind the smiles of the people you trusted.
"I came back because everything in that city reminded me of the lie," Lily sniffled against Sarah's shoulder. "I loved England. I really did. But I couldn't walk down the street without wondering who else knew. I just had to run."
"You did the right thing," Sarah said fiercely, pulling back to wipe a tear from Lily's cheek. "You protect your peace first. Whatever you need, I'm here. I know exactly how that floor feels when it drops out from under you."
Lily offered a weak, grateful smile, visibly trying to pull herself together.
She took a deep breath, waving her hands in front of her face to dry her eyes.
"Okay, enough about my tragic British romance.
I am not ruining your weekend. You were supposed to be trying on dresses.
And by the way, who is the lucky escort tomorrow night? You mentioned a plus-one on the phone."
Sarah couldn't help it; a small, involuntary smile broke through.
She led Lily over to a velvet sofa in the corner of the store, and for the next twenty minutes, she poured everything out.
She talked about the gallery, the farmer's market, the pizza dough, and the solid, unshakeable way Julian looked at her.
"He sounds... incredible," Lily said, her eyes softening. "He sounds safe."
"He is," Sarah agreed softly. She stood up, feeling a renewed surge of energy. "Now, help me find a dress that will make him glad he agreed to come."
***
The following night at 6:30 PM, Sarah stood in front of her hallway mirror, her stomach doing nervous flip-flops.
The dress Lily had helped her choose was a masterpiece of restraint and elegance.
It was midnight blue silk, falling to the floor in a heavy, liquid sweep.
It was entirely modest—a high bateau neckline, long fitted sleeves, and a closed back.
It didn't rely on plunging cuts or sheer panels; it relied entirely on the flawless tailoring that hugged every curve of her body.
She had pulled her hair into a sleek, classic chignon and wore a bold, deep crimson lipstick.
When the doorbell rang, Sarah smoothed her hands down the silk, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Julian stood on the porch, wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. He had one hand in his pocket, a relaxed smile on his face, but the moment the door swung open and his eyes landed on her, he froze entirely.
The easy smile vanished. His hazel eyes darkened, sweeping over her from the sleek crown of her hair to the hem of the blue silk, before snapping back up to her face. He looked genuinely stunned, as if the breath had been physically knocked out of him.
"Julian?" Sarah asked, a sudden flush of heat rising in her cheeks.
"Sarah," he breathed, his voice thick and reverent. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him without ever looking away from her. "You are... I don't even have the vocabulary for this. You look absolutely stunning. I'm almost afraid to touch you, you look like a work of art."
Sarah blushed deeply, looking down at her shoes for a second before meeting his eyes again. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."
Julian closed the distance between them, stopping mere inches away. The scent of his cedar and bergamot cologne wrapped around her. His gaze dropped to her mouth.
"I am dying to kiss you right now," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "But I don't want to ruin your lipstick."
Sarah laughed softly, looking up through her lashes. "It's a matte finish. It's completely transfer-proof."
Julian’s eyes flared with a sudden, intense heat. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
He didn't need another invitation. Julian's hands came up to frame her face, his thumbs resting just beneath her jaw as he pulled her to him.
The kiss was immediate, intense, and completely consuming.
He angled her head, his mouth slanting over hers with a desperate, heavy pressure that made Sarah's knees weak.
She let out a soft gasp against his lips, and he took advantage of it, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting her, claiming her with a rhythm that was entirely overwhelming.
Sarah’s hands flew to the lapels of his tuxedo, gripping the fine fabric to keep herself anchored as the kiss deepened.
He tasted like mint and anticipation. His hands slid down her back, pressing her flush against his chest, making her hyper-aware of his solid strength beneath the formal wear.
It was a kiss that promised so much more than a polite evening out; it was a fire being stoked.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily. Sarah’s eyes were wide, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Julian rested his forehead against hers, a slow, triumphant smile curving his lips as he noted the completely intact crimson color on her mouth.
"Good to know," he whispered, his thumb brushing over her cheek.
He offered her his arm, and she took it, floating on a cloud of adrenaline as they walked out the front door.
Parked at the curb was a sleek, black limousine. A driver in a dark suit was standing by the open rear door, waiting for them.
Sarah stopped on the walkway, her eyes widening. "Julian... a limo? You really didn't need to go to all this trouble."
Julian looked down at her. He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Sarah, there is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for you. Tonight is your night. I want it to be perfect."
***
The ballroom of the downtown hotel was a sea of crystal chandeliers, clinking champagne glasses, and the elite of the city's architectural and developmental world.
Sarah walked into the mingling reception with her arm looped securely through Julian's. She felt a protective bubble around her. For the first time in her life, she wasn't shrinking into the background to let Harrison network. She was walking tall.
But almost immediately, Sarah noticed something strange.
People weren't just looking at her; they were looking at Julian. And they were approaching with an eagerness that went beyond casual politeness.
"Julian! Good to see you, man," a prominent real estate developer said, clapping Julian on the shoulder. "Are we still on for the high-rise consultation next week?"
"Absolutely, Tom," Julian replied smoothly.
A few minutes later, the head of a construction firm walked over, beaming. "Julian, I was hoping you'd be here. My board wants to talk about expanding our contract with your team. You've built quite the empire over there."
Sarah stood quietly, her brow furrowing. Empire? When the man walked away, Sarah leaned in close to Julian. "Empire? I thought you were a structural engineer. You work for Keystone Structural, right?"
Julian looked at her, blinking in mild surprise. "Oh. I... I didn't mention it? I own Keystone Structural, Sarah. I'm the CEO. I started it about twelve years ago."
Sarah stared at him. Her brain rapidly calculated the scale of Keystone—it was one of the largest, most lucrative engineering firms in the Midwest.
"You own it," she repeated, her voice sounding a little distant.
"I do," he said, suddenly looking a bit concerned by her reaction. "Does that matter?"
Sarah felt a sudden, icy drop in her stomach.
The imposter syndrome hit her like a freight train.
Julian wasn't just a successful engineer; he was a millionaire.
He was a titan in their industry. And she was.
.. Sarah. A junior partner with a messy divorce and a house she was just barely keeping together.
The disparity in their worlds suddenly felt massive, yawning open beneath her feet.
"No, it doesn't matter," Sarah lied, pasting on a smile and reaching for a champagne flute from a passing tray. "Just surprised."
She took a long sip of the champagne, trying to quiet the loud, insecure voice in her head. She turned to look at the crowd, desperate for a distraction.
"Sarah!"
The booming voice cut through the chatter. Sarah turned, immediately recognizing the voice of Ryan, the senior partner at her architecture firm and her direct boss.
She put on her best professional smile, turning to greet him. "Ryan, it's so wonderful to see you—"
The words died in her throat. The smile shattered on her face.
Ryan, a wealthy, powerful man in his late forties, was walking toward her in his tailored tuxedo. But he wasn't alone.
Standing next to him, wearing a blindingly expensive diamond necklace and a designer gown that flawlessly hugged her slender figure, was a woman whose arm was intertwined intimately with Ryan's.
Sarah’s blood ran completely cold. The ballroom seemed to spin.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't comprehend what she was looking at.
How did they know each other? Why were they here together, arm in arm?
A suffocating wave of panic rose in her chest as her brain scrambled to make sense of the impossible nightmare standing right in front of her. This couldn't be happening.
The woman stopped a few feet away, her eyes locking onto Sarah's shocked, pale face. A slow, venomous, and entirely victorious smile spread across her lips.
"Aren't you going to greet me, little sister?" Emily said.