Elena Navarro sat on the edge of a leather couch in Alexander Whitmore's penthouse, her wedding dress crumpled around her like a reminder of the day's lies. The room was huge—floor-to-ceiling windows showing New York's twinkling lights, sleek furniture that screamed money, a bar stocked with bottles she recognized from her family's old parties. She'd grown up around wealth, back when her dad, Marcus, was a big shot, throwing cash at mansions and yachts. But his bad deals and gambling had burned it all down, leaving Elena to pick up the pieces. Now, at twenty-eight, she was here, married to a billionaire she didn't know, all to save her sister Sofia and the Navarro name. The penthouse was familiar, like her old life, but it felt cold, like she was a guest in her own story.
Xander stood across the room, loosening his tie, his dark hair still perfect even after the long day. He hadn't said much since they'd left the church, just a curt "Make yourself at home" when they'd walked in. His eyes flicked to her now, sharp and unreadable, like he was sizing her up. She wanted to snap at him, tell him this marriage was her dad's fault, not hers, but his silence stopped her. He wasn't mean, just closed off, a puzzle she didn't have the energy to solve.
Her fingers brushed the note in her pocket, the one Julian Whitmore had slipped her at the wedding. Meet me at midnight, by the garden fountain. Don't trust Xander. Julian's voice echoed in her head, low and urgent, his touch still sparking on her skin. She shouldn't go. She was Xander's wife now, even if it was just a deal to fix her family's ruin. But Julian had promised truth, and after years of her dad's lies, truth was all she wanted.
"You okay?" Xander's voice cut through her thoughts. He was closer now, leaning against the bar, a glass in his hand.
Elena blinked, caught off guard. His tone wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold either. "Fine," she said, too quick. "Just… tired."
He nodded, like he didn't believe her but didn't care enough to push. "Your room's down the hall. Second door. We don't share."
Her cheeks heated, though she wasn't sure why. Of course they wouldn't share. This wasn't real. "Good," she said, standing, her dress rustling. "I'll see you tomorrow."
His eyes followed her as she walked away, and for a second, she felt his gaze like a weight, heavy and curious. It threw her off, made her wonder what he was thinking behind that perfect face. But she didn't look back. She had a meeting to keep.
Her room was as fancy as the rest—big bed, silk sheets, a view that could make you forget your problems. She'd had a room like this once, before her dad sold their house to pay his debts. The memory stung, her mom's voice fading with every lost piece of their life. Elena kicked off her shoes, peeled off the dress, and slipped into jeans and a sweater. The clock on the wall said 11:45. Her heart raced. She grabbed a jacket, tucked Julian's note deeper in her pocket, and slipped out.
The penthouse was quiet, Xander's door closed. She tiptoed to the elevator, half-expecting him to catch her. The ride down was quick, and the night air hit her like a shock when she stepped outside. The garden was behind the building, a fancy setup with roses and a stone fountain that glittered under the moon. She'd been to places like this as a kid, sneaking into gardens during her dad's parties, but tonight felt different and dangerous.
Julian was already there, leaning against the fountain, his dark hair catching the light. He looked up as she approached, his smile slow and sharp, like he knew she'd come. Her stomach flipped. He was trouble, the kind of guy her mom used to warn her about back when they had money to lose. But his eyes held her, warm and serious, like he saw the real her, not the bride in a borrowed dress.
"You made it," he said, voice low. He stepped closer, and the air got thick, like a storm was coming.
"I shouldn't be here," Elena said, crossing her arms. "I'm married, Julian. Whatever you think you know, it better be worth it."
"It is." He pulled a small envelope from his jacket, holding it out. "Take a look."
She hesitated, then grabbed it, her fingers brushing his. A spark shot through her, wrong and thrilling. She tore open the envelope, pulling out a photo and a folded paper. The photo showed a document with the Whitmore logo, something about a land deal. The paper had numbers—big ones—and a name she recognized: her dad's.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Why's my dad's name here?"
Julian leaned in, his breath warm. "The marriage wasn't just about saving your family. It's about a deal—a dirty one. That land they're merging over? It's not clean. Your dad's tied to it, and so's Xander. They're hiding something, Elena. Something big."
Her heart pounded. She knew her dad was weak, always chasing money, but this? It felt like a punch. "Xander doesn't even talk to me. Why would he hide this?"
Julian's eyes darkened. "Because he's a Whitmore. Family first, always. But I'm not like them. I walked away for a reason."
She wanted to believe him, but her dad's lies had taught her to trust no one. "Why are you telling me? What's in it for you?"
He looked away, jaw tight. "Maybe I just don't like seeing someone get played. Or maybe I see you, Elena. You're not like them either."
Her breath caught. He was too close, his words too raw. She stepped back, clutching the envelope. "I need to think about this."
"Don't take too long," he said. "And watch your back. My mom, Victoria—she's the one pulling the strings. She doesn't like loose ends."
Elena's skin prickled. She'd seen Victoria at the wedding, all smiles and sharp edges, talking to her dad like they shared a secret. Was this what they were hiding? She turned to go, but Julian grabbed her wrist, gentle but firm. His touch burned, and her heart raced, torn between running and staying.
"Be careful," he said, letting go slowly. "I mean it."
She nodded, unable to speak, and walked away, the envelope heavy in her hand. The garden faded behind her, but Julian's voice, his eyes, stayed with her. She'd been in fancy places before, lived a rich life, but she'd never felt like this, caught between a husband she didn't know and a man she shouldn't want. Her dad's mistakes had taken everything once. She wouldn't let them take her future too.
Back in the penthouse, she slipped inside, her shoes soft on the marble floor. The place was dark, quiet, but as she passed Xander's door, it creaked open. He stood there, shirt unbuttoned, eyes locked on her.
"Where were you?" he asked, voice low, like he already knew.
Elena's heart stopped. The envelope felt like a bomb in her pocket.