One-night stand with cheating fiancé's uncle

Damari finally caught on to what he’d done and let go of her hand. "Sorry."

"No, it’s okay. I gotta get back to work."

Isla’s cheeks flushed bright pink as she hurried off in her heels. It was the first time she’d ever been that flustered on the job.

Damari rubbed his fingertips together slowly, like he could still feel the soft, silky warmth of Isla’s skin under his touch.

An hour later, he stood up and headed for the conference room.

Ambrose was leaning over the table, voice rough and gravelly. Damari glanced down at him. "You can go. Don’t make that mistake again."

"Damari, why are you so protective of that little assistant of yours? Got your eye on her, don’t you?"

Damari didn’t bother explaining, just tossed off a lazy reply. "She’s taken."

"So what if she’s taken? You convince her hard enough, any relationship can go up in smoke."

Ambrose chugged the last of his coffee and stretched out slow, casual. "Hey, by the way—isn’t it kind of tempting? She’s all prim and proper up here at work. Wonder what she’s like behind closed doors, huh?"

Ambrose just shrugged. "You’re gonna make yourself miserable bottling everything up like this. Skip the overtime tonight, come out with us."

After seeing Ambrose out, Damari wandered down the hall for a cigarette, and glanced through the open doorway of the secretaries’ office.

There she was: Isla standing by the printer, sunlight spilling over her. Her tailored work fit fit her like it was made just for her.

Her tiny waist, those long legs, the soft rise and fall of her chest—enough to make any man’s head turn.

Damari’s mind wandered, unbidden, to the thought of Isla in bed with Vicente. What noises would she make?

He caught himself, realizing Ambrose’s stupid comment had gotten under his skin, and shoved those thoughts right out of his head fast.

In this day and age, Isla and Vicente had been together for years. Of course they weren’t waiting for marriage. That kind of thing didn’t happen anymore.

The tight black dress she’d worn last night just proved it.

They were a couple. Intimacy was normal. That was how it worked.

Damari turned to leave just as Isla glanced toward the door. She didn’t see anyone there, but she couldn’t shake the feeling—like someone had been watching her. Had she just imagined it?

Her phone buzzed with a text just as she pulled the printed documents off the tray. It was a deposit alert.

Her eyes locked on the $200,000. The papers slipped right out of her hands and hit the floor with a loud thud.

Suddenly every pair of eyes in the room was on her. Madison spoke up first. "Everything okay?"

Isla, always so cool and collected, masked her shock in a heartbeat. "Nothing. I’m fine."

She walked back to her desk, still reeling over the unexpected money, when Rayna leaned in, voice bright with curiosity. "How’d it go last night? That dress I picked out for you could charm the pants off an angel."

Isla answered steady as anything. "Not great. We broke up."

Rayna’s face went completely slack with disbelief. "What? You broke up? After all these years? You just walked away like that?"

"I did. He cheated," Isla said, not offering anything else before she headed for the CEO’s office, leaving Rayna stunned in her wake.

Isla knocked on the door. She went in and out of this office a dozen times a day normally, but today this was only the second time—and it felt weird, awkward even.

She pushed the door open and found Damari on a call. She usually avoided interrupting moments like this, scared she’d overhear something confidential.

She set the documents down and was already turning to leave when his hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in place.

Since last night, they’d touched way more than they ever had before. It felt wrong, too much.

Isla didn’t dare daydream about being Mrs. Evans. If she had to label what they had, it was nothing more than a business arrangement.

Even with his phone pressed to his ear, his sharp, focused gaze never left her.

This man was normally glued to his work, barely glanced at anyone else. This sudden shift left her completely off-balance.

Isla’s eyes drifted to the small red birthmark peeking out above the collar of his white dress shirt.

She realized she was staring, and it was rude. She looked away fast.

To Damari, Isla standing there with her head bowed looked just like an obedient kid waiting her turn in line. Cute.

He finally ended the call. "Is there something you wanted to say?"

Isla’s voice was soft, quiet. "Mr. Evans, did you mishear me? Last night I said you only needed to send $30,000. I just got a transfer for $200,000."

He answered like it was no big deal. "Thirty thousand only covers the surgery and the hospital bill. Even if the operation goes well, there’s post-op meds and physical therapy to pay for."

"A hundred thousand is more than enough. I’ll transfer the rest back right away."

"Isla, that $200,000 isn’t for your brother’s treatment."

Her heart stopped for a beat. "Mr. Evans, I don’t understand."

"Let me put it another way. This $200,000 is your monthly allowance—from a husband to his wife. Spend it however you want."

"H-husband…" Isla almost bit her own tongue, she was that shocked.

He emphasized the word slow, like he wanted to make sure she got it. "Yes. Husband. Or partner, spouse—whatever you prefer."

This wasn’t going anything like she’d planned.

Weren’t they only supposed to have a contractual marriage? Right. The contract.

Isla reminded him gentle, quiet. "Mr. Evans, we haven’t signed any agreement yet."

"No need for one. If you have any demands, just tell me. We can work it out."

This whole arrangement was Damari’s idea in the first place. Her only request was money to save her brother’s life. That was it.

Seeing how confused she was, Damari pressed the point. "You can tell me what you expect from me. What days I need to come home, how much I give you each month, how many nights a week we… share a bed."

Isla slammed her palm over his mouth fast, cutting him off. "Mr. Evans, don’t say another word."

He glanced at her flushed cheeks, amused. How could someone who’d dated a man for years still blush just from hearing the words share a bed?

His warm breath fanned her fingers, sending a tiny, tingling jolt up her arm. She yanked her hand away like she’d been burned.

Isla could feel something was off. She’d always thought this was just mutual need—she’d satisfy his grandfather’s last wish, he’d pay for her brother’s surgery. That was all.

Beyond that, they wouldn’t have anything to do with each other. But he was talking like they were actually a real married couple.

She met his gaze, and her ears burned hot. "I don’t need that much money, I…"

He cut her right off. "Do whatever you want with it. Save it, donate it, I don’t care—it’s your freedom to do as you like. Transferring money to you every month is my freedom."

Isla’s brain was still spinning trying to process all this when she asked, "Then what do I have to do for it?"

"I’ll let you know when the time comes."

Isla nodded, already planning to save the money and pay him back every cent once the arrangement ended.

"Tonight I have to go visit my parents. If we were going to see your grandfather, we’ll have to reschedule," she told him seriously, like she was reporting any other work task.

He let go of her wrist. "That’s fine."

"Mr. Evans, I won’t disturb you any longer."

Isla hurried out. Even though he’d let go, the spot on her wrist where his hand had been was still burning—like someone had lit a tiny flame there that spread all the way to her heart.

Glancing at the balance on her bank app, the heavy weight that had been sitting in her chest for months finally lifted.

She didn’t want to go home, but tonight was the regular family dinner, and Mack would be there. She couldn’t wait to tell her brother the good news.

After the surgery, he’d be healthy again. He’d get to start a whole new life.

When Isla knocked and walked into the living room, she found Vicente sitting there, in his crisp business suit. Her face dropped instantly.