Page 21 of The Rancher's Second-Choice Wife

VALERIAN'S ALARM CLOCK woke him up at four in the morning like usual. It was how his day typically began except for one thing: today was his first time waking with a hangover, and he found the experience immensely detestable.

His body felt heavier than it should be, and his mind seemed to be operating under a fog.

He remembered the exact issues he had to resolve with the Risto deal. He also had an unfortunately vivid recollection of his volatile exchange with Camelia before their breakup.

But anything else after that, Valerian was unable to recall.

He checked his phone, and over a hundred messages had landed in his inbox from the last hour alone. Heather's name popped out as he kept scrolling, and Valerian frowned when he saw the timestamp next to her message.

Why the hell would Heather text him at midnight?

Valerian suddenly had a bad feeling as he tapped his screen.

Heather: I just got back. Poppy's back in her apartment. Please don't be a dick about this. Call her as soon as you're up. I'll handle everything at work.

Heather: I'm sorry about the Risto deal.

Reading her message was like getting sucker-punched in his guts. Floodgates that had held his memories back burst open, and Valerian whitened as forgotten fragments of last night started coming together.

Fuck.

An image seared his mind, of his hands cupping a woman's face.

Fuck.

That woman was Poppy, and he had kissed her.

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.

Valerian felt sick as he called the salon where Poppy worked. If she refused to talk to him, then that would mean the kiss had been unwelcomed, and he had forced it on her. She had every right to sue her if so, and he would plead guilty. It was the least he could do, for abusing someone who had been nothing but innocent in her every encounter with him.

But if she didn't refuse to talk to him, and the kiss was something she didn't find unwelcome?

"Bonjour, this is Salon Joyieux. How may I help you?"

A mixture of frustration and relief struck him as his call connected. He was not in the habit of leaving any question unanswered in his mind. But after having only Camelia in his life for so long, being involved with another girl, and especially one like Poppy, was just too new and strange to him, and so Valerian decided to take things one step at a time.

First things first, Valerian thought, and that was to see if Poppy wanted to talk to him.

The person who answered the phone was someone named Giovanni, and the latter's shock was evident when he realized who he was speaking to.

"Hang on—-I mean, p-please give me, umm, I'll, umm..."

Giovanni seemed to give up trying to be coherent because the next thing Valerian heard was the other man frantically yelling for Poppy.

It's Mr. Rossfield, Poppy, hurry, Valerian heard the man whisper frantically after a moment.

An unexpected silence followed, and his jaw clenched as another unwanted possibility crossed his mind.

He had thought he knew Camelia in and out. But instead, his ex had him fooled for eight years. Why would he even consider trusting another woman after that?

Poppy had acted like she was crushing on him all this time, but what if she was also pretending?

"Did you really say 'Mr. Rossfield'?"

The unmistakable sound of Poppy's voice cut into Valerian's thoughts. She had squeaked each word out as well, but instead of finding this amusing, Valerian was stunned to feel his heart pound instead.

What the hell was happening?

---