Page 30 of Miss Understood

All blurring together in one big mess.

11

Jesse

Whoknewtwoheartbreakerstying the knot would cause such a fucking stir?

But it has. In the press, at the office. Everyone wants to know how two people who spend their careers tearing couples apart managed to fall in love themselves.

If they only knew the truth.

But they can’t. The last thing we need in the middle of the firm’s biggest-ever case is the fact that my marriage to Luce is one big show. Our only option is to win the case and figure it out from there.

In the meantime, I’m stuck with the ultimate cockblock, a fake wife. Something that should annoy the crap out of me, if it wasn’t bringing to life conflicting feelings in my chest. Because, as difficult as I thought it would be to let Ice Queen Luce in, I’m starting to see a side of her that doesn’t seem frozen at all.

A side that isn’t intent on avoiding me. A side that laughs when I say something funny. A side that gave my sister a genuine hug when she left to head back to Olympia.

A side that feels dangerous to get familiar with.

It’s fucking with my head, because I know how Luce works. Her sweet is actually calculated. She might be playing nice, but it’s only to secure her reputation at the end of this. I have to remind myself we aren’t an actual couple, no matter how good Luce is at making people—myself included—believe it.

But those damn smiles and laughs are infections. They make me want to uncover what else I’ve been missing.

And that’s the issue.

Ever since waking up next to her in Vegas, all I want to do is get to know my wife. Touch her. Hear her. See her. Feel her.

It’s becoming a real fucking problem.

“Where is she?” I ask Mateo, realizing it’s already almost ten and Luce’s office is still empty.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer to that question,as her husband?” He hangs up his call, grabs a Post-it, and plants it into my hand. “Sick, believe it or not. She called a while ago, but I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off, so I must have forgotten to give this to you.”

“Sick?” I can’t remember the last time Luce has taken a sick day—or a vacation day, for that matter. But somehow she’s sick enough to call out and didn’t even bother to text me?

Our relationship might be fake, but I look like a total idiot for not knowing.

“Yes.” Mateo kicks his legs out and plants his hands behind his head. “Girl sounded scary. I told her she better stay far away from here, or I’m locking her in her office and calling the CDC.”

“Good call,” I say, tucking the Post-it into my pocket. “Did she say what it was?”

Mateo shakes his head. “No, but she wanted me to tell you don’t worry, she’s still working, just from home.”

She wanted Mateo to tell me, as if she’s not capable of reaching out herself. Those walls of hers are brutal.

“She doesn’t need to do that.”

I surprise myself by saying it. I don’t believe in sick days. Just days in which a little less work might get done. But the idea of Luce feeling terrible enough that she can’t make it into the office and still dragging herself through paperwork…it makes me feel guilty that she thinks that’s what I’d expect.

“That’s what I told her, but she doesn’t listen.” Mateo rolls his eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to swing by her house and drop off some soup once I can catch a break. Don’t worry, I’ll leave it on the doorstep and text her it’s there. I might be a friend, but no thank you to the infection.”

“I can take it.” There it is again, words falling out of my mouth before I can stop to think about what I’m saying.

After all, Mateo is my assistant. He should be the one running my errands. But this isn’t just picking up birthday cards for employees or lunch for the office. Luce is mywife. Technically, anyway. I should be the one to bring her things that make her feel better, right?

Mateo sits up in his chair and plants his hands on his knees. “You?”

I cross my arms over my chest, and he laughs.

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