The name hits me like a punch to the face. Lucas Martinez? Luke is the CEO of Couture Collective? The biggest fashion company in North and South America? How the hell did I not know this?
I blink, still processing. The air feels like it’s been sucked out of the room for a second, and all I can hear is the rushing sound of blood in my ears.
But there he is. Sitting casually, grinning, as if he’s enjoying every second of my discomfort. He stands up, extending his hand, his eyes never leaving mine.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. O’Brien,” he says, his voice calm and collected, but there’s a twinkle of mischief in his gaze.
I force a smile, slipping into autopilot mode as I shake his hand. Keep it together, Julie. Keep it together.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Martinez,” I reply, my voice just a little too formal. The contact of his hand is warm—familiar. A little too familiar, given the c

~~Luke~~
Today’s not going as well as I planned. Well, on the business side, it is. But on the pleasure aspect, I think I’m screwed.
When Julie sent me the address earlier today, I thought it was just a coincidence. The same restaurant I’m meeting my newest business partner happens to be where I’ll be having lunch with Julie and her husband. I should have seen this coming. It’s just like they say: when something’s too good to be true, it usually is.
I run a hand through my hair, pretending to listen to Ryan’s rambling about his company’s future while my mind is busy dissecting every single choice that led me here. I should have had my private investigator run a more thorough check on Julie. I can’t believe I’d been so careless. This wasn’t just bad luck—this was karma coming for me.
"So, Mr. Martinez—" Ryan says.
“Luke, please,” I cut in, giving him a tight smile. I need to keep things l

The drive to work is a blur.
My mind keeps wandering back to that late-night call with Luke. I hadn’t expected him to answer, let alone cheer me up with his random stories and crazy humor. I can't shake the strange feeling I’ve had since that call. I’m… happy. Genuinely happy. And it's not something I'm used to, especially in the last few months.
I smile as I walk through the glass doors of Paragon Jewels. It’s a place I’ve spent years building my career, climbing to the top—yet today, even the heavy, corporate atmosphere feels lighter.
I make my way across the lobby, past the reception desk. The receptionist, Karen, smiles at me, though her usual greeting seems to be slightly delayed. She’s staring at me as if something’s different.
“Good morning, Mrs. O’Brien,” she says.
“Good morning, Karen,” I reply, smiling back.
I catch the surprise in her eyes. Maybe I don’t usually smile this much. I know I don’t.
“Have a nice day,” I say, giving her one last smile before walking on.
As I make my way to the marketing department, I can feel the stares. People are looking at me strangely, whispering behind their hands as I pass. It’s almost comical. Greetings echo through the hall as employees step aside for me to pass.
“Good morning, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Morning, Mrs. O’Brien.”
It’s always “Mrs. O’Brien.” No one calls me by my first name. I’m the chief marketing officer, and Ryan O’Brien’s wife—titles that have set me apart from everyone else. And for years, I liked it that way.
But today, as I step into the elevator, the usual tension that follows me wherever I go seems to disturb me a little. A group of employees are standing near the elevator doors, waiting, but as I approach, they all step back, clearly intending to let me ride alone.
“Why don’t you all join me?” I say.
They hesitate, looking between one another like they’re unsure if I’m serious. When I don’t back down, they step inside.
I lean back against the elevator wall, still smiling.
The elevator doors open to the marketing floor, and I step out, making my way toward the large meeting hall. It’s where I hold our weekly strategy meetings. As I enter, I see everyone’s already seated, waiting for me so we can begin. The air in the room shifts when they see me. Conversations halt, and I can feel all eyes on me.
“Good morning, everyone,” I greet them cheerfully.
Silence.
It’s as if the entire room is holding its breath, waiting for the punchline. No one’s used to me being in a good mood. Hell, even I’m not used to it. But here we are.
I glance around, noting the side glances being exchanged across the table. People are shuffling papers, fidgeting, avoiding my gaze. Finally, I place my bag down on the table and address the tension. “What’s with the side looks? Can someone tell me what’s going on?”
They exchange nervous glances again, but no one speaks. Finally, Samantha, the vice president of marketing, clears her throat.
“Julie,” she says, “we were wondering if you're okay. The last time we saw you, things were… intense.”
She doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what she’s talking about—the outburst at the quarterly review party. The shouting. The way I’d dragged Ryan out of the room. It was one of my lowest moments, and everyone here saw it.
I give her a small smile, tilting my head. “I see. Well, it’s nice to know you all care so much. But for the record, Ryan and I are still very much in love and happily married. Does that answer your questions?”
There’s an awkward pause as everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” I say, glancing at Silas, the campaign manager, “let’s begin the presentation.”
Silas stands, his shoulders squared, but I can tell he’s a little thrown off by my calmness. He begins talking through the campaign for the new red diamond choker necklace series that’s due to launch in a few months. As he clicks through the slides, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out discreetly under the table and see a message from Ryan. It's the address for the lunch meeting with Luke.
Without thinking, I forward the message to Luke. I expect him to reply later, but his response comes almost immediately: Was expecting your text by noon, not 9 AM.
I smile, tapping out a quick reply: Consider it a head start. He sends back a winking emoji, and I find myself chuckling under my breath. It’s strange how easy the conversation with him feels.
By the time I look up from my phone, Silas has wrapped up his presentation, and the room is silent. All eyes are on me again. Shit. I wasn’t paying attention.
Silas clears his throat. “Mrs. O’Brien? What did you think of the campaign idea?”
I glance at the screen, quickly scanning the last slide. “It’s good, Silas. Really. I think you’ve captured the elegance of the necklace well, but you might want to focus more on the exclusivity aspect. This series needs to feel like it’s something only a select few can own.”
He nods, relieved, and I dismiss the meeting, assigning a few tasks to some of the team members before everyone filters out of the room.
My mind is already elsewhere. The lunch meeting with Luke and Ryan is just a few hours away, and I can’t shake the nerves creeping up on me.
I need to get my shit together.
~~~
At noon, I find myself rushing to the bathroom to check my makeup, something I never do. I add another layer of perfume, undo the top two buttons of my blouse, and smooth down my hair. It’s not like I’m dressing up for Luke, but... okay, maybe I am. Just a little.
The restaurant is only a few minutes from the office, and by the time I arrive, I spot Ryan and Luke through the window. They're together, laughing, chatting like old friends.
I freeze.
What the hell is going on? They weren’t supposed to be this... friendly.
Ryan sees me first, standing up with a warm smile and walking over to give me a peck on the cheek. “Hey, darling,” he says, his voice soft and loving. “Come join us.”
I glance at Luke, who’s watching me closely, his eyes flicking from my face to my undone buttons. I know that look—admiration, surprise. He looks different today, too—sharp, polished in a way I hadn’t expected. The playful rogue I’d met at the club has been replaced by a professional, composed man in suit. And for some reason, it throws me off balance.
Ryan notices the tension between us and clears his throat. “Pardon my manners. Mr. Martinez, meet my wife, Julie.” He smiles, gesturing between us. “And Julie, this is Mr. Lucas Martinez, the CEO of Couture Collective, our newest partner.”
Holy shit.

The name hits me like a punch to the face. Lucas Martinez? Luke is the CEO of Couture Collective? The biggest fashion company in North and South America? How the hell did I not know this?
I blink, still processing. The air feels like it’s been sucked out of the room for a second, and all I can hear is the rushing sound of blood in my ears.
But there he is. Sitting casually, grinning, as if he’s enjoying every second of my discomfort. He stands up, extending his hand, his eyes never leaving mine.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. O’Brien,” he says, his voice calm and collected, but there’s a twinkle of mischief in his gaze.
I force a smile, slipping into autopilot mode as I shake his hand. Keep it together, Julie. Keep it together.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Martinez,” I reply, my voice just a little too formal. The contact of his hand is warm—familiar. A little too familiar, given the circumstances.
Luke doesn’t miss a beat. “Please, call me Luke,” he says. His tone is casual, as if w

Chapter 10