Ryan's POV
The conference room was unusually quiet—just the low hum of the air conditioning and the ticking of the chrome wall clock. I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled under my chin, eyes locked on the cityscape beyond the glass. New York had never felt so suffocating.
Ezra sat across from me, flipping through documents with the usual ease of someone born into privilege but sharpened by grit. My cousin had always been the one person who could handle my silences, and today was no different.
"So…" he started, voice low. "The girl who hit your car… You married her?"
I didn't answer. The silence stretched.
Ezra chuckled. "That means yes."
"It's none of your business," I said, cold but not biting. Just detached.
He raised a brow. "Funny, considering I found out through internal logs when you signed off on a private marriage file through your legal team—under NDA."
Of course he did. Ezra had access to more Saint family assets than anyone outside of me or my grandfather.
"I don't have time for your lectures," I said, rising.
"You know I don't care who you marry, Ryan. But this—" he tilted his head—"contract marriages? That's more Grandpa Desmond's play than yours."
I didn't flinch, but he wasn't wrong.
I didn't marry Mia out of love. She damaged the Obsidian Seraph and conveniently collided with a problem I needed solving: pressure from Desmond to settle down. It was business. Clean. Simple.
Until it wasn't.
Because now, I couldn't stop thinking about her. The way she filled the penthouse with quiet warmth. The way Eric looked at her. The way her eyes flashed when she was angry—like last night, when she caught me almost kissing her again.
And I had kissed her. Almost completely.
Almost didn't count.
"You're falling for her," Ezra said, casually sipping from his espresso.
I shot him a look sharp enough to slice through steel. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
He smirked. "Sure I don't."
Mia's POV
I sat on the edge of the penthouse balcony, knees hugged to my chest, staring at the skyline. Everything looked so peaceful from up here, like I wasn't tangled in a marriage I didn't understand.
A marriage no one could know about.
Lia and Reo were back in the city. Eric was staying with them for now, which meant I had space to breathe—but it felt lonelier than I expected. Especially after… that night.
That almost-night.
We didn't do anything, but I'd felt it. The pull. The hunger.
And when I'd pulled away, Ryan hadn't stopped me. He'd only cursed under his breath, stormed off, and hadn't said a word to me since.
Was it better that way? Probably.
I reminded myself—this was a contract. Nothing more. He didn't love me. He wasn't capable of love. He said so himself.
And yet…
I closed my eyes, trying not to remember the way his gaze lingered, the way his voice softened when he thought I wasn't listening. There was something shifting in him.
In me, too.
But I couldn't let it happen.
Because people like Ryan Saint didn't belong in my world—and I didn't belong in his.