Madrid, Spain.

God might have made men out of dust. But Kaiden Alejandro de Domínguez? He had to be sculpted out of unsorted paperwork, cold coffee dregs, and an ego way too big for this penthouse.

I stood in the middle of his office. My heels nearly sank into the mess of rolled-up blueprints, half-crumpled proposals that should’ve been filed away, and a black tie that was still inexplicably damp.

“Two days, Kai. I was gone for two days in Switzerland, and you’ve already turned into some blind giraffe species that can’t tell the difference between a desk and a trash can.”

I picked up a white shirt ..oh, perfect, it still had the dry-cleaning tag attached, and tossed it onto the ridiculously overpriced leather sofa that didn’t deserve its lazy owner.

The shower was still running. Which meant I had time.

My hand slid across the desk, fingers curling around the mouse. The screen blinked alive, opening like the first page of hell.

A small WhatsApp Desktop notification popped up. One name. Rachel.

And one message that smacked like a stiletto to the face.

‘I miss you. Is your wife home yet?’

My eyes narrowed. My pulse didn’t spike. No, this wasn’t a love story. This was a story about a woman far too sane to get fooled twice.

I clicked the app open. The chat thread unfolded, sprawling and endless. Too much for a man who swore up and down he “didn’t love anyone.” He’d told me that. Again and again.

Yet here he was, apparently romantic enough to send fire emojis and cuddly stickers to Miss Rachel with the capital R.

“I thought you hated texting,” I muttered, scrolling through what might as well have been a trashy romance novel .. minus the quality.

And yes, of course, irony had to punch me in the teeth.

‘You drive me crazy, Rach.’

‘You too. Kiss me all night.’

‘Only if my wife isn’t home.’

My smile didn’t reach my eyes.

I leaned closer, typed slowly, deliberately, my fingers dancing like they were sketching a murder plan onto one of his blueprints.

‘Sorry, he’s still in the shower. But I’ll pass along your horny little love note once he finishes drying his dick.’

Send.

Sit back.

And for the encore, I added a glittery pink middle-finger sticker.

I was about to stand when the bathroom door opened. Steam spilled out first, followed by a body wrapped in nothing but a white towel.

“Drama begins in three, two—” I whispered.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

His voice was heavy, his Spanish accent always sounding like sin wrapped in velvet. Wet black hair dripped onto his broad chest, his eyes .. those eyes that could make normal women fold in one look, locked on mine. Then drifted down to the glowing computer screen.

Silence.

More silence.

I leaned against his desk, crossing my legs, pointing at the monitor with my chin. “Your girlfriend says she misses you. Thought it was rude to leave her hanging.”

Kai didn’t speak. His jawline just tightened like steel. He dragged a hand down his damp face, then let out a sharp click of his tongue. “You went through my messages.”

“Your laptop was open. WhatsApp auto-logged. You’re too smart to be this stupid.”

He moved closer, lazy steps, broad chest bare, towel dragging across the marble floor I had redesigned last year. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I had designed this house. Filled it with my breath. And still, I wasn’t anyone in it.

His gaze sliced into me. “Jealous?”

“No.” I stood. “Disgusted. Big difference.”

“Rachel doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, so you’re screwing a woman who doesn’t matter?” My smile was sugar-coated poison. “Cute. I don’t even sleep with men I cut off at a red light, let alone a husband who collects mistresses like watches.”

His face stayed calm. But I knew he was boiling, just like I was. Only we never spoke like normal people. We fought with words, slapped each other with sentences sharp enough to draw blood.

“You want a divorce, Thalia?”

A laugh escaped me, short and bitter. “Funny. I thought you wanted that since day one. Or was it since you refused to touch me on our wedding night and sent me to the guest room like some underpaid babysitter?”

Something flickered in his blue eyes. Anger. But I was immune.

Kai could look like a fallen angel all he wanted. It didn’t change the truth. I was the woman his grandfather had forced him to marry.

The woman his mother had despised from the start.

The woman he paraded in public but forgot at home.

“If you want a divorce, handle it yourself.” He turned away. “I’m tired.”

“Perfect. Your exhaustion isn’t my problem.”

I grabbed my bag, heading for the door, but not before throwing one last knife. “And tell Rachel this.. if she’s got anything contagious, she should get checked. Because with the number of women you’ve screwed, Kai, I’m pretty sure your dick gets more mileage than my office mouse.”

The automatic door slid open. Close. Shut.

And finally, I could breathe.

XXXX

I couldn’t remember how many glasses of wine I’d had tonight. Enough to make Madrid’s lights look like shooting stars too lazy to land.

And enough to make me laugh for three full minutes when Hayden pretended to be a stripper on top of the bar table.

Me, Claire, Ella, and Hayden. The most functional dysfunctional team God ever threw together. We talked about men, careers, and everything else that didn’t matter.

We laughed. We drank. We pretended we weren’t all falling apart in completely different ways.

By the time I stumbled back into the penthouse, laughter still caught in my throat, I kicked the door open...

“Oi, who’s got… mineral water with love and vengeance in it?”

Too late.

I looked up.

And there he was. Sitting on his favorite white sofa, the one he usually treated like an altar for reading business reports like some fake prophet.

Kai.

Kai, not smiling.

Kai, staring at me like I’d just set fire to his Bible and danced on the ashes.

Shit.

My hand flew to my mouth. I froze at the edge of the carpet, my left heel wobbling dangerously. The black dress I was wearing was far too short for any move requiring dignity.

“Hello.” I leaned against the wall, still clutching my purse like it was a weapon.

He didn’t answer. Just narrowed those sharp blue eyes that could strip me bare without lifting a finger.

And the problem? I was sober enough to feel it.

His gaze slid down slowly. From my face, to my neck, to the cut of my dress that dipped like an open invitation, to the thighs I had absolutely made sure were on display. Then back up again.

“Long night at the club?” His voice was low. Smooth, poisonous.

I arched a brow. “No. We were just plotting to take over the world. But Hayden got distracted grinding on the bartender.”“You’re drunk.”

“I’m alive. That’s way more important.”

His stare didn’t waver. Still stripping me without touching. And somehow, I let him.

I stepped further inside, heels clicking too loudly against the marble.

He stayed quiet.

I kicked off one heel. Tossed it onto the sofa. The other clattered onto the coffee table.

“Wow,” I muttered, spinning toward him, “you’re still sitting there like the king of sin himself.”

“I own this penthouse.”

“Not my soul. Unfortunately.”

Kai exhaled slowly. He leaned back, one hand draped over the sofa’s armrest, the other on his thigh. His eyes hadn’t moved an inch from my body.

I took a step closer. “Stop looking at me like you want to tear me apart, Kai. I’m not steak.”

His gaze dipped to my throat. “You come home dressed like this… in that dress… and you don’t want to be looked at?”

My hand went to my hip. “Oh, so now it’s my outfit’s fault? Should I have worn a Hello Kitty nightgown so my oversexed husband wouldn’t get hungry?”

He stood. His steps toward me were slow, deliberate, each one more threat than movement. Or maybe an invitation. I couldn’t tell which was more dangerous.

When he was close enough, I caught his aftershave. Clean, dark, expensive.

My smile curled, wicked. “What? You want to pray with me?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes locked on mine, deeper, darker.

Then his hand hit my shoulder. One hard shove. Enough to send me crashing onto the sofa behind me.

“You—”

The protest never made it past my lips. Because his mouth claimed mine.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t polite.

It wasn’t normal.

It was a gun going off after being locked too long in a vault. An explosion.

His tongue found mine, our breaths tangled, and me .. the Thalia, who was supposed to be angry, disgusted, done .. grabbed his collar and kissed him back with a depth that betrayed every lie I’d told myself.

And tonight I had one mission.

To make Kaiden Alejandro de Domínguez regret the day he ever sent me to the guest room.