The idea hade to her suddenly, but it left Esmeralda tossing and turning the entire night. Finding someone reliable-someone who wouldn''t make a mess of things-seemed nearly impossible.


    She''d gone over every possibility again and again with no satisfying answer.


    By the time she made it to the office, her skull felt like it was stuffed with cotton.


    Alexander Sterling drifted past her door, pausing just long enough to poke his head inside. "Rough night?" he remarked, surveying her with a half-grin.


    "Your dark circles could win awards."


    Esmeralda sprawled across her chair, too tired even for sarcasm. “Yeah" she mumbled, "I was out with guysst night."


    Alexander''s brows shot up. He gave a low, disbelieving click of his tongue. "Since when do you tell tall tales?"


    She gritted her teeth. Why did he always look down on her? But any retort died before it could reach her lips. Frankly, it wasn''t just Alexander. Everyone seemed convinced she was hopelessly infatuated with Fleming. Maybe that was why her father still refused to consider calling off the engagement.


    Alexander must have sensed something was really wrong this time. He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him; all traces of jest vanished. Normally, Esmeralda was a bundle of energy, but now she sat there as if her batteries had been pulled out. Her eyes had lost their familiar spark.


    Thinking she might still be unwell, Alexander walked up and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature. He frowned deeply, concern flickering in his eyes. "You''re not feverish anymore, so why do you look so awful?”


    Esmeralda threw her head back, face drained of color, and offered him a bleak, humorless smile. “Alex,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, "do you think there''s any actual chance I''ll get to cancel this wedding?"


    Alexander''s gaze sharpened; his usual levity vanished. He looked right at her. "You''re serious?" he asked.


    Whatever hope she''d clung to wilted. "Is it just na?ve?" she said quietly, looking at the floor.


    Alexander fell silent, piecing together the shape of her despair. He knew Esmeralda better than anyone. If she raised something twice, then she''d made up her mind. He stood by her side, not moving, his palm still lightly on her forehead, lost in thought.


    She nced up at him, searching his face. "Alex? What''s going through that head of yours?"


    He seemed to snap out of it, exchanging the feather-light


    temperature check for a gentle poke


    between her brows was just thinking about that chatty cat of yours," he said. "Maybe I should


    have


    è another conversation with her next time."


    Esmeralda blinked in confusion. "What?"


    He looked down, hesitation heavy in his voice. "Esmeralda" He didn''t finish.


    The moment was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. An assistant stepped inside. "Boss, you have a visitor."


    Alexander gave a nod, and Esmeralda pushed herself out of the chair with what little strength she had left. "Who is it?" she asked.


    Her answer arrived almost instantly-a tall, impably dressed figure filling the doorway. Fleming''s gaze brushed over Alexander with a kind of frosty indifference, as though he were little more than a piece of st furniture.


    her


    "Do you have a minute?" Fleming asked quietly.


    Just seeing him made Esmeralda''s temples throb again. Alexander gave her a meaningful nce. "I''ll give you two some privacy," he said. As he passed Fleming in the doorway, their eyes met for a second-just long enough for Alexander to look away. Now wasn''t the time to push boundaries. After all, Esmeralda was still Fleming''s fiancée; if he got too involved, it could only damage her reputation.


    Fleming watched Alexander retreat, a frown tugging at his mouth. Something about the man''s presence was unsettling, and he couldn''t quite put his finger on why.


    Esmeralda''sposure returned, icy and even. "So what do you want?" she asked.


    Fleming turned toward her, his voice level and businesslike. “I took the day off. Let''s pick out our wedding rings."


    He thought—absurdly—that this was a gesture of goodwill, something he believed would bring her happiness.


    All it did was churn the bitterness inside her. He was always sidestepping the real issue, as though acting like nothing had happened—or offering some little trinket— would set everything right again.


    Staring straight at him, she said, "I told you I want to call things off, and I''m not going back on it. But nobody listens to me. If you''d just tell them, it''d all be over."


    It was the only way she could see out. If Fleming said the word, no one would argue.


    Fleming''s chest tightened, sharp and sudden, his gaze turning somber and cold.