Chapter 2

I woke up at seven like always, expecting to have the kitchen to myself.

Kieran was usually gone by seven-thirty, off to make million-dollar deals or fly somewhere important in his private jet. The man lived and breathed work.

But when I walked into the kitchen, there he was.

Sitting at the counter, drinking coffee, still in his pajamas.

At eight in the morning. On a Tuesday.

"Good morning," I said carefully, like I was talking to a wild animal that might bolt.

"Morning." He looked up from his phone. "How did you sleep?"

I blinked. "Fine. Thanks."

This was weird. Kieran had never asked about my sleep in months of marriage.

I grabbed my usual breakfast - oatmeal with berries - and sat down across from him. He watched me eat like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"You eat that every morning?" he asked.

"Pretty much. It's healthy." I took another spoonful, feeling self-conscious. "Good for athletes, you know?"

Kieran frowned like my oatmeal had personally offended him.

Then he got up and opened the fridge. Started pulling out organic vegetables and expensive protein powder I didn't even know we had.

"Starting tomorrow, Maria will prepare your meals," he said. "Proper nutrition. More vegetables, lean proteins, antioxidants."

I stared at him. "Maria's our housekeeper. She doesn't cook."

"I'll hire someone."

"Kieran, what's going on?"

He paused, vegetables in his arms. "Nothing. I just think you should eat better."

Better? I ate fine. I was an athlete, for crying out loud. I knew about nutrition.

"Don't you have work?" I asked.

"I canceled my meetings."

Now I was really confused. Kieran Vale did not cancel meetings. Ever. His assistant once told me he'd taken a conference call during his father's funeral.

"Are you sick?"

"No." He sat back down, still watching me with that weird intensity. "The company can handle itself for a day."

Since when?

I finished my oatmeal in silence, trying to figure out what was happening. Kieran kept asking questions. Was I sleeping okay? Any headaches? Feeling tired lately?

Like I was his patient instead of his contract wife.

My phone buzzed with a text from Maya, my friend from the gym. The message made my stomach drop.

"Holy shit, did you see the news? Celeste Winters is coming back!"

Attached was a link to a sports blog. The headline read: "Olympic Silver Medalist Celeste Winters Returns from Europe, Hints at Comeback."

Oh.

That explained everything.

I glanced at Kieran, who was now reading something on his laptop with unusual focus. His jaw was tense.

Celeste Winters. The figure skating princess. Olympic silver medalist. Gorgeous, talented, and according to every gossip magazine in America, the great love of Kieran Vale's life.

I remembered what his assistant had told me when I signed the contract. "Don't get confused about your role here," she'd said. "Mr. Vale had his heart broken by someone very special. You're just... temporary help. A business arrangement. Don't think it's anything more."

The someone very special was obviously Celeste.

I'd seen the photos online. Her and Kieran at charity galas, looking perfect together. Her with her platinum blonde hair and designer dresses, him in his expensive suits. They looked like they belonged in the same world.

Not like him and me.

The rumors said they'd broken up because of her skating career. She'd moved to Europe to train, he'd stayed in LA to build his business empire. Star-crossed lovers and all that.

Now she was back.

Maybe Kieran was having second thoughts about our arrangement. Maybe he wanted to clean up his life before she returned. Make sure there were no complications.

"I should get to work," I said, standing up.

"Actually," Kieran said, "maybe you should take today off."

"What? Why?"

"You work too hard. When's the last time you took a break?"

I stared at him. This was definitely not the Kieran I knew. The real Kieran barely acknowledged my existence, let alone worried about my work schedule.

"The kids are counting on me," I said. "Besides, I like my job."

Something flickered across his face. "Of course. Just... don't overdo it."

The whole conversation was surreal.

I grabbed my gym bag and headed for the door, still trying to process what had just happened.

"Ember," Kieran called after me.

I turned around.

"Be careful today, okay?"

Be careful? I was going to teach boxing to teenagers, not climb Mount Everest.

"Sure," I said, because I didn't know what else to say.

The drive to the community center was confusing. Kieran's behavior made no sense. Unless...

Maybe he was trying to butter me up before asking for an early termination of our contract. Be nice to me so I wouldn't cause trouble when he kicked me out.

That had to be it.

The community center was buzzing when I arrived. The kids were already warming up, and Marcus waved when he saw me.

"You're late, Coach!"

"Five minutes," I laughed, dropping my bag in the corner.

We ran through drills for two hours. Footwork, combinations, conditioning. The familiar rhythm of training helped clear my head.

It wasn't until lunch break that I noticed something was off.

My bag looked different. Like someone had gone through it.

I never left the bag unattended, but I'd stepped away for maybe ten minutes to help Marcus with his form. Had someone been looking through my stuff?

I unzipped the main compartment and checked everything. Wallet, keys, protein bar, water bottle.

Wait.

Where was that medical report?

I'd been carrying it around for weeks, meaning to return it to the documentary crew. It was a fake cancer diagnosis they'd used for this film about athlete health scares. Super realistic looking, which was why they'd needed it back.

But now it was gone.

I checked every pocket, every compartment. Nothing.

Oh well. It wasn't like it was important anyway. The documentary filming was over, so they probably didn't even need it back.