Legally Strangers

Stella

A deep frown pulls at my brows as I glance around the crowded bar, wondering what on earth brought Vance to a place like this. Sure, it is the finest spot in the entire capital, yet bumping into him tonight was the absolute last thing on my radar.

I already knew he was in town, of course, though I never imagined our paths would actually cross. Honestly, a huge part of me had been praying I would never have to lay eyes on him again for the rest of my life.

Irritatingly enough, he looks every bit as striking as he always did. I hate that the thought even crosses my mind, yet there is no denying it. Soft brown strands fall loosely across his forehead, forcing me to fight down the old, familiar reflex to reach up and brush them aside. His eyes narrow slightly, a strange, indecipherable emotion swirling in those dark brown depths.

Deep inside, my dormant wolf perks her ears up, waking from her slumber just because he is standing a foot away. It takes everything in me to fight off the sudden, magnetic pull urging me to lean into his warmth.

“What is your problem?” I snap, clinging tightly to my anger to keep my head straight. If he wants to play petty games tonight, two can play at that. “Mister, who do you think you are speaking to me in that tone? Where do you even get the nerve to act this obnoxious toward someone you don’t know?”

His jaw sets hard. Just past his broad shoulder, Nolan glances uneasily back and forth between the two of us.

“Someone you don’t know, huh?” Vance fires back, stepping an inch closer. “Allow me to properly introduce myself, then. The name is Vance—your ex-husband.”

“My ex-husband? Then you ought to remember our divorce is completely finalized, which means my life is none of your business anymore. Now, excuse me.” I shift to the side to walk right past him, only for him to mirror my step and cut off my path.

“We shared a life together for a long time,” he insists, his voice dropping low. “Looking out for your wellbeing is still my responsibility.”

“Legally speaking, we are nothing more than two strangers on the street.”

When I try to sidestep him a second time, his hand shoots out and wraps firmly around my arm, making my entire body go rigid.

“Have you seriously been going out with a new guy every single night since we signed those papers?” he demands.

Yanking my arm out of his grasp, I back up a full step to put space between us. “What, are you having me followed now? Since when did your wounded ego make you this pathetically jealous?”

“Why the hell would I waste time following you?” he bites back, a harsh edge entering his voice. “I’m in town for the Alpha gathering, not to chase after you. It isn't my fault I walked in here and got stuck watching your little show. I just can’t wrap my head around why you’re burning through so many men. What happened, was Declan not cutting it for you anymore?”

I stare at him and shake my head, completely floored by what just came out of his mouth. “Declan, the guy who tended our gardens? I haven’t laid eyes on him once since the day I packed my bags and left your house!” Declan was a genuinely kind guy and great at his job. Sure, we got along well and I could appreciate that he was easy on the eyes, yet it never went a single step beyond friendly conversation.

Vance lets out a bitter scoff. “Right, because he’s only a gardener at the end of the day. You decided to trade up for some wealthy young upstart who can fund your lifestyle instead?”

The insulting insinuation in his voice sends a fresh wave of heat rushing straight to my face. Where does he get off interrogating me after everything he put me through? He was the one who threw our marriage away, not me.

He stands there with his shoulders squared and rigid, clearly bracing himself for a full-blown screaming match. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Moving to the capital gave me a fresh start, and I have worked hard to build a genuinely good life here. Letting him drag me back into old misery is a complete waste of breath.

“I came to the capital to start over from scratch, so we might as well leave the past buried where it belongs,” I tell him evenly. “Dragging this out does nothing for either of us. We have zero ties to each other anymore, which means you can drop the act and stop pretending you give a damn about me.”

Shoving right past his shoulder, I keep walking, and this time he makes no move to block me. When he pivots to watch me go, the scowl etched into his face darkens the second I reach out and lace my fingers through Nolan’s. To Nolan’s credit, he straightens his posture right up, doing an admirable job of holding his ground against the intimidating Alpha glaring him down.

“I’m a big fan of the Ritz, aren't you?” I say brightly to Nolan, keeping my back deliberately turned on Vance just to twist the knife a little deeper.

Catching on immediately, Nolan looks down at me with an easy grin. “I actually have a thirty-thousand-dollar mattress sitting at my place. Why don’t we head back there and put it to the test?”

“Sounds great to me.”

Right on cue, an explosive crash shatters the noise directly behind us. Spinning on my heel, I gape at the bar. Broken glass litters the floor around Vance’s shoes, and his bare fist is still clamped tight around the jagged neck of a wine bottle.

Dark red liquid spreads across the counter and spills over the edge, dripping steadily onto the floorboards. Without flinching, he sets the broken bottleneck onto a nearby shelf and looks straight at the nearest server.

An awkward silence ripples through the room as heads turn in our direction. Vance acts completely unfazed by the staring crowd—or at least, he puts on a very convincing front.

“Add the damage to my tab,” he tells the waiter flatly. “And bring me a glass of the hardest wine you keep behind that counter.”

My brows shoot up in alarm. For as long as I knew him, Vance avoided alcohol like the plague because even a single glass triggers severe bleeding in his stomach. For a split second, my feet itch to march over there and knock the glass out of his hand, yet I force myself to stay rooted to the spot. Whatever he does to himself is no longer my burden to carry.

He was the one who walked out on me first. If he thinks hurting himself right in front of me is going to wring an ounce of pity out of my chest, he has another thing coming.

Little by little, the chatter picks back up around the room and couples return to the dance floor. The moment Vance tips the glass back and swallows a heavy mouthful of liquor, I tear my gaze away.

“Sorry you got dragged into that,” I murmur, turning my full attention back to Nolan. “That was my ex-husband. We haven’t crossed paths in quite a while.”

Nolan offers a warm smile and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Safe to say the guy isn't having the best night.”

“I’ve already made up my mind to move forward and leave old history behind.” Maybe if I repeat that line enough times out loud, I will actually start believing it myself. “Anyway, weren't we just talking about heading to a hotel?”

A bright smile breaks across his face.

Ten days later, my restaurant manager, Nadine, steps smoothly past the host counter to guide a group of well-dressed men toward a reserved table. Watching them cross the dining room brings a quiet smile to my lips.

Walking at the front of the pack, Nolan glances over his shoulder to chat easily with his colleagues. We have been spending time together for a little over a week now, and honestly, I couldn't ask for better company. He has been nothing short of a complete gentleman from day one.

Even better, after having dinner here a few nights ago, he mentioned wanting to put money into the business as an investor. Tonight, he brought a handful of coworkers along to try the menu for themselves. From what I hear, he hasn't stopped singing the kitchen’s praises at his office, and knowing how much he genuinely loves my cooking sends a pleasant warmth spreading through my chest.

Only last night, the two of us met up for drinks at a hotel down the street, where he pulled me out onto the center of the floor and spun me around in his arms while we danced.

The front door swings open, and the click of heels crosses the entrance toward my counter. “Hello.”

Glancing up from the ledger, I find a young woman standing politely in front of me. She is dressed in an understated beige dress with a strand of diamonds resting against her collarbone, her dark brown hair swept neatly into a curled chignon at the nape of her neck.

Then my eyes shift past her shoulder to the man standing directly behind her, and the breath catches in my throat.

Vance steps up beside her, looking every bit as blindsided to see me as I am to see him. Decked out in a tailored three-piece suit, he sports a dark hint of five o’clock shadow that only makes the sharp angles of his face even more devastatingly handsome. I swallow past the sudden knot in my throat.

“Excuse me,” the woman speaks up, breaking the silence. “I’d like to confirm a reservation under our name, if you don’t mind.”