Chapter 2 We Meet Again.

Killian's POV The moment I saw the New York Chronicle headline, I knew Naomi was screwed. "The Kensington Wedding Disaster: A Night of Fire, Fights, and Failure!" It was plastered across the front page in bold, damning letters. Below it, an unflattering photograph of Naomi standing in the middle of the ruined ballroom, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror. I clicked on the article and skimmed through it, already knowing what I'd find. "Naomi Lancaster, owner of Lancaster Luxe Events, was responsible for what was supposed to be the wedding of the decade.

Instead, it became one of the most humiliating disasters in high society history." "Guests were met with chaos-champagne shortages, misplaced seating arrangements, and an undercooked main course that had several attendees complaining of food poisoning by midnight. But the crowning moment of catastrophe? A fire breaks out near the floral arrangement, forcing the bride and groom to evacuate before even cutting their cake." The comments were even worse. "She should be blacklisted from the industry." "Who the hell let her plan a wedding at this level?" "Kensington money wasted. Naomi Lancaster should never work in this city again." I sat back, exhaling as I scrolled through the relentless criticism. I knew Naomi had built Lancaster Luxe Events from the ground up. She'd clawed her way to the top of New York's event-planning industry, earning herself a reputation as one of the most sought-after names in high-society weddings. And now, it was all unraveling. I should've felt indifferent. This was none of my concern. We hadn't spoken in five years-five years since our divorce, three years since she walked away and never looked back. If she was failing, it was her own damn problem. So why the hell was I still reading? Why had I already placed a call to my lawyers, just to confirm whether or not the lawsuits were real? I closed the article and leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers under my chin while gazing out the window. The city lay before me, lit by the golden light of the setting sun. My penthouse office was on the top floor of the Blackwood Tower, a reminder of all I had created, all I managed. And yet, control was exactly what I was losing. My own problems were stacking up like a house of cards, and if I didn't act soon, the entire empire I had spent years building would crumble beneath me. The irony wasn't lost on me. Naomi's business was failing. Mine was under siege. And the one solution I had-one that could solve both our problems-depended entirely on whether or not she was desperate enough to take my offer. I tapped a finger against my jaw, considering my options. Naomi was proud. Too proud. She wouldn't come to me willingly. If I showed up now, she'd slam the door in my face. But give her a little time-let the lawsuits pile up, let the Kensingtons drag her name through the mud-then she'd have no choice but to listen. I wasn't a man who left things to chance. I played to win. And this time? I wasn't just playing for myself. I was playing for her, too. Even if she didn't know it yet. **** (Later That Night) "Hey, bro, tell me you've seen the papers today..." Julian's voice came through from the other end of my phone. I sighed, leaning back in my car seat. "I have," I answered, my tone curt as I pressed a finger to the bridge of my nose. "And you have seen it." It wasn't a question but I knew what he was subtly asking me. I exhaled sharply. "Yes, I have seen the Lancaster scandal and no, I am not interested." Julian scoffed. "You've always been such a shitty liar, you know." "Fuck off," I muttered to which he laughed. "You should go visit her, see how she's doing," he added. This time I was the one who laughed out loud. "You did not just tell me to visit my ex-wife like we have been on speaking terms since our divorce?" "Well..." Julian drawled and I could imagine him shrugging. "You can never be sure until you see her." I contemplated his words long after our call ended, if what Julian said was the truth... I shook my head, trying to get rid of all the nonsense thoughts in them. I didn't plan to see her. Not yet. But when my driver arrived at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and I spotted her-sitting alone at an outdoor café, her phone in hand, her gaze far away-I told him to stop. The city was buzzing around her. Taxis honked. Pedestrians hurried by, absorbed in their own lives. But Naomi sat still, hardly touching the untouched coffee before her. She looked different. Not in the obvious ways-she was still stunning, still carried herself with the same effortless grace that used to drive me insane. But there was something else. Something in her posture. Something in how she stared blankly at her phone, as if preparing for the next disaster. I knew that look. It was the look of someone barely keeping their head above water. I could've walked away. Could've ignored the way my chest tightened at the sight of her. But I didn't. Instead, I got out of the car, adjusted my jacket, and crossed the street. Her fingers clutched her phone so tightly that I wondered if she even noticed. I stopped beside her table but she didn't look up as she was self-absorbed into staring at her phone "Still prefer your coffee black, or have your tastes changed?" I called out, my time light and vague. Her head jerked up so fast I almost smirked. Almost. Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw it-the flicker of recognition, the memories of what we had been and what we weren't anymore. Then, just as quickly, her face turned cold. "What the hell are you doing here?" she muttered. "Resorting to stalking now?" I raised an eyebrow and put my hands in my pockets. "I was in the neighborhood." "Bullshit." I let out a quiet laugh. Some things never changed. Naomi has never believed in coincidences. She leaned back in her chair, sitting rigidly. Her defenses were up, the same ones I had tried-and failed-to break through for years. "I honestly don't have time for whatever shit you're trying to pull right now, Killian." She waved vaguely at the space between us, as if the invisible connection between us was more than just a hassle. I ignored her dismissal and took the chair across from her. She exhaled sharply. "Seriously?" I shrugged. "I thought you might like some company." Her jaw tightened, but she didn't ask me to go. That was progress. I leaned back, studying her as my gut clenched. Fuck, she still looked so beautiful. "You look like hell," I said, clearing my throat. "Wow," she muttered, rolling her eyes dramatically. "What a compliment." "You're welcome." I nodded. Her lips twitched, but she quickly masked it with a scowl, shaking her head slightly. For a moment, we both stayed silent. The city continued around us, cars and voices merging into a distant noise. Finally, she sighed. "You read the article." It wasn't a question. I nodded. "It's brutal." She scoffed. "That's one way to say it." The bitterness in her voice made something in my chest tighten. I hated that she was going through this. Hated that I didn't hate it enough to walk away. I could've told her the truth right then. That I had an offer-one that could solve everything, keep her business running, and shield her from the fallout. But I didn't think Naomi was ready to hear it. Not yet. So instead, I just said, "It'll pass." She let out a humorless laugh. "No, Killian. It won't. My company is done. The lawsuits, the bad press-there's no recovering from this." I tilted my head to the side. "Since when do you give up so fast?" A flicker crossed her eyes-anger, perhaps. Or something deeper. Something raw. "I don't," she said quietly. I held her gaze. "Then prove it." She looked at me for a while, as if trying to understand what I wasn't saying. Then, she exhaled and shook her head. "What are you doing here, Killian?" I should've told her. Should've laid out my plan, explained exactly why I needed her, why she needed me. Instead, I just said, "I'll see you soon, Naomi." And before she could argue, before she could put up another wall, I stood and walked away. Because this wasn't the time. But soon? Soon, she'd have no choice but to listen.