Amara’s pov

Nicholas released my wrist so quickly that my bags dropped completely to the ground.

I stood there staring at the man in front of me, trying to understand how the stranger from the bar had somehow ended up at my house and, more importantly, why he had just called me his wife.

Zayn did not look at Nicholas for long before turning his attention to me. His eyes went straight to my wrist, where his fingers carefully touched the place Nicholas had been holding.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. Nicholas stepped forward, his face filled with anger.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

Zayn slowly looked at him. “The man telling you to keep your hands off her.”

Nicholas laughed without humor and pointed toward me. “She is my wife.”

Zayn looked at me again, then back at him. “Not anymore.”

My head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”

I finally found my voice, but he did not answer me. Nicholas looked between us as if he had missed something important.

“Amara, what is this?”

I shook my head because I had no idea what was happening either. Zayn stepped closer, but he kept enough distance that I did not feel trapped.

“You should leave,” he told Nicholas. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Nicholas gave him a hard look. “It has everything to do with me. She is my wife.”

I bent down and picked up one of my bags, my hands still shaking from everything that had happened.

“Not for much longer,” I said quietly.

Nicholas turned toward me. “Amara, please.”

I looked at him and saw the same man who had begged me not to leave his office after I caught him with Celine, nothing about his face could change what I had seen.

“I told you I was done.”

Zayn glanced at Nicholas once more. “You heard her.”

“Who are you?” Nicholas asked again, and this time Zayn smiled without looking amused.

“Zayn Kareem.”

Nicholas's face changed immediately. He knew the name. I could tell from the way he stopped speaking for a second.

I had heard Nicholas mention Zayn before, usually when talking about people who controlled too much of the Seattle business world. Zayn was not simply some wealthy man who had walked into the wrong house. He was the billionaire everyone knew.

Nicholas looked at me with a new kind of disbelief. “You know him?”

I almost laughed because the question was ridiculous. “I met him last night.”

Zayn's eyebrow lifted slightly. “Technically, she walked into me.”

I turned toward him. “That is not helping.”

“I know.” His answer was so calm that I almost lost my temper again.

“You called me your wife.”

He looked at me for a moment. “I did.”

“Why?”

He glanced toward the street where several people had stopped to watch what was happening. I followed his gaze and noticed two men standing near a parked car, both holding cameras.

My stomach dropped. “Are those reporters?” I asked.

Zayn nodded. “They were following me.”

I stared at him. “And they heard you call me your wife?”

“They heard everything.”

I looked at Jemima's car, but she had already driven away after telling me she would give me space to deal with Nicholas.

I suddenly wished she were still there. I had no idea how I was supposed to deal with this man, my cheating husband, my divorce, and a group of reporters who had apparently just watched the whole thing. Nicholas moved closer again, but this time Zayn stepped between us.

“Don't.”

His voice was calm, but Nicholas stopped. I picked up the rest of my things and held them against myself.

“I am leaving.”

Nicholas looked at me. “Amara.”

I did not answer him. I walked toward the gate, but before I could reach it, Zayn spoke again.

“Amara, wait.”

I stopped but did not turn around immediately. Nicholas was behind me, but I was tired of his apologies. When I turned, Zayn was watching me.

“What?” I asked.

He glanced toward the street. “You cannot leave like this.”

I followed his gaze and saw the reporters still standing near the cars, their cameras pointed already directly toward us.

“You caused this,” I said.

“I know.” He did not argue.

“Then fix it.”

He nodded slowly. “I will.”

Nicholas stepped outside again. “Amara, please.”

I looked at him. “I am done listening to you.”

I did not care about his regret anymore. I picked up my suitcase and walked toward my car.

Zayn followed, keeping his distance. “Let me take you home,” he said.

“I don't know you.”

“I know.” He looked toward the reporters again. “But they already believe they know you because of me.”

Another camera flashed, and I covered my face with my hand, wishing the ground would open.

“This is unbelievable.”

Zayn walked toward the reporters and spoke to them quietly. After a short conversation, they began moving away. I watched him return.

“What did you tell them?” I asked.

“That they had enough pictures for one night.”

I shook my head. “You are still not explaining why you called me your wife.”

He looked at me for a moment. “Because Nicholas needed to let you go.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It made sense at the time.”

I finally opened my car door. “Well, now I have another problem.”

He leaned slightly closer. “Tomorrow, we will talk.”

“About what?”

His eyes stayed on mine. “About the fact that everyone who saw us tonight thinks you are my wife.”

I stared at him. “You have to be kidding me.”

He gave me a small smile. “I wish I were.”