Page 16 of The Replay

"At all. If my friends see us having any kind of feelings for each other— whether good or bad— they will assume we're rekindling things and push us to it. And these people? My dear friends? They're relentless."

"We're not rekindling anything!" My voice gets louder on the last word. My eyebrows go up to my hairline. "I'm not dating an ex, especially not an ex I work with while trying to impress the boss."

I take a step back, needing extra distance between us. No way I'm jumping out of a yet-to-be-finalized fucking divorce to go back to Dom's bed.

"Oh, I know that." Bitterness etches his words. "I'm not looking to reminisce with you either, Princesa."

The word is a punch delivered right to the center of my chest. Back when we were happy and in love, I told him I hated pet names. Of course, that meant he teased me with them, relentlessly, continuously finding new ways to make me laugh and cringe in equal measure. None of them stuck for long, but he used Princesa a few times. He said it was for the way my family treated me. Not the fairytale kind, but the ones who come with a million political responsibilities.

I bet he thinks it's hilarious that I ended up marrying into the extended monarchy. He'd argue he won that bet. Nevermind we never wagered on that.

"Don't call me that, Dominic." I clench my jaw. "Don't go back to those ridiculous names."

Dom crosses his arms again. "It slipped out. Won't happen again."

"Make sure of it, or your friends will for sure meddle, and I hear we have to do whatever it takes to stop that from happening."

"Correct. So we need to get out of here before they decide I'm fucking you against the wall, and decide to interfere anyway."

"They what?!" I gaze around, as if witnesses have appeared out of thin air… or as if the walls are calling my name all of a sudden.

"We need to be neutral with each other." He runs his hands down his short beard. It's a strained gesture. "We need to pretend we have no past. Convince them there's no future."

"I can do that." I purse my lips. "We need to be cold? I learned to appear collected."

"Use your royal training and mask away."

"You know I was getting etiquette classes before all of that."

"I'll pretend I forgot everything, Duchess."

"If you're going to keep using those names, then I can stay angry instead."

"I prefer not feeling anything at all."

"And yet you're angry, too."

His smirk is cold. "I was never good at making my heart do as told."

The dryer stops. A short tune plays, announcing the job is done. We ignore it. Dom and I stare at each other. My heart pulses again, but is undecided on what emotion to settle on. Disappointment, hurt, and frustration are top of mind.

I take a quick, but deep, breath. "I said I wouldn't fake pleasantries anymore, now that I'm getting free of all of that. But for this, I'll fake some more. Cool and collected Mariana, once more."

"That's what I thought."

He doesn't give me more than a simple nod. With one hand keeping his towel in place, he walks past me and opens the door.

"Right after you," he says.

I glance at him. He stares right back at me.

Pursing my lips, I leave the service room. Not a pleasant word his way. Not even a see you later. I walk away toward my office, and don't look back.

A few hours later, I send an email to my lawyers in England. They'll get my request first thing in the morning. I need them to push harder. I want my divorce done as soon as possible.

When the confirmation finally comes on Monday, I'm ready to throw a party.

Pen's invitation to the club seems like the perfect way to celebrate if I don't think too much about it. If I did, the double edge on that sword might scare me off.