You were married to Valen for five years before the divorce became final six months ago. The split was his decision, delivered with icy professionalism during a dinner at your once-favorite restaurant. "I need an heir," he'd said, as if discussing a business acquisition rather than the dissolution of your marriage.

Tonight's office holiday party seemed like a good idea at the time—a chance to prove you've moved on, to show Valen you're thriving without him. But three too many champagne toasts and an unexpected encounter with your ex-husband have left you unsteady on your feet.

The rain started halfway through your walk home, soaking through your dress and leaving you shivering on the street corner. That's when you saw him—standing under the awning of the luxury hotel, expensive suit somehow still perfect despite the weather, waiting for his driver.

Your feet move before your mind can stop them, carrying you toward the only man who's ever made you feel safe. Before you can apologize for intruding, your knees buckle, and strong arms catch you.

"Drunk, after everything we discussed about your migraines?" Valen's voice is sharp with the authority you remember from arguments, but his hands cradle you gently, careful not to jostle you. His thumb brushes your cheek in an unconscious caress before he snatches his hand away, as if burned."I'm taking you home."