The Hamptons were a different kind of monster.
If the boardroom was a shark tank, this charity brunch was a nest of vipers hidden in designer linen and pastel sundresses. The air smelled like mown grass, expensive champagne, and the kind of entitlement that made my skin itch.
I adjusted the brim of my wide-brimmed straw hat—yet another piece of the "Billionaire's Wife Starter Kit"—and tried not to trip over the manicured lawn in my wedges.
"Stop looking at the silverware like you're planning to steal it," Reid muttered, his hand finding the small of my back. He looked effortlessly handsome in a light gray suit, his sunglasses hiding the fatigue I knew was lurking behind his eyes from our shared night in the master suite.
"I'm not planning to steal it," I hissed back, leaning into him just enough to satisfy the photographers hovering by the rose bushes. "I'm just marveling at the fact that one of these forks costs more than my monthly electricity bill. It's hard to stay 'unshakeable' when I'm surrounded by this much waste."
"It's not waste, Maya. It's branding," Reid said, his voice dropping as we approached the main tent. "Smile. Here comes the head of the Charity Committee. She has the gossip reach of a small intelligence agency."
The brunch was a blur of air-kisses and polite lies until we were seated at a circular table draped in silk. And of course, sitting directly across from us, looking like a tropical storm in a yellow silk dress, was Cassandra Vance.
She didn't wait for the appetizers to arrive before she struck.
"Reid, dear, I was just telling everyone about your father's sudden... change in perspective," Cassandra said, her voice carrying just a bit too far. "It's so brave of you to bring Maya to such an intimate event. I was worried she might feel out of place, given that the last time she was at a table this size, she was probably clearing it."
A few muffled snickers broke out around the table. My grip tightened on my champagne flute.
"I find that the view is much better from this side of the table, Cassandra," I said, my voice steady and cold. "But you're right, my experience is different. I actually know how to work for a living. I imagine that's a concept you've only read about in Forbes."
Reid didn't reprimand me. Instead, he reached over and covered my hand with his, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line over my knuckles. It was a silent show of support that made my heart do a traitorous little flip.
"Maya's perspective is exactly what Sterling Enterprises needs," Reid said, his gaze level as he stared down Cassandra. "A bit of reality in a world that's increasingly detached from it."
Cassandra's smile didn't falter, but her eyes turned lethal. "Speaking of reality... I heard a fascinating rumor this morning. Something about a certain hospice in Queens? A facility that, coincidentally, is looking for a new corporate sponsor?"
The air in my lungs turned to lead. She was doing it. She was going after my mother.
Reid's grip on my hand tightened until it was almost painful. "The Sterling Foundation handles hundreds of sponsorships, Cassandra. I fail to see the fascination."
"Oh, it's just that the board was asking questions about 'conflict of interest,'" Cassandra continued, leaning forward, her gaze locked on me. "Using corporate funds to settle personal... family debts? That's a very dangerous line to walk, Reid. Even for you."
I felt the panic rising, a cold, oily slick in my chest. If she brought my mother's care into the spotlight, if she made it look like Reid was bribing me with medical treatment, the "Contract Marriage" wouldn't just be a scandal—it would be a crime.
"I'm the one who suggested the hospice sponsorship," I blurted out.
Reid turned to me, his eyes wide with warning, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.
"I saw the way the Sterling Foundation was ignoring the smaller facilities in favor of the high-profile hospitals," I lied, my voice growing stronger as I tapped into my "waitress" bravado. "I told Reid that if he wanted to honor his father's legacy, he should start with the places that actually save lives without a gala invitation. If the board thinks that's a 'conflict,' then maybe they should spend a night in a Queens waiting room instead of a Hamptons tent."
The table went silent. Even the clink of silverware stopped.
Cassandra looked like she'd been slapped. She'd expected me to cower, to let Reid defend me. She hadn't expected the "diner girl" to turn the moral high ground into a weapon.
"A bold strategy," a deep voice boomed from the head of the table. It was Marcus Sterling. He'd been watching the exchange like a hawk. "Using the 'charity' angle to cover the tracks. Clever, Maya. Very clever."
"It's not an angle, Marcus," Reid said, his voice like iron. "It's the truth. And if you want to question Maya's integrity again, you can do it in front of the press corps waiting outside. I'm sure they'd love to hear why the Sterling board is so opposed to funding hospice care for the elderly."
Marcus narrowed his eyes, then gave a curt, stiff nod. "We'll see how your 'truth' holds up under the audit, Reid."
As the meal continued, the tension remained thick enough to choke on. I didn't eat a single bite of the lobster frittata. I just kept my hand under Reid's, drawing strength from the warmth of his skin.
When we finally escaped back to the car, the silence was immediate and heavy.
Reid didn't say anything until we were miles away from the estate. He pulled the car over onto a side road, killed the engine, and turned to me.
"That was the most reckless, dangerous, and brilliantly human thing I've ever seen," he said. His voice wasn't angry. It was raw.
"She was going after my mom, Reid. I didn't have a choice." I felt the tears finally stinging my eyes, the adrenaline crash hitting me like a physical weight. "I hate this. I hate these people. I hate that I have to lie to save the woman I love."
Reid didn't use the "Ice King" mask. He reached across the center console and pulled me into his arms. It wasn't a "contract" hug. It was a desperate, messy, human embrace. I buried my face in his shoulder, the scent of his expensive suit mixed with the salt of my tears.
"I've got you," he whispered into my hair. "I won't let them touch her, Maya. I promise."
I pulled back, looking at him. The gray of his eyes was softer now, the flint replaced by something that looked dangerously like affection.
"Rule number two, Reid," I reminded him, my voice trembling. "No feelings."
Reid reached out, his thumb catching a tear on my cheek. "I think we're going to need a bigger rulebook, Maya."
He leaned in, and this time, there were no cameras. No board members. No Cassandra. There was just the sound of the wind in the trees and the desperate, terrifying pull between two people who were never supposed to fall.
When his lips met mine, it wasn't a "business transaction." It was a five-million-dollar mistake.
And it was the best thing I'd ever felt.