Simone Brooks went pale, her eyes widening in shock. "How did you find out?"

Houston Martinez scowled, digging into his pocket to fish out a small parcel and practically shoving it into her coat pocket. "Put it on," he snapped, a thread of irritation fraying his voice.

Simone slipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the fabric. When she realized what it was, her breath caught, disbelief flooding her features. "How the hell did you end up with this?"

Houston didn't even blink at her shock. "You really have no clue? They got mixed in with my stuff. I was in a rush last night, didn't notice a damn thing."

Simone couldn't shake the thought—maybe he had some creepy little quirk.

With a flat "Oh," she turned on her heel and hurried back inside.

Once she'd slipped into her clothes, a wave of security settled over her again. It hit her then—when Houston said he left in a rush last night, he meant right after they were together. He hadn't even waited for morning. What a coldhearted player.

She could almost picture how utterly insignificant she must look in his eyes.

Still, it wasn't like she cared much. She'd never pretended to be some righteous saint.

Back in the seating area, Phoenix Robinson was on his phone. From the one-sided conversation, it was obvious Noor Miller was checking in on him.

Phoenix wrapped it up with, "I'll hit you back when I'm done here, okay? Be good."

Drew, one of their crew, jabbed a finger at him with a teasing grin. "You're acting hella suspicious. Something's up with you, man."

Phoenix flashed his call log at Drew, all playful innocence. "It's my mom!"

Noor was his "mom," barely ten years older than him—and the same woman Simone had caught him sharing a bed with just days ago. Her little "mom" title gave her the power to check up on him, way more authority than Simone ever had.

Nobody would ever question the affectionate nicknames between "mother" and son, right?

At first, Simone had actually bought that Phoenix and Noor were the real deal—mother and son. She'd been terrified of even hinting at a scandal. For two whole days, she kept her mouth shut, too scared to confront Phoenix, until she finally broke down and confessed everything to Haisley Gutierrez. Haisley was the one who dug up the truth: Phoenix's so-called "mom" wasn't his biological mother.

Phoenix's real mother died shortly after he was born. With his father long gone, he'd been bounced around foster homes until he finally snapped. At twelve or thirteen, he ran away to the city, and that's where Noor, ten years older, took him in. From then on, they'd lived together as "mother" and son.

Simone had been with Phoenix since college. She knew he'd been raised by a single parent, but she barely knew a thing about his family. She'd always assumed his mom would share his last name, so she never questioned a thing.

Last year, when they started talking marriage, she finally learned that Phoenix's "mom" was named Noor. It didn't strike her as off at first—not until Haisley called it out. That's when it clicked: something wasn't right. She confronted Phoenix, only to hear him toss out that Houston wasn't even his real uncle, either.

Phoenix deflected everything after that, so Simone dropped it, figuring it was some messy family stuff she had no business in.

Then, by accident, she stumbled onto photos on his tablet—pictures of him and Noor that were way more than cozy. They weren't just lying in bed together; they were kissing. And the photos spanned their entire relationship.

There was no way in hell she could believe that was normal for a "mother-son" thing. She went looking for Phoenix, desperate for answers, only to walk in on him tangled up with Noor with her own eyes.

She slipped away without a sound, pretending nothing had happened. But inside, she was wrecked—not from the betrayal, but from realizing just how blind she'd been.

After two days of feeling like absolute crap, she finally texted Phoenix: "I never imagined your relationship with your mom was so... close!" Then she hopped on the first flight to Dublin.

Simone wasn't some damn martyr. She wasn't about to let seven years of her life just evaporate. Revenge—sleeping with Houston—that was the plan she and Haisley cooked up.

And so, last night happened.

Simone slid back into the seat beside Phoenix like nothing was wrong. He draped an arm around her shoulders, all warm smiles. "Why would I need anything else when I've got you right here, Simone?"

"Ain't that right, darling?" He leaned in to brush a kiss on her cheek, but Simone dodged it with a playful tease.

Their friends jumped right on the opening, someone hollering, "Aw, little Simone's getting shy."

"For real, if Simone wasn't always so buttoned up, I'd have sworn it was her in Houston's room last night. Sounded exactly like her," another laughed.

Simone Brooks froze for a heartbeat. It was crazy that someone had recognized her voice so clearly from last night.

She glanced over at Houston Martinez, seated at the head of the table like he hadn’t heard a word. He just kept eating, casually taking a bite of roast like nothing had happened.

Phoenix Robinson paused a beat before chiming in, turning to Simone with a teasing grin. “Honey, that couldn’t have been you, right?”

Simone shot him a glare, lowering her voice. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Phoenix just laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Just kidding. Lighten up, darling.”

Once upon a time, Simone might have melted at his touch, but now it just made her skin crawl.

“Phoenix.” Houston’s deep voice sliced through the chatter. He tossed a set of keys at Phoenix, his tone low. “Coffee’s out. Grab a couple more from my car. B2 level.”

“Sure, Uncle.” Phoenix stood, grabbing Simone’s hand. “Come with me, babe.”

Houston cut in, sharp. “It’s cold in the garage. Go by yourself.”

“Alright.” Phoenix released her, ruffling her hair again. “Wait here for me, yeah?”

As Phoenix left, Simone’s gaze landed on Houston, curiosity and confusion tangling inside her. She knew he’d purposely sent Phoenix away, but his motive was a mystery.

Houston pointedly ignored her stare, focusing on his friends and the whiskey. After three rounds, he rose. “I’ve got other things to handle. Enjoy.”

He grabbed his coat, draping it over his arm, and as he passed Simone, he gave her shoulder a tap. “You. With me.”

Relief washed over Simone. She nodded politely to the others and quickly fell into step behind him.

She figured Houston was saving her from an awkward solo sit and would take her to Phoenix. Instead, he steered her straight to B3.

“Um, aren’t we going the wrong way? Phoenix is on B2,” she ventured.

Houston stopped beside a black SUV tucked into a dim corner. He opened the back door and nudged her in.

“What are you—” Before she could protest, his mouth captured hers, his body pinning her in place, leaving no room to move. “What do you think?” he breathed against her lips.

Simone was stunned. She was undeniably drawn to Houston, but the idea of this—so brazen, with Phoenix so close—was terrifying. What if Phoenix came looking?

“Please, Uncle, don’t…” she whimpered between scattered kisses, desire warring with common sense. “Let me go. Phoenix could find us!”

The sensory overload, nerves, and fear had her strung tight, yet eager.

Houston’s hand found her throat, a light grip. “Call me ‘Uncle’ again and you’ll see what happens.”

Simone didn’t dare. She clamped her lips together, bracing herself.

Houston’s voice dropped, softer. “Relax. He won’t find us here.”

Only then did Simone’s jaw unclench, her tense whimpers melting into softer, muffled sounds.

Midway through the heated encounter, Simone’s phone shrilled. She stiffened. Houston’s frown was a dark shadow. “Answer it.”

After a beat of hesitation, Simone answered. Phoenix didn’t ask where she was. Instead, he apologized: a client had heard he was in Dublin and wanted to meet urgently. He’d make it up to her, he promised, and said she should head back to the hotel on her own.

Houston chose that moment to apply intentional pressure. Simone bit down on her lip, struggling to sound normal. “Okay.”

“Good girl. I’ll make it up to you tonight!”

She could only manage a soft, “Mm.”

Ending the call was a release. She was finally free to let go entirely.

Over the years, Simone Brooks had developed a sixth sense for every single one of Phoenix Robinson’s fibs—whether or not she'd actually bothered to call him out on them. She used to figure a guy as sharp as Phoenix wouldn't stoop to such lame lies. Her faith in him had always blown her faith in herself out of the water. But right now? She was dead sure Phoenix was playing her. Noor Miller had to be in Belfast, too. Noor clung to him like a second skin, and there was no way in hell she’d let him fly solo to see Simone.

Later tonight, it would totally track if Phoenix rolled up with Noor, claiming his “mom” was so freaked about him flying alone that she decided to tag along. He'd probably say he kept it quiet to spare Simone the grief.

God, how stupid could she be? Stressing that he wouldn’t come looking for her.

After they were done, Houston Martinez zipped his fly and climbed out of the car. He lit a cigarette, then turned back and cocked an eyebrow. “What do you want from me?”

Simone lay curled up, not moving, her eyes fixed on nothing. “I want to marry you.”

Houston paused, taking a couple long drags before a smirk tugged at his lips. “Isn’t this way more fun?”

His answer made it crystal clear he had zero intention of putting a label on this, casually shooting down the idea of her getting any kind of official status.

Simone was sharp enough to read between the lines. She knew he called the shots—she couldn’t force his hand. She stood, cleaned herself up with a few tissues, and served Houston a sugary smile. “That’s fine. As long as I can be with you, I’ll take whatever.”

Houston didn’t like her degrading herself just to get under his skin. He saw right through her game but chose not to bite. “Get out.”

“Sure thing,” Simone said, stepping out. She pulled her underwear on right in front of him, dusted off her skirt with over-the-top nonchalance, and added with a tiny smirk, “Didn’t you say it was no big deal? ‘Cause it kinda seemed like you were enjoying yourself a whole lot.”

She didn’t wait for a comeback. Wrapping her coat around herself, she walked off without a single backward glance. Houston watched her go, totally intrigued.

Simone didn’t head back to the hotel. She made her way to an old cathedral instead—and, go figure, ran smack into Noor Miller.

Noor stood under the fluttering prayer flags, nursing two cups of coffee like she was waiting for someone without a care in the world. When she spotted Simone, a flicker of surprise sparked in her eyes before it vanished just as fast.

With practiced warmth, she cooed, “I was just telling Phoenix he should’ve brought you along. He said you weren’t feeling well, so he popped inside to grab you a charm for good health.”

That gentle, friendly smile was locked onto her face.

This wasn’t Simone’s first run-in with Noor, but it was the first time she fully grasped how drop-dead gorgeous she was—classy, elegant, with this magnetic, mature allure. Her long, wavy hair framed delicate features, and her curves were the kind that could stop traffic, the whole package a man could ask for. You’d never in a million years guess she was pushing forty.

How the hell did anyone not fall under her spell?

“Simone?” Noor jiggled the coffee cup, yanking Simone back to reality. “Phoenix went inside to pray.”

Simone’s gaze dropped to the cup in Noor’s hand—pumpkin spice, her freaking favorite. A bitter smile tugged at her lips. “So, you’re a pumpkin spice fan now, too?”

Noor let out a soft laugh, tapping the two cups together. “Not usually my vibe, but Phoenix insisted I give it a shot since you’re so obsessed with it. He was right—it’s pretty damn good. You’ve got killer taste, Simone.”

Inside, Simone’s disgust was thick enough to cut, but her face stayed poker straight. “Oh, really?”

They’d never spent a ton of time together—just a few meals Simone had forced to happen. Noor always played the role of the overeager future mother-in-law, hyping up Simone’s status every chance she got.

Simone used to peg Noor as a chronic people-pleaser, maybe even scared of pissing off Simone’s family, given her own decent background. But now? She saw it for what it was—a slick little tactic to slip into the background, making Simone lower her guard.

Haisley Gutierrez once pointed out that Noor had next-level emotional intelligence. If she wanted her bond with Phoenix to stay bulletproof, keeping things exactly like this was the safest bet. As long as the daughter-in-law never kicked up a fuss, Noor could always stay glued to his side.

Still beaming, Noor held out the nearly full cup in her left hand to Simone. “This one’s for Phoenix. He only took one sip—you might as well finish it. By the time he comes back out, it’ll be cold, and we’d hate to waste it.”

Simone didn’t take it.

Noor’s hand hung in the air a moment before she pulled it back, her smile finally slipping a notch. “Are you upset with Phoenix because of me?”