Page 13 of The Temporary Bride

I scroll down, going through his pictures. In plenty of them, he’s dressed up for events, many of them black tie. He looks effortlessly handsome. Confident. Like a god walking among mere mortals. Like he knows it too. He draws the eye in every group photo, and every time I look at his smirk, I can’t help but feel rattled. God, he’s so smug.

There are pictures of him at some charity gala, posing alongside his brothers. Pictures of him surfing, a look of concentration on his face as he navigates frothing waves that glisten in the sun. His hair is wet, slicked back from his face. He’s grinning, but it’s not the careful, professional smile I’ve seen before.

This is a wilder look. Intense.

I didn’t know he surfed. To be honest, I didn’t know that he did anything except schmooze and grate on my nerves.

I keep scrolling through his feed, frowning as I try to piece all of these pictures together like I’m solving the puzzle of Tristan Thorne. Then, most of the way down, I stop.

I’m deep in the past now, years ago. His feed from this time is dominated by photos of him standing beside an absolutely gorgeous woman.

She’s tall, only a few inches shorter than he is, and has the build of a model—narrow, her shape elegant and willowy. Her eyes are alluring. In every image, she’s dressed to perfection.

His hand is on her shoulder. His arm is around her waist. They’re a couple.

A spike of something almost like jealousy rises in me. I check the tags on the posts to find her name. Iris Burnham. Whoever she is, she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.

Prettier than you, a voice in my head tells me. I swallow hard, trying to push down the wave of envy and hurt.

I take a deep breath, glaring at the screen in confusion. Ostensibly, I shouldn’t give a shit if I see some old photo of Tristan with an old flame—if this really is an old relationship rather than an ongoing one that I don’t know about yet.

I tell myself that it’s just the wedding arrangement. I don’t want an affair to sully my reputation. It would be embarrassing, being married to a man who sleeps with other women on the side.

That’s not it, though. That rationale doesn’t quite cover the extent of my emotion. Even if this is an ex, and even if she doesn’t threaten my professional standing… I don’t like seeing her arms around his shoulders.

I don’t like seeing his hand on her waist.

Before I can get any deeper into this rabbit hole, a voice—a real one—grabs my attention.

“Chloe? You busy?”

It’s my sister, Genevieve. I quickly close out of the tabs, shutting my laptop and setting it aside for good measure. The last thing I need is for Genevieve to know I was stalking my future husband online. I’d never hear the end of it.

“No,” I say. “Not busy. What’s up?”

Genevieve, hovering in the doorway, smiles. She’s one of the few people in this building with keycard access to this office. She didn’t need to alert me to her presence, but I’m glad she did.

She flounces across the room and plops down on the couch a few feet from my desk, putting her heels up on my glass coffee table. Rather than chastise her, I just roll my eyes. I’m used to this sort of behavior from her.

“So, how are you doing?” Genevieve asks, reaching to pluck a mint out of the bowl I keep on a side table.

I scoff. “How do you think?”

Genevieve chuckles, then pops the mint into her mouth. Her voice is muffled by it as she says, “Oh, come on. It’s really not all that bad.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting married off like we’re in the Middle Ages, or something.”

“At least he’s hot,” she points out.

My stomach flutters at the comment. I don’t respond, turning my attention to the window.

“In all seriousness, it shouldn’t come as a huge surprise,” Genevieve sighs. “Family obligations, and all that.”

I hum in quiet agreement. “MediaSphere needs it.”

My sister nods reluctantly. “I wonder if the old man even knows he threw us a life preserver.”

Despite what I said to Tristan at the gala, MediaSphere has been struggling in recent years to keep up with Thorne Enterprises. We weren’t about to sink, as Genevieve suggested, but it was taking everything we had to stay afloat. When Tristan told me about Thorne’s upcoming expansion, it struck me as a serious threat.