The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 4

Mia's POV

Jeo was already there when I arrived at the quiet café downtown, and he stood when he saw me — dark hair stylishly messy, blue eyes as kind as I remembered — and pulled me into a gentle hug. I stiffened for half a second it had been long since anyone had held me like this.

"Mia Williams," he said. "Still as beautiful as ever."

"You look good too, Jeo."

"I ordered you hot chocolate instead of coffee," he said as we sat down. "You never could stomach coffee in the morning."

I stared at the cup. Steam rose from it in a thin ribbon, and my throat closed around nothing.

"Hey." Jeo's voice softened. "You okay?"

"It's the hot chocolate," I said, and laughed wetly. "It's very moving hot chocolate."

He had the good grace not to press. Instead he spread the sketches across the table — the Havers project, a luxury boutique hotel, modern but organic, flowing lines and natural light — and somewhere in the second minute of talking, I forgot to be sad. My hands started moving on their own. "You could integrate the existing architecture with bio-mimetic design elements," I heard myself say. "Keep the old brick facade as a contrast to curved glass — and the central atrium could carry a sculptural staircase, with water features that throw light patterns through the whole space as the sun moves—"

I stopped. Jeo was grinning at me.

"What?"

"There she is," he said quietly. "The girl who painted that mural in the university hall. I was starting to think K.T. Enterprises had filed her away somewhere."

It had, I thought.  "Jeo, it's been years since I've drawn anything—"

"Mia."

That voice. My spine knew it before my mind did — three years of training, the body snapping to attention. Kyle stood at our table in a crisp black suit, rain glittering on his shoulders, his expression carved from stone. How he'd found me, I didn't ask. Kyle Branson found whatever he wanted found.

Jeo rose, extending his hand, easy and unbothered. "Kyle Branson? Jeo Parker. I went to college with Mia."

Kyle ignored the hand. His eyes never left me. "A word, Mia."

I had to breathe before I stood.

Outside, the awning dripped rain between us and the street. His hand closed on my elbow, burning through my sleeve.

"Who is he?"

"An old friend."

"Friends don't look at each other that way." His voice was low, dangerous. "You quit this morning. You slapped Taylor, you quit, you disappeared — and now I find you here, with him. What is this, Mia? What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Having hot chocolate," I said. "And discussing a job."

"You have a job."

"I quit that job. You were there. You were holding her at the time — perhaps it slipped your attention."

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