Accidental Brides Book 2: Draco's wife
Author
Mira Matic
Reads
18.7K
Chapters
20
Jade came with an anniversary cake. She left with a broken heart. A pair of heels. Two wine glasses. One husband who swears she has it all wrong. But Jade is done being the perfect wife. Secrets. Desire. Betrayal. Three children. One marriage about to explode.
Would YOU forgive him?
Chapter 1: The Mistake
JADE
“Lily?” I closed my eyes and pressed the phone to my ear.
“You sound like you didn’t call just to check on me,” she answered flatly.
She was right. This was one of the few free days she had this month, and I was about to ruin it.
“I need a favor.”
She paused. “The kids kind of favor?”
I scrunched my nose, knowing she wouldn’t be happy about it. “I need you to watch them. Just for a few hours.”
“No.” Her quick refusal stung, even though I saw it coming. Lily cared about my children; she loved them in her way, especially Hellena, but she viewed motherhood as a dull, overstimulating trap. Watching me manage my family definitely didn’t help change her mind.
“Please.” I leaned against the hallway wall. “I forgot what date it was and told the nanny she could have three days off.” My fingers picked at a loose thread on my sweatpants. “She and her boyfriend planned a hiking trip. I can’t ruin it.”
Lily snorted. “Maybe I had plans?”
“Do you?”
“No. But the plan was to have no plan.”
I bit my lip not to smile. Typical Lily. Hard on the outside, soft as a marshmallow on the inside. At least with me.
“Please?” I tried again. “You know Hellena turns to mush when she sees you.”
I heard the crunch of whatever she was eating. “What important date did you forget?”
I took a deep breath, tempted to lie and avoid another lecture. Lily had never been Ivan’s biggest fan. Lately, she’d been worse—quiet instead of snarky. The small comments she used to make when I mentioned his name no longer appeared.
Instead, she simply shut down, and that silence was more unsettling than her jokes. I didn’t ask why. Ivan had a crazy-busy schedule lately, busier than before, and Lily’s boyfriend worked as Ivan’s bodyguard, right-hand man, and best friend. I assumed she missed her guy the same way I missed my husband. That’s why I needed her to save me today.
“A wedding anniversary,” I said at last.
She fell silent, then let out a sharp breath. “Of what? The circus he called a wedding?”
I sank onto the stairs as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I hadn’t eaten since noon yesterday. It was one thing to feel like your life had changed and you couldn’t pinpoint when or how. It was another to hear it from someone else.
“Fine, I’ll find someone.” I pulled the phone away. Just before I hit the red button, she exhaled loudly, the sound of defeat.
“Bring them. But don’t expect me to breastfeed your baby.”
“God forbid.” I scrunched my nose and turned to the boys on the staircase, giving them a thumbs-up. Their faces lit up; they knew Aunt Lily meant sweets and unlimited video games.
“I still think you should stop breastfeeding the baby with teeth,” Lily muttered.
I smiled. Another well-meaning piece of advice no one asked for.
“I’ll think about it,” I mumbled, the corner of my mouth twitching. “And Lily…thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah…” She hung up.
I scooped up the kids and herded them into the car. By the time I pulled into Lily’s driveway, she was already outside, arms crossed, watching me like she’d rather shake me than hug me. We were always the kind of friends who enjoyed a good, slightly rough word-sparring from time to time, but this was different. This looked like real anger.
I wasn’t a fool; I felt that things were rough lately. I just didn’t know how to change them, so I went with the flow, postponing my own needs, because what was there to wish for that I didn’t already have? Healthy children. A job. Friends who cared. Wishing for more would make me ungrateful.
“What are you wearing?” Her eyes swept over my oversized designer hoodie and baggy pants.
“What? Why?”
“You look like a homeless woman.”
I bit my lip. To someone like Lily, anything less than haute couture looked like that. Even when she didn’t have money, she knew how to make her clothes look expensive and high-class. That talent made her rich and had once saved us when we needed it most.
“I look like any other mom.” I checked my clothes as if I didn’t know what I put on this morning.
“Exactly.” She met my eyes, and I realized she wasn’t just annoyed. She was furious.
“I bet you’d rather take your kids with you and have them in your lap during a romantic anniversary, or whatever you planned for Ivan,” she snapped. “God forbid you leave them for a day.”
She wasn’t wrong. I would. Ivan wouldn’t mind; he adored the kids. Especially after having such a hard time at work lately and not spending enough time with them.
“Where is he now?” Lily asked sharply.
“In the office.”
“Uh-huh.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I unbuckled Hellena and handed her over, along with the oversized bag stuffed with essentials. “Boys, be good. Don’t make Aunt Lily regret being nice.” I kissed their foreheads before sliding back into the driver’s seat.
The plan was simple. Maybe naive. Ivan had flown back in the early hours and had gone straight to the office to avoid waking us. He did that often lately. The cake I’d bought on the way here sat boxed on the passenger seat, its sugar-sweet smell thick in the car.
Under the elegant box, a corner of paper peeked out: university brochures I’d printed and gone over again and again over the last couple of months. When I let myself dream, I imagined going to college, doing something I always wanted.
But today, it wasn’t about that girl. Not about college, or what I wished for. Today, it had to be about us. I felt that urgency inside me to be close to him. That he needed me.
I slid the cake so it fully covered the papers. Just seeing them made my stomach churn. No kids. Not the outside world. Just us for a couple of stolen hours. It had been too long since we’d had a moment alone.
I drove toward the tallest building in the center of our small Mediterranean town. My car tag let me into the underground garage, and I took the elevator to the top floor, the cake box heavy and awkward in my arms.
For a second, I wondered if he’d changed the code in his office apartment. It had been too long since I’d come here. The light turned green. The lock clicked. I stepped inside and, for no sane reason, felt like an intruder.
It didn’t look how I expected. And I didn’t expect anything more than my tired husband asleep in the private space he’d connected to his office.
But I got more. Much more.
I blinked once, then twice. The scene stayed. A half-empty wine bottle on the table. Two glasses beside it. One still had a tiny smear of red near the rim. My gaze jerked away as my mind started to cotton-wrap the moment, trying to pad it, soften it, find excuses.
Then I saw them: two neatly placed black high heels by the couch, pointed toward the bedroom like they were waiting for their owner to step back into them. Instinctively, my hand drifted to my stomach, as if I could hold that sharp, tearing pain in place.
The air smelled wrong, like female perfume and stale wine. Sweat started to gather at the back of my neck.
My phone started ringing somewhere deep in my bag, shrill and insistent. I didn’t reach for it. I stared down the hallway toward the bedroom, as if an invisible rope were looping around my waist, pulling me forward.
The door opened. It was like watching a car accident in slow motion. You know how ugly it’s going to be, but you can’t look away.
Ivan walked out. For one wild second, my heart leapt at the familiar sight: my husband in an intimate, domestic moment.
Except it wasn’t.
He had a towel in his hand, rubbing it through his hair. His shirt was half buttoned, crooked, and his belt hung loose at his hips. His eyes were bruised and red from the night before. The sight knocked the air out of my lungs. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
He froze, mid-step, as he saw me. “Jade.”
We stood there, both of us caught in a moment that felt stretched too wide, as if it would snap. He almost smiled at first, seeing my face, out of habit, maybe, but then whatever he saw on my face made his lips flatten and his brow pull tight.
His eyes darted around the room—the bottle, the glasses, the shoes—like he was seeing it for the first time, like he didn’t know why those things were there or who had a party.
The phone kept ringing, shrill and distant. I backed away.
He moved forward, hand stretching out to catch mine. I had never moved that fast away from him. Ever.
“Jesus, Jade, just wait,” he said, my name breaking on his tongue, desperation scraping his voice raw. “It’s not what you… Come on, this is a mistake.”
He dropped the towel, and that small, soft sound on the floor snapped something inside me. I spun around, found the handle, and ran. My lungs burned, and the hallway became a blur. My eyes stung, but no tears came yet. Just heat, pressure, like my skull was too small.
It was a mistake to come here, I thought in a frenzy.
My whole life tilted sideways, as if it were one big ugly mistake.
