You sit beside Drew, fingers intertwined with his as you both look over the blueprints spread across the glossy conference table. The architect, a woman in her mid-thirties with perfectly manicured nails and a little too much enthusiasm for your liking, is leaning far too close to Drew. Every few moments, she touches his arm, laughing a little too sweetly at things that aren’t remotely funny.

You notice everything. The way her fingers linger, the way she bites her lip while explaining the open-concept design, and most of all—the way Drew is completely oblivious to it.

“So, Mr. Starkey,” she purrs, pressing her palm against his forearm. “I think you’ll love the master suite layout. I designed it with someone exactly like you in mind.”

Your eye twitches. Exactly like him? You’re right here. Mrs. Starkey. His wife.

Drew, still blissfully unaware, hums in agreement, flipping through the pages. “Yeah, it looks great.”

You inhale sharply, forcing a smile. “It does,” you agree, voice a little too sweet. “But I think my husband and I should discuss a few details privately.”

Drew glances up, confused but nodding. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back—just need to grab a water.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple before stepping out of the room.

The moment he’s gone, you turn to the architect, your smile sharpening. “Listen,” you say, voice low and steady. “I don’t know if this is your usual sales tactic, but I’m gonna need you to keep your hands to yourself.”

She blinks, feigning innocence. “Oh! I didn’t mean anything by—”

You tilt your head, your own manicured fingers drumming against the table. “Right. So if you didn’t mean anything, you won’t mind keeping it professional from now on, yeah?”

Her smile falters for half a second before she nods. “Of course, Mrs. Starkey.”

“That’s what I thought.” You lean back just as Drew walks back in, completely unaware of the silent war that just took place.

You flash him a sweet smile, gripping his hand a little tighter as he sits back down. He frowns slightly.