(Here is to 400 power stones. Thank you guys)

"I want to go home!" she demanded.

Winn sighed dramatically, as if he were the victim in the situation, pushed the door farther open. Ivy pressed herself deeper into the seat.

"I swear," he said, leaning in and sliding one arm under her thighs and the other behind her back, "you are made to test every damn ounce of patience in my body."

She squealed and grabbed at his neck. "Winn!"

He lifted her effortlessly. Ivy kicked, wriggled, slapped his shoulder, hissed curses under her breath, and he barely budged.

"Put me down!" she yelled.

"No," he said simply, adjusting her weight.

"Let go of me!" Ivy struggled, twisting in his arms.

Winn didn’t miss a step.

"Sweetie, you are not wearing any underwear. You keep struggling and my finger may slip in where you would like."

Ivy froze.

Completely.

Her entire body locked up so fast Winn actually huffed a laugh. She didn’t say another word until he pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. Only then did he finally set her down on her feet.

She turned—ready to give him a piece of her mind—but the words died on her tongue.

The living room had been transformed.

Electric candles glowed everywhere. Hundreds of roses decorated the room. The long dining table near the window was set.

He had done this.

For a moment, Ivy forgot she was angry.

Then the memory of being hauled over his shoulder came back, and she snapped out of it.

"You have to stop," she said, forcing steel into her voice and distracting herself by looking anywhere but at the softness in his eyes.

Winn stepped closer—just one slow step.

"You promised me you’d convince me we don’t belong together," he murmured. "I also want to convince you we do."

She swallowed. Hard. Her hands were shaking.

"Fine," she breathed. "How does this work?"

His lips kicked up. "First, let’s eat. I made it myself."

"The richest man in the city still cooks?"

"You heard about the inheritance, uhn?" Winn chuckled darkly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"How could I not?" Ivy said as she moved toward the table, pretending she didn’t feel his eyes burning a trail down her back. "It was the highlight of the news for a while."

"Well, I will cook for you whenever you want," Winn said, spooning pasta onto their plates.

"Just tonight will suffice, thank you," Ivy replied.

Both of them settled into an uneasy silence. The only sounds were the occasional clink of silverware.

Eventually, Winn disappeared into the kitchen again, returning a few minutes later with two bowls of ice cream he’d plucked from the freezer, setting them on the couch between them. He switched on the news, the drone of the anchor filling the room.

"Ugh, you’re still weird," Ivy said, plopping down beside him on the couch and reaching for one of the bowls. "Who watches the news while eating ice cream?"

"What? It’s relaxing," Winn argued, tilting his head to watch her reaction as he scooped a spoonful into his mouth. There was a teasing light in his eyes.

"Pshhhh," Ivy rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh as she dug into her bowl. The cold ice cream contrasted sharply with the warmth radiating from him.

Winn picked up the couch blanket and covered her legs with it to keep her warm.

"So... why do you not want to be with me anymore?" Winn asked finally.

"You are married," she said bluntly.

"Separated. Going through a messy divorce," Winn said, unconsciously scooping more ice cream into his mouth.

"I don’t want the drama," she said, shaking her head.

"You’re not sounding very convincing," he teased, the corner of his mouth curling into a mischievous grin. "You have to do better if you really want me to stop chasing after you."

"You hurt me," Ivy said. "It’s hard to explain... but you marrying another woman in a hair’s breadth was your way of saying, ’I didn’t matter.’" Her eyes glistened slightly, anger and heartbreak warring on her features.

Winn reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his hand lingering at her cheek. "Ivy... it wasn’t like that. You mattered. You still matter," he said quietly.

"I don’t know if I can believe that anymore," she muttered, looking away and fiddling with the edge of her bowl. Her heart was a tempest—angry, confused, and unwilling to admit how much she still wanted him.

"I got married because I was trapped. And I made it clear to her that whenever you show up, it would end. As a matter of fact, it was supposed to end after a month. I can show you the contract if you want."

A contract. Trust Winn Kane to turn even a marriage into paperwork and legal clauses. A part of Ivy wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the bigger part—her bruised, wounded heart—couldn’t find humor in anything tonight.

"I cannot love you anymore, Winn." She kept her gaze glued to the TV. "I just... can’t."

"You are going to have to look at me when you say that," Winn murmured.

He placed his half‑empty bowl of ice cream on the coffee table as if bracing himself for impact. Then he shifted, turning fully toward her, one knee brushing against her thigh. His presence at close range was overwhelming—warm, intense, infuriatingly alluring.

Slowly, she turned toward him.

She looked down at her ice cream instead, pretending to fiddle with the spoon. "I..."

Winn didn’t let her hide. He leaned in—close enough that his breath fanned over her cheek—and slid a finger under her chin. Gently. So gently she almost cried just from that softness alone.

He tilted her head up to face him.

"Ivy," he whispered.

Then he placed a finger on her lips.

Her breath stalled.

"You’re going to have to look directly at me," he said. "And say it. Because my heart depends on the truth in your eyes."