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Three years ago Jarod Reardon chose somebody else. Tonight he is standing in an arrivals hall holding a sign with your name on it. He laughs when you tell him the sign is for you. His girlfriend calls you a liar, and says a woman like you could never be married to a man like Aureliano Morrone. They refuse to let you into the car. They mock the wedding ring on your hand. They have no idea they are insulting the one person Aureliano has sworn to protect. And Aureliano never forgives disrespect toward his wife.
The automatic doors slid apart. Passengers poured out into the evening crowd. Businessmen. Families. Tourists. Jarod barely looked up. His attention stayed on the name lettered across the black pickup sign resting against his leg. MRS. MORRONE One of the company’s biggest clients. He expected security. Designer luggage. Someone impossible to miss. Instead… A familiar voice stopped at his side. “Hi, Jarod.” His head lifted. The colour drained out of his face. “…you?” Three years. Three years since you’d boarded a plane to Italy. Three years since he’d watched you disappear from his life. You looked exactly like the woman he remembered… Only quieter. More composed. Like whatever you’d found overseas had finally given you peace. His girlfriend glanced between them. “You know her?” Jarod couldn’t stop staring. “Yeah.” A long pause. “We used to date.” His girlfriend’s expression changed at once. She looked you over from head to toe before letting out a quiet laugh. “What are the chances?” Your eyes shifted toward the sign in his hand. “I think you’re here for me.” Jarod looked down. Then back at you. A slow smile spread across his face. “…Cute.” “Excuse me?” “Mrs. Morrone?” He chuckled. “You really expect me to believe that.”