CHAPTER 153: WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

He had loved Ivy. She’d been his calm and his storm all at once. He remembered the curve of her smile, the warmth of her body, the way she used to trace circles on his skin.

Winn lifted his head slowly. "The one piece of happiness I thought I deserved," he murmured, staring at her porch light. "Just that little slice of heaven. But you couldn’t stand me either, huh?"

He wasn’t angry at her—he never could be. He was angry at himself for being his father’s son, for not knowing how to love, for scaring her away.

Where did he go wrong? They were happy, weren’t they? Or at least, he had thought they were.

She loved him. Of that, Winn had no doubt. No one could fake that kind of devotion. He remembered the first time she said it. And she gave herself to him—completely, vulnerably. Her first time. He still remembered how he had made it about her.

He had told her then, bluntly, cruelly even, that their marriage was a business move—a façade to strengthen investor confidence.

She had loved him before he even realised he loved her. Winn scoffed bitterly at that irony. She saw the man, the broken boy. And he, in his arrogance, hadn’t realised that he had loved her all along—until she was gone.

So where had he gone wrong? Maybe it wasn’t one thing. Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was him. The part of him that mirrored Tom Kane—the cold precision, the emotional distance, the instinct to control everything, even love. Was it that? Was there too much of his father in him for Ivy to bear? The thought made his jaw tighten.

The idea that the same darkness that poisoned his family could have poisoned his love—their love—was unbearable. "Maybe I’m just too damn broken," he muttered. "Maybe love’s not enough for people like me."

He thought about the early days—how he’d treated her, how he had mocked her gentle optimism, and how he’d kept his affection behind walls of sex. He had waited too long. He never realised that silence, too, can kill love. And maybe by the time he told her he loved her, she’d already bled too much from his indifference.

"What is it about me that’s never enough for women?" he whispered. Irene had left him for someone more stable. Ivy, though—losing her was different. It was devastation. With Irene, he had felt bruised ego.

If he was being honest with himself—and tonight, honesty was all he had left—Ivy’s heartbreak had shattered him a million times more than Irene’s.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Maybe this was karma.

He started the car engine, the soft purr of the motor drowning out the hollow ache in his chest. He took one last look at her house—at the wilted flowers, at the faint shadow of curtains drawn tightly shut. He pressed down on the accelerator and drove off into the empty night.

He didn’t even realise where he was headed until he parked in front of Sharona’s place. His pulse ticked faster. He took the elevator to the penthouse and pressed the doorbell. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and there she stood.

"Winn!" Sharona gasped, gripping the edge of the door. "W...what are you doing here?"

He stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame as if holding himself up. His jaw tightened. "Marry me."

Sharona blinked once, twice, then tilted her head. "Excuse me!!!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide before narrowing. She stepped back, crossing her arms. "Either you’ve lost your mind, or this is your very late attempt at romance."

"This weekend," Winn said. "I need a wife. Immediately. Or I’m screwed."

Sharona stared at him. "Well," she purred, stepping aside. "In that case, come in, Mr. Kane. Let’s talk about this insane proposal of yours."

He brushed past her. Behind him, Sharona smirked to herself. The cat is in the bag, she thought. Winn Kane was desperate enough to come crawling to her. This was going to be fun.

Winn didn’t bother to sit. He stood near the fireplace, his broad shoulders tense, eyes fixed on nothing. "I need to save House of Kane," he began. "The investors have pulled out. Completely. I already invested most of our liquid assets into securing the mall property. If I don’t act fast, we’ll lose everything."

He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his damp hair. "I need the will read. And for that, I need a wife. A legitimate, documented marriage."

Sharona leaned against the arm of her sofa, legs crossed, eyes glinting with interest. "So you thought of me?" she teased. "Should I be flattered or deeply concerned?"

He met her gaze. "You’re the only woman I know who can compartmentalise. You know the game."

Her brow arched, her lips curling in amusement. "Flattery from Winn Kane? Careful, I might start thinking you like me."

He ignored the jab. "This is purely transactional, Sharona," he said. "No sex. No emotional entanglements. You live your life, I live mine. I don’t give a damn what you do in your spare time, and you shouldn’t care about mine."

Sharona rose slowly, walking toward him. "No sex?" she echoed, stopping inches away. "You’re asking me to marry you, but you’re forbidding sex? Aww....we were explosive last time we were together."

"I’m serious, Sharona."

"Hmmm..." Sharona purred. "You still think Ivy is going to come back, don’t you?"

"Yes," he said simply.

Sharona tilted her head, studying him the way a gambler studies a losing hand. "And when she does?" she asked, lifting her brow. "What then, Winn? You’ll dump me like a used tissue and run back into her arms?" She smiled as if joking.

"Because if I’m going to be Mrs. Kane, I’d like to know whether it’s temporary insanity or long-term delusion."

Winn turned to her finally. "Listen," he began. "I will give you twenty percent of whatever I get from the Orchard fortune. I just need you to be my wife this weekend—briefly, legally, no questions asked." He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You’re a businesswoman, Sharona. You understand the predicament I’m in."

(Latronya Andrews, Amanda Gibson : You have queen for a day.)