Trapped Between My Fiancé and My Ex

POV: Sophie Clark

"Keep your eyes on the lens, Sophie. Do not look at him."

"I am trying." My teeth struck together so hard the words came out broken. "Julian, I cannot feel my legs."

The October wind swept across Andrew's Brookline estate and cut through the soaked layers of my wedding gown. The pool water reached my chin. Beneath the surface, yards of silk wrapped around my calves like rope.

Julian Hayes stood behind a camera on the stone terrace. Seven years had sharpened him. His face was leaner, his shoulders broader, and the careless college photographer I remembered had vanished behind a professional mask.

"Tilt your chin," he said.

I obeyed because Andrew's entire staff was watching.

Andrew paced along the pool's edge with a phone pressed to his ear. "David, push the merger through. I do not care what the board wants. We close by Friday."

"Andrew." I tightened my grip on the coping. "The dress is pulling me down."

He lifted one finger without looking at me. Wait.

"I need to get out."

"Two more minutes," he said, still listening to the call. "The light is perfect."

Julian lowered the camera. "She is done."

Andrew covered the phone. "I hired you to take pictures, not manage my bride."

"I cannot get a usable shot while she is shaking."

"Then tell her to stop shaking."

The crew went silent. A stylist stared at the ground. No one wanted to challenge Andrew Miller on his own property.

I tried to push away from the wall, but the skirt twisted around my ankles. Water rushed over my mouth. I swallowed chlorine and clawed for the edge.

"Sophie?" Julian's voice changed.

My fingers slipped.

The blue water closed over my head.

For one terrible second, the pool became the rain-slicked highway from seven years ago. Headlights spun across a windshield. Metal screamed. Blood warmed the front of my dress while I begged a paramedic to save my baby.

I kicked, but the gown held me under. My lungs burned. Light fractured above me, close enough to see and too far to reach.

A dark shape broke the surface.

Julian's arm locked around my waist. He tore at the fabric around my legs, dragged me upward, and shoved my face into the cold air.

I coughed against his shoulder.

"I have you," he said.

The words were too familiar. He had whispered them in our first apartment when thunder shook the windows. He had said them the night I told him I was pregnant.

His boots hit the pool steps. He carried me out, one arm under my knees, while water streamed from both of us.

Andrew finally ended his call.

"Put her down," he said.

Julian ignored him. He lowered me onto a chaise and dropped to one knee. "Sophie, look at me."

I coughed until my ribs hurt. Someone wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. Julian brushed wet hair away from my mouth with shaking fingers.

"Can you breathe?"

I nodded.

"Say it."

"I can breathe."

His eyes closed for half a second. Relief crossed his face before anger buried it.

Andrew crouched beside us. He placed one polished hand on my shoulder, claiming the space Julian had opened.

"She is fine," Andrew said. "Sophie has always been dramatic around water."

Julian rose slowly. "Her dress caught on the drain cover. Another thirty seconds and she would not have been fine."

Andrew smiled without warmth. "Yet you rescued her. How heroic."

"The shoot is over."

"The shoot ends when I say it ends."

Julian looked past him to me. Water dripped from his hair onto the stone. "Do you want to continue?"

No one had asked what I wanted all morning.

Andrew's thumb pressed into the base of my neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark. Hard enough to remind me that my father's company survived because Andrew's money kept its credit line open.

"We should finish," I said.

Julian's jaw tightened. "You almost drowned."

"I said I can continue."

The lie tasted like chlorine.

Andrew stood and offered me his hand. "That is my girl."

I did not take it. My legs trembled too badly to stand.

Julian saw. He bent, gathered the soaked skirt, and freed a torn length of silk still wound around my ankle. His knuckles brushed an old scar above my heel, the one the crash had left.

He froze.

I pulled my foot away.

"Do not touch her," Andrew said.

Julian straightened. "Then take care of her."

The crew began packing equipment. Andrew watched them with growing irritation.

"We lost the cover shot," he said.

"You nearly lost the bride," Julian replied.

Andrew's expression went still. That was always worse than anger.

He turned to the producer. "Move the interior session to tomorrow. I want the old warehouse set, full crew, no cancellations."

Then he looked at Julian. "And I want every frame from today. Especially the rescue."

Julian's face hardened. "I did not shoot it."

"The second camera did."

An assistant near the lighting rig lowered his gaze. The producer quietly removed a memory card and closed it in her fist, but Andrew noticed. He held out his hand until she surrendered it.

Julian took one step toward him. I caught the front of Julian's wet shirt before he could close the distance. The contact shocked both of us. His heartbeat hammered beneath my palm, as wild as mine.

"Do not," I whispered.

His eyes dropped to my fingers. I let go at once.

Andrew smiled. "A drowning bride saved by the man hired to photograph her. The magazine will love the story."

My stomach turned.

Julian stepped close enough that only Andrew and I could hear him. "Use that footage, and I walk."

"You signed a contract."

"Sue me."

For the first time, Andrew's smile became real.

"I was hoping you would say that."

He guided me toward the house with one hand at my waist. As we passed Julian, my wet fingers brushed the pocket of my robe.

My phone vibrated inside it.

I waited until Andrew looked away, then glanced at the screen.

A message from the number I had deleted seven years ago filled the display.

Why did you let him leave you in the water?