When my husband developed mind-reading

The second the car rolled to a stop, Malcolm unclipped his seatbelt in a flash, threw open the door, and marched straight for Yara like he had a mission.

I stayed put in the passenger seat, comfortable as can be, watching his urgent strides in the side mirror and shaking my head in amused disbelief.

That’s the unarguable magic the heroine has over the hero, isn’t it?

I’d been scanning the sidewalk myself, dead set on spotting Yara first. But somehow, Malcolm’d picked her out of the crowd of cars and pedestrians before I even had. Makes you wonder if there’s some invisible magnetic pull between those two—otherwise, finding her on this chaotic, packed street would’ve been damn near impossible.

In this story, Yara’s an orphan who worked her ass off to claw her way into a position at Malcolm’s company. She put in endless hours, and over time, she fell hard for her boss. Then she found out Malcolm’s kindness only existed because she looked exactly like someone he’d loved and lost. Heartbroken, she couldn’t bear to keep working there, so she handed in her resignation.

Malcolm begged and pleaded for her to stay, but Yara wouldn’t budge. After leaving her letter on his desk, she headed back to her tiny rented apartment. But when it rains, it pours—she just lost her job, and then her landlord kicked her out over some personal nonsense. No lease, no compensation, and he didn’t even give her time to hunt for a new place. So there she was, dragging her suitcase behind her, wandering the streets alone.

Funny thing is, I’d dragged Malcolm out for dinner that night, and we just stumbled right into her. And Malcolm? Couldn’t have cared less that his fiancée was still sitting in the car waiting for him. He swept Yara right up and was dead set on taking her straight to his place.

Curious as hell, I watched them from the passenger seat through the mirror. They looked stunning together, perfect for each other. Nothing like me—the so-called villain who could never hold a candle to her.

Sensing the timing couldn’t have been more perfect, I smoothed out my expression, getting ready to put on my big performance: wronged, indignant, furious. Showtime.

I pushed open the door and marched straight toward them, fake outrage burning in my steps.

“Malcolm, what the hell are you two doing?”

When she saw me, Yara yanks her hand out of his grip so fast, eyes dropping to the concrete, lips pressed tight. Malcolm’s face went stony, and he glares at me hard enough to cut glass.

Wait, did I know Yara’d be here? Was I somehow behind the eviction? I remembered—Pearl Apartments are owned by the Dunn family, and that’s exactly where Yara was living…

I stepped closer, ready to play my part, but Malcolm’s sharp, icy gaze threw me off for half a second.

[What’s his problem? I didn’t do anything wrong! Why’s he staring at me like I kicked his puppy?]

Malcolm shifted his focus back to Yara, softening his tone. “Yara, it’s late. Come with me. This is for your own good.”

My outer expression flared with fake anger, but inside I was screaming:

[Yes! Exactly that! Hurry up, take her back, cook her dinner, let this thing finally bloom between you two!]

But out loud I snapped, “Malcolm, what are you talking about? You’re taking this shameless woman to your house? I won’t let you get away with this!”

Malcolm frowned, clearly confused by how over the top I was being.

“No thank you, Malcolm,” Yara murmured, rubbing the faint red mark his grip left on her wrist, glancing at me warily. “I don’t want to be a bother. I… I already found a place to stay.”

[She’s lying. She hasn’t found jack. She’s gonna end up sleeping on the sidewalk tonight if you let her go!]

Malcolm just stared, quiet.

He glanced at my red-faced, visibly angry act, then spoke in that soft, steady way he does. “It’s no trouble. You can stay with me until you get back on your feet.”

“Malcolm!” I clutched my chest like my heart just broke, all wide-eyed disbelief. “How could you do this to me? Did you forget what you promised Mom?”

He’d promised Mom he’d take good care of me, after all. A wave of that stupid obligation washed over him, and his frown deepened. Yeah, it was wrong to bring another woman home when he was engaged to me—but he couldn’t just leave Yara out on the street, could he?

“I won’t let you down,” Malcolm said, all serious. “But Yara was my secretary. It’s my job to make sure she’s okay.”

The meaning was clear as day: he was going to fix her problem, no matter what.

I clenched my fists, my eyes sparkling under my fake scowl:

[Let me down! It’s totally fine! I don’t care! Just be good to Yara, that’s all that matters!]

[Aaah, my OTP is finally getting together! This is everything I’ve ever wanted!]

Malcolm just blinked, confused as hell. Wait—she’s shipping me with Yara?

Even with my internal screaming of joy, I kept my wronged act going full force. “Malcolm, Yara resigned! She’s not your employee anymore. Why do you have to be this nice to her?”

Malcolm’s eyes dropped to my fists, crumpling the fabric of my dress. He paused a second, then said firmly, “I never accepted her resignation. She’s still my secretary.”

“Malcolm!” I stomped my foot, fake frustration bleeding into my raised voice. “I’m your fiancée! You’re really going to let another woman stay at your place when I’m right here?”

[Yes! That’s perfect, keep going! Just take her back already!]

Malcolm went quiet again. This woman says one thing to my face and means the exact opposite. What is going on with her?

He lifted his head, that dark, intense gaze pinning me in place.

[What are you waiting for? Just go already! Do I have to spell every single step out for you?]

He turned away, jaw set in a hard line, and led a quiet Yara back toward the car.

“Malcolm,” I tugged on his arm, my face set in stubborn lines with just a hint of fake pleading. “I won’t let you take her.”

He looked down at me, at my bright eyes all wide and pleading, and for a split second he felt a twinge of reluctance. Maybe he should just put Yara up in a hotel instead, he thought.

He paused, opening his mouth to suggest just that, when he’d have heard my internal cheer:

[A real man doesn’t hold back! If you love her, take her home, show the whole world she’s the one for you!]

Malcolm went quiet.

He immediately tossed that hotel idea right out the window.

Keeping his stony expression, he shook my hand off his arm, and led a silent Yara straight to the car.

“Malcolm…”

My voice trailed off after him, all weak and wronged, and Malcolm paused.

[You two hurry up and go already! I don’t wanna miss my dinner rolls—that place gets packed, remember?]

Malcolm’s gaze swept over me, cold as ice, and I froze, confused for a second what I’d done wrong. He just climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled off with Yara before I could say another word.

I pouted, still confused about that last look he gave me.

Come on. I’m over here playing the bad guy just to get my favorite couple together. The least they could do is be grateful, right?