The Billionaire's Sixty-Day Wife

Chapter 8

Alejandro's POV

The second I see her standing near the ballroom entrance, my stomach tightens because Isabella Hart is the last person I expected to see tonight.

For a brief moment, she simply stares at me. Then her gaze shifts toward Camila, and although the shock disappears quickly, it doesn't disappear fast enough.

Camila notices it too.

"Oh, I know that look," Camila murmurs beside me, and when I glance at her, I find amusement dancing in her eyes. "That's the look of a woman who definitely wasn't expecting to find you married."

I look away.

Bad move.

Camila immediately catches it. "Oh my God." Her eyes widen. "You know her."

"Camila."

"No, no, wait." She points discreetly toward Isabella. "How do you know her?"

Before I can answer, Isabella starts walking toward us.

People notice.

Of course they notice.

Several reporters turn their heads. A few board members stop talking.

Even Victor looks interested.

The closer Isabella gets, the quieter the area becomes.

"Alejandro." A graceful smile appears on her face, but I know her well enough to see the tension under. "I wasn't told you were attending."

"Last minute decision."

Her eyes move toward Camila. "And this must be your wife."

Camila extends her hand. "Camila Reyes."

Isabella accepts it. "Isabella Hart."

The handshake lasts exactly two seconds.

Long enough.

"I've heard a lot about you," Isabella says smoothly.

Camila smiles. "Really? That's interesting because until tonight, I didn't even know you existed."

For a split second, Isabella looks surprised.

Then the smile returns. "Alejandro and I go way back."

"How far back?" Camila asks so quickly that I nearly close my eyes.

Isabella turns toward her. "Almost ten years."

"Wow." Camila nods thoughtfully. "That's a long time."

"It is."

The air between them suddenly feels sharper.

Neither woman is openly hostile. That's what makes it worse.

"Isabella sits on the board," I interrupt before either of them can continue.

Camila looks at me.

Isabella notices.

Neither looks impressed.

Wonderful.

The next half hour becomes increasingly painful.

Everywhere I go, Isabella somehow appears. Every conversation somehow includes her. Every topic somehow circles back to history.

History I no longer want to discuss.

At one point, an investor joins us.

"Alejandro, are you still planning that expansion project in Europe?"

Before I can answer, Isabella laughs softly. "He always says yes before checking the numbers."

The investor laughs.

Camila looks at me. "That's true?"

"No."

"It is." Isabella takes a sip of champagne. "He did it twice."

"Three times," a board member walking past adds before laughing.

Traitor.

Camila grins. "Good to know."

I suddenly understand why people leave countries.

A few minutes later, another guest approaches Camila and starts discussing healthcare funding.

To my surprise, the conversation quickly grows.

One guest becomes three, three become six.

Within minutes, several people are listening to Camila speak about emergency room shortages, patient care, and medical costs.

She's completely in her element.

Confident and passionate, the difference is obvious.

Most people at this gala talk because they enjoy hearing themselves.

Camila talks because she actually cares.

When she finishes, a small group applauds. The surprise on her face makes something strange settle inside my chest.

Pride.

Across the room, Isabella notices my reaction.

That doesn't escape me either.

Later, during the charity auction, I spot Victor watching us carefully.

His attention moves between Camila and me, then toward Isabella, then back again.

The expression on his face immediately puts me on guard.

Victor rarely watches anything without a reason and tonight he's watching everything.

By ten o'clock, the gala is finally winding down, with guests heading home, reporters packing up their equipment, and the once-crowded ballroom slowly beginning to empty.

Camila excuses herself to join several women from a healthcare foundation near the ballroom exit.

For the first time all evening, I'm alone.

However, Isabella chooses that exact moment to approach.

"I've been trying to get five minutes with you all night."

I already know where this conversation is heading.

"Then let's make it four."

Her laugh is brief. "You always did know how to make a woman feel special."

I don't smile, neither does she.

The silence stretches between us.

Then Isabella folds her arms. "Married?"

The single word comes out sounding almost confused.

"Yes."

She studies my face.

"I'm serious, Alejandro."

"So am I."

"No." She slowly shakes her head. "That's the thing. I don't think you are."

My patience immediately begins shrinking.

Dangerous territory. "Careful."

"Why?" Her eyebrows rise. "Because I'm asking questions?"

"Because you're making assumptions."

She takes a step closer.

Not enough to invade my space but enough to challenge it.

"You spent years avoiding relationships." I say nothing. "You hated public attention."

Still nothing. "You hated family expectations."

Unfortunately, she's right about all three. "So explain it."

"Explain what?"

"This." She gestures toward the ballroom. "You. Marriage, happiness. Any of it."

I slip both hands into my pockets because it's easier than admitting I don't have an answer.

"People change."

The response earns a laugh, not a happy one.

"Alejandro." She looks genuinely frustrated now. "People change. You don't."

That should annoy me instead, it makes me tired. Maybe because part of me used to believe the same thing.

Then Camila happened and suddenly I'm not so sure anymore.

Isabella notices my hesitation. The realization clearly unsettles her.

"I never thought you'd marry someone like her."

The words immediately irritate me more than they should.

"What exactly does that mean?"

Her eyes widen slightly. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

For the first time tonight, she doesn't answer immediately.

Eventually she exhales.

"I just....." Her voice softens. "I know you."

No, she knew me.

Past tense.

There's a difference.

"I think something about this marriage feels wrong."

Alarm immediately rings in my head.

I keep my expression neutral. Years of board meetings taught me how.

"You're imagining things."

"Am I?"

The certainty in her eyes tells me she doesn't believe me.

For several seconds, neither of us speaks. Then Isabella takes a slow step backward.

The distance feels significant.

Almost sad.

"Be careful, Alejandro." The seriousness in her voice makes me pay attention because she suddenly sounds less like a jealous woman and more like someone genuinely trying to warn me.

I frown. "About what?"

She glances toward the ballroom entrance.

Toward Camila, toward the crowd. Then back at me.

"Some secrets don't stay buried forever."

Before I can ask what that means, Isabella turns and walks away.