Page 84 of Dream Chaser

Thankfully, Election Day was a busy one—I’d spent all morning preparing a pitch deck for Solara Atelier, a Spanish designer eyewear brand that could become one of Asher’s sponsors. Alejandro and I would meet them in Valencia in a few weeks.

Once work was over, I drove to a mall. Even though I’d keep seeing Asher’s physical therapist for at least a few months, he’d given me a set of exercises to help strengthen my back at home between sessions. That meant I needed to buy resistance bands apart from new clothes and a suitcase for the trip.

Being swamped helped—I’d managed to avoid the news all day. Nothing would ruin my mood more than knowing that Preston had won. I was positive he would—because of his father, and because nobody knew the real him.

As I entered my apartment in the evening, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I dropped the shopping bags by the front door and pulled it out.

A text from Donna with an article from the town’s newspaper glared at me from the screen. Of course, she’d want to rub Preston’s victory in my face.

I clicked on the link. As I skimmed it, my knees grew weak.

Nathan Jennings leads the Mayoral race, holding 85% of the votes so far. With a lead like that, it doesn’t look like Preston Marshall will be following in his father’s footsteps.

Although the results were preliminary, there was no way Preston would gain enough votes to get ahead of his rival.

He lost? A smile broke free. That was exactly what he deserved, but worry replaced the joy, and my stomach clenched. Donna was already blaming me. I knew Preston too well to believe he wouldn’t make me pay for this.

What did it mean for me? For my divorce?

Another text from Donna came through.

Just four words— This is your fault.

It wasn’t, and I was sick of her accusations.

Blowing out a breath, I deleted her message and blocked her number.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Alejandro

November

The plane’s engine hummed outside the window. Nova and I had been flying for an hour, and I hated each of those quiet sixty minutes. The distance between us, her careful politeness, the strained smiles—all of it chipped away at my resolve to be professional.

I didn’t want to spend our days in Spain like this—her minding her business while I wondered whether refusing to take advantage of an employee meant depriving myself of happiness.

Nova shifted in her seat, focused as she retouched pictures on her laptop. With a sigh, I opened my book, even though I’d much rather talk to her.

A few more minutes passed.

“What are you reading?” her quiet question injected hope into my gloomy thoughts.

“A thriller,” I said, sliding a bookmark between the pages.

“Got tired of business books?”

I arched a brow.

“I saw the stack sitting on your coffee table.” Nova pushed a strand behind her ear, her cheeks taking on a familiar pink hue. “Most were books on business and biographies.”

I closed the paperback. “Do you like reading?”

“I do.” She angled toward me. “I’m a bit jealous. Must be nice to read in several languages. You never told me how you learned English.”

“In my first company,” I said.

“You mean your agency in Spain?”