The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 175

**Mia's POV**

Thomas is really here.

My goodness, we haven't seen each other since we got back from Paris.

He's dressed casually but expensively in dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that highlights his athletic build. His dark blonde hair is slightly windblown, and he's wearing sunglasses despite the overcast day—probably an attempt at discretion.

"I told you," Javier murmurs, gesturing toward Thomas. "Your security detail verified his identity but wouldn't let him enter the site without your permission."

I sigh, unsure whether to be touched by Thomas's unexpected appearance or annoyed at yet another complication in an already chaotic day.

"Thank you for everything, Javier," I say, handing him the annotated plans I've been marking up during our inspection. "Make these adjustments and send the revised specifications to my office by tomorrow."

"Of course, Ms. Williams." He accepts the documents with a professional nod. "I'll have someone escort you to the entrance."

"That's not necessary," I assure him. "I can manage from here."

With Gas at my side, I make my way toward the entrance where Thomas is waiting. He spots me immediately, removing his sunglasses and stepping forward to meet me.

"Mia," he greets me, his expression a mixture of concern and uncertainty. "I hope you don't mind the surprise visit. Scarlett called me this morning, worried about you being out in public after everything that happened yesterday."

"It's fine," I say, adjusting my grip on Gas's leash as he investigates Thomas with cautious interest. "Just unexpected."

"I know you can take care of yourself," Thomas adds quickly. "But with the media situation being what it is... well, I thought having an extra ally might be useful."

There's something in his tone, a careful neutrality that catches my attention. Thomas has always been straightforward, pragmatic. Now he seems almost nervous.

"What is it?" I ask directly. "Something's on your mind."

He glances around, noting the construction workers and security personnel within earshot. "Maybe we could talk in the car? I've sent your driver home—hope you don't mind. I thought I could drive you back."

My instinct is to refuse, to insist on maintaining my independence. But the thought of facing more reporters alone is enough to make me reconsider.

"Alright," I agree reluctantly. "But I need to get home soon. I'm tired."

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