***ADRIAN'S POV***
The elder who had officiated our wedding vows and procession was on stage giving a speech.
Many guests had already arrived. The hall was filled with the Who's Who of Ravenshore.
I wanted badly to gulp down a glass of alcohol or two, but I restrained myself. Two nights were already etched deeply in my mind, and I couldn't forget about either of them. I couldn't risk getting drunk again—one more night added to that count, and I knew I'd drive myself crazy overthinking.
"Sir Adrian!" a voice called, and I turned to see a pretty-looking lady standing behind me.
She wore a body-hugging red dress, no makeup except for the red lipstick and black eyeliner that sharpened her eyes.
She should have worn more, I noticed. And Lizabeth should have worn none.
It wasn't as if I cared, but I couldn't help stating the obvious to myself: if women wanted to seduce straight men, to have them undress them with their eyes without ever touching them, then they needed to learn more about their own faces instead of blindly following trends.
"I've been looking for you all over, Mr. Carter! I wanted to report the progress of the account you handed over to me three months ago, sir," she said.
It was then I remembered who she was. I had sent her—through my secretary—abroad to handle a foreign branch I was planning to open. It was still in the early stages, so no one else knew about it yet.
"Go on," I responded.
Her face dropped a little at my flat tone, the earlier excitement dimming. I braced myself for the news, whatever it might be.
But then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed Lizabeth.
She had been watching me. I could feel it even before I turned slightly to confirm. She stood at another corner of the hall, her gaze locked on me and the woman before me.
And the longer I spoke with my assistant, the darker her expression became. She didn't move nor blink but only stared.
I could almost read what she must be thinking. Maybe she believed I was too relaxed, too comfortable here—when only minutes before, standing beside her, I had been stiff and restless.
Maybe she thought I had a lover. That the reason I walked away from her that first night wasn't hesitation but someone else waiting in the shadows.
I saw the way her eyes narrowed at the assistant's dress. The body-hugging red fabric that accentuated her curves. Slender, tall, large chest, smaller backside. My wife's gaze flicked between the woman and herself as though she were measuring, comparing.
And then her eyes hardened. She must have decided something, because she began walking toward us—confident, majestic, her heels clinking steadily against the floor, every step deliberate.
Was that jealousy? I scuffed. That might be before she becomes aware what her brother had done. While other brides get cheated on with commercial pleasure workers and sometimes their friends or women like this, her own husband might end up in the news one day with her brother as his side distraction.
"Oh hi…" she muttered as she reached us, sliding her hand through my arm, reclaiming her space beside me.
"Adrian?…" she said, turning to me, waiting for an introduction.
"Oh, yes," I muttered, clearing my throat. I had nearly forgotten. "This is my assistant. She's been away abroad for some time now."
"Good evening, Mrs. Carter. Congratulations on your lovely marriage," my assistant said politely, extending her hand toward Lizabeth.
Of course she didn't need to be told who my wife was—the entire internet was plastered with our wedding.
But Lizabeth only stared at the extended hand. She didn't take it.
Seconds stretched. The woman withdrew her hand at last, embarrassed, perhaps assuming Lizabeth thought her beneath her notice. Afterall she was an alpha's daughter whereas she lower than her, a third rank gamma.
I remained silent. I didn't step in, not nudge Lizabeth to be polite. I couldn't. For one, I didn't know if she was one of those who looked down on peopleand if she was, that would be a much bigger issue in this marriage than one awkward handshake.
But more than that, I could tell she wasn't simply being dismissive. She was lost in her own thoughts, perhaps comparing and doubting.
My assistant had made me smile—a small one, but more than I'd given my bride so far. And Lizabeth had noticed.
Was that all this was to her? My assistant? Or did she believe she was my mistress? Women. Their overthinking makes them fail to pick subtle hints. I guessed.
I didn't answer her unspoken questions. I couldn't. Instead, I stood still, caught in the silence that hung heavy between the three of us.