I didn't sleep much after what happened on the balcony.
Adrian stepping toward me like he wanted to kiss me.
Adrian stopping like he was torturing himself.
Adrian telling me not to leave his sight, voice low and strained.
It all loops in my head like a fever.
He left me alone after that—said he had "business," which probably meant violence—and I spent the morning trying to pretend my heart wasn't beating too fast whenever I thought of him.
By noon, I'm in the east sitting room with a book I'm not actually reading, trying to stay out of everyone's way. The house is too big, too quiet, too heavy with secrets. Every sound makes me jump.
I'm halfway through the same paragraph for the tenth time when footsteps echo down the hall—confident, rhythmic, expensive.
Not Adrian.
Someone else.
The man who steps in looks like he belongs in glossy magazine spreads and crime reports at the same time—dark hair, clean suit, eyes that do a slow sweep of the room and stop on me like he's evaluating a piece of art.
"Ah," he says, smiling. "You must be the bride."
The way he says it… like it's a role I barely qualify for.
I straighten. "And you are?"
"Dominic." He gives a small bow. "Leon's cousin. Technically."
He studies me again. "You're prettier than the rumors said."
Rumors?
About me?
Before I can ask, a shift in the air behind me makes my spine go stiff.
Adrian.
I don't have to look to know—it's his presence, sharp as knives and warm as breath on skin.
Dominic doesn't turn around. He just grins wider. "Speak of the devil."
Adrian steps forward, and I swear the temperature drops five degrees.
"Why are you here," he says, voice flat.
"Family visit," Dominic says lightly. "Unless you've forgotten we share blood."
"We don't share anything useful."
Adrian comes beside me—not behind, beside, like he's claiming equal space but still physically shielding me. "State your business and leave."
Dominic glances at me again. "So protective. Interesting."
Adrian's jaw flexes. I feel the danger radiating off him, like a barely-contained storm.
Dominic drapes himself on the couch across from us. "Relax. I just came to see the woman everyone's whispering about." His eyes meet mine. "The one who married you so suddenly. The one you're keeping on a leash."
I bristle. "I'm not—"
Adrian cuts in, voice low. "Watch your mouth."
"Yes, yes," Dominic sighs. "Big scary husband routine. Very convincing."
He turns to me. "Tell me, Elena… are you here willingly?"
Adrian stiffens.
I answer before Leon can. "I'm here because I made a deal."
Dominic raises a brow. "A deal with Leon is rarely fair."
Adrian's eyes narrow in warning, but Dominic keeps going.
"You know he doesn't do anything without a motive, right? Whatever terms he gave you…" His smile turns sharp. "There's always a price."
He's needling Leon on purpose, I realize. Testing boundaries. Testing me.
But before I can respond, Dominic leans forward, elbows on knees.
"You should come to the gala tomorrow night," he tells me. "Most of the families will be there. People will want to see the new bride."
Leon answers coldly. "She's not going."
Dominic laughs. "Why? Afraid someone might steal her?"
Adrian doesn't laugh. At all.
And something in me wakes up—curious, reckless, wanting to poke at the tension sparking between them.
"I wouldn't mind going," I say quietly.
Leon turns his head toward me so fast I almost flinch.
"You're not ready," he says.
"For what? Walking in a room? I'm not made of glass."
"You don't know how dangerous these people are."
"And I'm married to one," I fire back.
Dominic's smile spreads like wildfire.
Adrian's eyes flash with something hot and possessive.
"You're not going," he repeats.
I fold my arms. "Then stop speaking for me like I don't have a say."
The silence between us is sharp enough to cut.
Dominic breaks it with a low whistle. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Leon ignores him completely. His gaze is fixed on me alone, intense and unreadable.
"Elena. Come with me."
He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't have to.
I hate that I stand up anyway.
He leads me out of the room, down the hall, into his office. The door clicks shut behind us.
And the moment it does, Adrian steps closer pinning his hands on either side of me against the desk.
"You don't know him," he says, voice low. "He's dangerous."
"So are you."
His jaw tightens. "Not with you."
I laugh, but it's small, shaky. "Adrian, you kidnapped me into marriage. Don't pretend—"
He cuts me off, stepping even closer. "I don't want you near him."
"Why? Because he talks to me like I'm human?"
His eyes harden. "Because he looks at you."
The air changes.
"What?"
"He looks at you," he repeats, slower, darker. "Too long. Too much."
…Adrian is jealous.
Adrian is actually jealous.
It hits me like a warm punch to the ribs.
"You don't get to be jealous," I whisper. "You hate me."
His hand comes up—hesitant at first—then settles on my jaw like he's fighting a war inside himself.
"Elena," he murmurs, "I don't hate you."
My heartbeat stumbles.
He swallows once, hard, like he's forcing the words out.
"I don't hate you," he says again, softer, rougher. "That's the problem."
My breath catches.
Before anything else can happen—before I can move or speak—the office door bursts open.
"Adrian," a guard says breathlessly, "there's a situation downstairs."
Adrian pulls away from me instantly. The warmth of him disappears like someone ripped off a blanket.
He turns toward the guard, voice snapping back to cold command. "What situation?"
"It's Dominic, sir. He… he invited someone."
Leon's eyes sharpen. "Who?"
And the guard hesitates.
"Your fiancée."
The room freezes.
My stomach drops through the floor.
Leon's face goes blank—dangerously, murderously blank.
He whispers, "She's not my fiancée."
But the guard adds, quietly:
"She says she's here to take you back."
Adrian's pulse goes still.
And I realize—
This is only the beginning.