Chapter 3

I declined firmly, saying I wanted to return to the Family's offices downtown.

But without a word, Dominic pulled me into the back seat of the armored sedan.

Bianca was already settled in the front, beside him, her posture loose and certain, like she owned the car, the driver's seat of his life, and the man behind the wheel.

"Adriana, just let Dominic drive you," she said sweetly. "He hasn't been going down to the club or the offices lately. He's been keeping me company. He has plenty of free time now."

In our eight years bound by the alliance our bloodlines swore, even during the feast days that were meant to be ours, even when I was sick in bed, Dominic never once set the Family aside. Not for me.

But the moment Bianca came back from the American branch, she became the sole recipient of his rare and undivided attention.

That thought stung. I looked up, my eyes quietly taking in the two figures seated ahead of me.

Just then, Bianca gasped, one hand fluttering to the base of her throat as a soft, trembling breath left her.

"Dominic, I think I've stained your seat."

There was indeed a faint, dark red patch on the leather beside her.

Dominic didn't flinch. His tone was gentle, even indulgent.

"It's alright. It just needs cleaning."

Then, almost out of instinct, he glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

Seeing that I hadn't reacted, he looked away without another word.

When we reached the building that housed the Family's legitimate holdings, I opened the door to step out and nearly walked into my supervisor, the man who ran the overseas dealings I'd been quietly assigned to.

"Adriana," he said seriously, keeping his voice low, the way men in this world lowered their voices when the words carried weight. "Are you absolutely sure about this? Once the request is put before them, there's no turning back. Weren't you meant to be married and away on your honeymoon next month?"

I was about to answer when Dominic lowered the car window, his expression cold.

"Adriana, Bianca wants to travel next month," he announced bluntly. "We'll push the union and the honeymoon back by a month."

I nodded without hesitation. "Alright."

He went still for a moment, as if he'd braced for me to argue, to make a scene, to fight for the wedding our two Families had spent years arranging. But I didn't. I simply agreed.

Before I could say more, Bianca leaned into him, tugging playfully at his arm.

"Dominic, don't push the honeymoon back. Let's all travel together instead."

Dominic grinned and, without so much as a glance in my direction, answered cheerfully.

"Sure. We'll all go together. Adriana, let's just book our trips separately."

I didn't object.

After all, I had already decided there would be no wedding. What reason did I have for a honeymoon?

I watched the car pull into the street, his silhouette shrinking behind the tinted glass.

My supervisor studied me with concern.

"Once the paperwork goes through, it takes about a week. But if it comes to that, I can move it faster. You could be gone the day after tomorrow."

That evening, for the first time in longer than I could remember, Dominic came to collect me himself.

The moment I got into the car, he pressed a warm bowl into my hands, black sugar and peach gum, still steaming.

"I made this for you," he said.

But the words had barely left him when his phone lit up in the console.

It was from Bianca.

Dominic, you're such a fool. You made so much of that soup. Are you trying to fatten poor Bianca into a little pig?

The car fell into an awkward silence.

Eventually, he broke it.

"You've been reading up on the overseas dealings. Planning some trip for the Family's business?"

I shook my head. "My supervisor only asked me to get familiar with them."

Sensing the low pull of my mood, he, who was usually all distance and cold edges, softened his tone.

"Take tomorrow off. I'll take you to the pictures. Weren't you always after me to see that new release?"

"No need. I don't have time tomorrow."

It had once been the film he was most eager for.

But he'd already seen it. With her.

No point watching it again.

He misread me, and his tone turned sharp.

"Adriana, what is your problem now?"

"I let Bianca stay under our roof for a few days, and already you're sulking?"

I was taken aback, about to tell him I wasn't sulking at all.

But he didn't wait for my answer.

He scoffed and pressed on, his voice heavy with accusation.

"With an attitude like yours, how am I supposed to make you my wife? Bianca would suffer for years under a woman like you."

Then came the final blow.

"Let me make one thing clear. In this house, I am the one who decides. Bianca staying a few days? That's nothing. Even if she lives with us for good, you have no right to say a word against it."