I nod. “What do you think he’ll do when he finds out I’m marrying his daughter?”
The men laugh. “He’ll flip so bad. I’d pay to be a fly on the wall when that happens.”
“Me too,” I say, smiling despite myself.
“We have to draw an attack-and-defense plan,” Adrian says, slipping instantly into enforcer mode. “We need to figure this out because David won’t take this hit lying down.”
“You’re right,” Lev says. “What do you suggest?”
Adrian heads to the door. “Let’s take a walk.”
The three of us step outside. The sun hits just right, and some of the tension loosens in my head. For a moment, the weight of the decision eases, then the work begins.
As we walk, the conversation turns tactical.
Lev’s voice is sharp. “We attack. Hit David hard, take no chances.”
Adrian shakes his head. “No. We lay low. Let David make the first move. He’s sloppy. He’ll give us an opening.” He glances at me. “Have you tried to find out if Elara has any of her father’s secrets? Something she might know that could help us?”
I shake my head. “Their relationship…it’s strained. They’re not close. She wouldn’t know much—if anything. Even if she does, she wouldn’t give it willingly. We’re kind of at loggerheads right now.”
Lev leans in to me, eyes narrowing. “You planning to exploit that?”
I’m about to answer when a sound cuts through our discussion. It’s soft laughter. I look up.
Elara is ahead in the garden, her head thrown back, laughing with Sasha and Jennie. For a brief moment, she seems…almost normal. Almost happy.
Then her eyes catch mine. The laughter dies in her throat. Her expression hardens, and the warmth disappears as quickly as it appeared. She’s back to being untouchable, guarded. My presence wipes the smile off her face.
Something twists in my chest, but I look away from her, dismissing her as quickly as she did to me.
Chapter 9 – Elara
I just said goodbye to Sasha and Jennie a few minutes ago, and I’m back in my room. Meeting Jennie for the first time, I already like her. Seems all the wives have a good head on their shoulders. The men? Not so much.
Now that I’m alone, the loneliness hits me like a punch to the chest. My chest tightens, and for a second I feel tears prickling at the edge of my eyes. I push it away. I haven’t cried since that fateful dinner, the night my father put me on display like some object to be bought. I won’t cry now. Not here. Not for him.
I pace the room instead, restless, running my hands over the smooth surfaces of the furniture as if to ground myself. Every corner, every decoration screams wealth and control. Roman’s wealth, his control. And me? I’m trapped in the middle of it.
I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to steady my breathing. The door remains open. He hasn’t locked it. No guards outside. A subtle move, a power play, reminding me I’m free to walk…but not free to leave.
I hug my knees to my chest, forcing myself to think of anything else. The library, the smell of paint, the corner where I let my creativity flow like air—I close my eyes and see it again. My hands moving over the canvas, the world narrowing to colors and strokes. For a few hours, I had been free. For a few hours, I had been me.
But now, the memory only makes the walls around me feel smaller. I don’t belong here. Not in this mansion. Not in this life.
And yet…I can’t help but wonder how he is right now. Roman. The storm I can’t escape, the cage I can’t unlock. Eventhe thought makes my chest tighten—not with fear, not entirely—but something else. Something I’m too stubborn to name.
I press my palms to my face, letting out a shaky breath. I won’t cry. I won’t give him that satisfaction. Not today.
I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday. The bastard. He tried to speak to me once, and when I ignored him, he just pulled away. Jerk. Not like I care or anything.
We’d locked eyes for a moment in the garden, and honestly…what’s up with that man? His soul feels dead or something. His eyes are completely lifeless, like a frozen lake. No warmth, no anger, no joy—nothing. I can’t even tell what he’s thinking.
Thankfully, the girls moved away soon after, and I didn’t see him again. It’s easy to take my mind off him when I don’t have to look at him. Every time I do, I feel like I’m staring at something I shouldn’t—something dangerous. So I just don’t.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call, my voice calm even though my heart starts racing.
