MasukAriana's POV Applause followed us like a living thing as we stood from our seats.Not warm applause. Not kind.The sharp, speculative kind that cut, that whispered power and money and who won.I felt it on my skin as Slade offered his arm again, his posture unbothered, his face unreadable. If anyone was watching closely enough, they might have noticed the slight tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw flexed once, twice.I took his arm anyway.Because this was part of the performance.As we walked past the rows of seated guests, heads turned. Conversations died. Phones discreetly lifted. Somewhere behind us, a woman whispered my name like it was a secret she wanted to taste.I kept my chin high.And then I saw them.Shawn and Isabella stood near the aisle, waiting for us to pass. They hadn’t left yet either too stunned or too proud to flee immediately. Isabella’s face was tight, her smile stretched thin and brittle, like glass under pressure. Shawn looked… hollow.Not angry or furi
Isabella POVApplause.Polite. Controlled. Artificial.The kind of applause that felt like mockery when it wasn’t meant for you.Isabella clapped too slowly, deliberately her smile fixed so perfectly in place that her cheeks ached. The room buzzed with admiration and envy, but all she could hear was the echo of the auctioneer’s final words:Sold. To Mr. and Mrs. Knight.Mrs. Knight.The title scraped across her nerves like glass.She turned her head just enough to see them. Ariana glowing with shock and restrained triumph. Slade leaning close, whispering something into her ear that made her shiver.Intimate. Private. Devastating.Isabella’s nails dug into her clutch.She shouldn’t care. She had upgraded. That was the story she told herself and everyone else. She’d traded instability for ambition. Emotion for security. Shawn had been… convenient. A stepping stone.That’s what she told herself.But watching Ariana stand there wearing a necklace Isabella had claimed out loud, in front of
Ariana’s POV Sleep was a joke. After the hallway bants. After the way Slade’s voice had dropped into something dangerous and unguarded, after the way my body still felt like it was vibrating hours later.I lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every inch of space we hadn’t crossed. And the worst part? He’d walked away. Not stormed. Not snapped. Just… closed himself off again like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t nearly detonated something neither of us knew how to defuse. By morning, the mansion felt different and quiet. Not tense in the loud way but tense in the way a house feels when everyone is pretending nothing happened the night before. Liana was suspiciously cheerful at breakfast. Margo kissed my cheek twice and told me I looked “positively radiant,” which made me choke on my coffee. Slade barely spoke at all. He didn’t avoid me and that was worse. He was polite. Controlled. Distant. The kind of distance that said last night never happened witho
Ariana’s POVI was halfway down the east hallway when I heard the door.Closed with the kind of quiet control that meant someone was angry and trying very hard not to be.I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Slade.The air shifted when he entered a room. Not dramatically but subtly, like pressure changing before a storm. The mansion felt different with him in it. Sharper. Taut.I kept walking.Footsteps followed.Measured. Even. Close enough that I could feel heat at my back.“Are you done avoiding me,” Slade asked.His voice wasn’t loud.That was worse.I stopped.Slowly turned.He stood a few feet away, jacket gone, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His expression was controlled to the point of being carved from stone but his eyes were dark, restless. Like something behind them was pacing.“Am I avoiding you,” I asked lightly, “or are you just used to people chasing you?”A muscle jumped in his jaw.“Don’t,” he said.“Don’t what?”“Deflect.”I laughed once, short and humorless.
Slade’s POVI didn’t go to my office.If I had, I would’ve stared at numbers without seeing them, snapped at assistants who didn’t deserve it, and eventually replayed the way Ariana laughed at dinner like it was a personal betrayal my mind refused to let go of.So instead, I left the house.I took the back stairs. Grabbed my keys. Ignored the way my chest felt too tight, like something was pressing from the inside out.I told myself I needed a drink.What I really needed was distance.The bar was private, quiet, and expensive enough that no one asked questions. No flashing lights or loud music. Just low jazz humming through hidden speakers, dark wood walls, and bartenders who knew when to pour without speaking.My kind of place.I slid into my usual seat, loosened my tie, and ordered whiskey. The good one.The first sip burned.Good.Pain that made sense.I’d barely set the glass down when the stool beside me scraped softly.“Damn,” a familiar voice said. “You look like hell.”I didn’
Ariana’s POVBy the time we got home from the beach, every nerve in my body was vibrating between embarrassment, adrenaline, and mild sunburn. Liana had nearly drowned Slade twice “accidentally,” Slade had chased her through the sand like a vengeful Greek god in flamingo shorts, and Margo had taken a thousand photos for the “family scrapbook,” which apparently existed.I needed a nap.A long one.Like… hibernation length.But destiny or rather, Margo had other plans.Because the moment we stepped through the mansion doors, she clapped her hands together with the gleeful menace of a general announcing a mandatory battle.“Everyone shower!” she declared.“We’re having a family dinner.”Slade groaned like a man being sentenced.Liana cheered like a gremlin.And I… well, I considered faking my death.One hour later…I stood outside the grand dining room wearing a soft cream dress Liana insisted I “borrow forever.” My hair was down, still warm from the blow dryer, and my skin smelled like







