CHAPTER 7

Rhaena’s POV

I hadn’t expected that. I had no idea what to think. The man gave a curt nod to my mum, barely a smile, barely a greeting. His green eyes caught the light, sharp and glassy, like they could see right through you. There was a five o’clock shadow on his jaw, softening it slightly, but I could still tell his jawline was sharp, carved almost like it had been sculpted.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and tight. There was something about him—something I couldn’t name—that made my chest clench and my stomach twist. Every time I tried to focus on Alessandro’s easy smile or the words he was saying, my eyes snapped back to Alessio, like they had a mind of their own.

Those green eyes—cold, sharp, almost cruel—kept pulling me in. The scowl on his face didn’t hide what was underneath: the strong line of his jaw, the sharp cheekbones, the way he carried himself like he owned every inch of space he stepped into.

Alessandro cleared his throat. “Rhaena, this is my son, Alessio.”

Alessio didn’t move. He just lifted his head and looked at me, and my stomach twisted again. Then Alessandro added, “And Rhaena.”

I forced a small, polite smile and lifted my hand for a handshake. My heart was beating faster than it should. But Alessio didn’t move his hand.

He just stared at mine, long and hard, like it carried something contagious, something dangerous. I felt a flash of irritation. He was already making me feel uncomfortable, and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

Finally, he spoke. Low. Calm. Cold. “Nice to meet you.”

The words were polite enough, but the look in his eyes said something else entirely. He looked through me, past me, like I was nothing more than an obstacle in his world. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

This wasn’t like his father—Alessandro was warm, easy, kind. Alessio… Alessio was a different breed entirely.

I tried to stand taller, straighten my shoulders, and meet his gaze. I wouldn’t let him see me as small or weak. I wanted to glare back, to make him understand that I wasn’t someone to be dismissed so easily. And I did. I glared, full force, locking eyes with him until I thought he might finally blink first.

But he didn’t. He just excused himself, voice flat.

“I’ll be back,” he said, and turned away, moving like he didn’t have a care in the world.

My eyes followed him, unwilling to let go of the scowl, the strong shoulders, the way he moved like every step was measured, deliberate, dangerous.

A soft touch on my arm made me flinch slightly. My mum’s warm hand rested there, grounding me. She leaned close, her voice soft but teasing, brushing against my ear.

“Stop glaring at your future stepbrother like you’re going to stab him in the back,” she whispered.

I turned my gaze away, blinking rapidly. Alessandro’s hand squeezed mine lightly.

“I’m sorry about his behavior,” he said, his voice calm. “He’ll warm up to you soon. He’s… complicated, but he’ll come around.”

I almost laughed. Warm up? I thought. There was no way that cold, scowling, snake-eyed man was going to warm up to me. Not without a fight.

And yet… I couldn’t help noticing the little things, the things that made my brain argue with itself. The cut of his tuxedo—it was sharp, perfectly fitted, like it had been made to emphasize the width of his shoulders and the strength of his chest.

The faint scent he left behind, a mix of cologne and something harder to describe, almost metallic, lingered in the air. The way his hands moved, relaxed but deliberate, the way he tilted his head slightly when he looked at people, like he was always calculating. Even his voice—low, controlled, calm—made me pay attention, even though I didn’t want to.

And those eyes. Those green, glassy eyes. I hated that they made my stomach twist in a way I didn’t like, that they made my heart beat faster, that they seemed to pierce right through me and see things I didn’t want anyone to see.

The party went on, the music and chatter wrapping the house in a warm, lively buzz. But Alessio didn’t return. I couldn’t tell if part of me was relieved or disappointed. Alessandro introduced me to his friends as his new daughter, and my chest warmed at the kindness in his voice. They all smiled and welcomed me, and I felt a little bit of the awkwardness melt away.

After a while, I excused myself, saying I needed to find the restroom. Alessandro nodded and gave me a small, reassuring smile. “Hurry back,” he said. “I’m going to give a toast soon.”

A waiter appeared and led me down a corridor I hadn’t explored yet. The walls were painted in soft, muted colors, and the light from the chandeliers made everything glimmer just a little. I reached the restroom, washed my hands, and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. When I stepped back into the hallway, I couldn’t help stopping to look around.

The house was incredible. Every corner seemed to hold something beautiful. Paintings lined the walls—portraits of people with serious expressions, landscapes that seemed to capture more than just a view. The frames were carved with gold and dark wood, intricate patterns that made them look like they belonged in a museum. Even the floor, polished and smooth, reflected the soft light in a way that made the whole place feel alive.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I wandered further into the house. My footsteps were quiet on the carpeted floors. I passed an open door and froze. A voice came from inside—a voice I knew. Alessio.

I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop. I kept telling myself that over and over, like a mantra. Rude. Intrusive. Wrong.

But my feet stayed rooted to the spot, and my ears refused to stop listening. My heart was beating faster, thudding painfully against my ribs, and I leaned just a fraction toward the doorway, careful to stay hidden in the shadows.

His voice was low, calm, almost casual, but there was a sharp edge to it that made my skin prickle. Each word was deliberate, measured, like he didn’t care who could hear him. And then I heard it.

“I’m sure she is marrying my dad for his money. She’s just a gold digger.”