Chapter Five

My fingers instinctively tightened around hers for a second before I forced myself to let go. I stared into her eyes—eyes that sparkled with charm but simmered with something darker.

The way she smiled made my skin crawl. It wasn’t just smugness. It was possession.

“This is Alyssa,” Joseph said, voice light but firm as he gestured toward the woman now standing beside me. “A long-time friend of the family.”

Long-time friend. Right.

I nodded politely. “Nice to meet you.”

She leaned in just slightly, her perfume heavy and sweet—like expensive poison. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ll get used to it. Or you’ll break. We’ll see.”

I couldn’t even form a response. She turned on her heels, her red dress swaying with every step as she walked back to the table. She didn’t sit in a chair. She sat—no, sprawled—right across Jillian’s lap like she belonged there.

And he let her.

He didn’t touch her. Didn’t look at her. But he didn’t push her off either.

Joseph cleared his throat, pretending none of this was awkward. “Come, Christy. Sit.”

I took the chair farthest from them and lowered myself quietly, keeping my head down as a maid served my plate.

The air was tense, the kind of tense that settles deep in your bones. No one spoke for a long moment. The only sound was the clink of silverware against plates.

“You’re not eating,” Alyssa said suddenly, eyes on me.

I looked up slowly. “Not very hungry.”

She tilted her head. “Is it the food or the company?”

“Both,” I said before I could stop myself.

Her brows lifted. She laughed—not fake, not forced. Genuinely amused. “You’ve got fire. I respect that. Not sure it’ll save you, though.”

Jillian finally looked up. Just one sharp glance. “Enough, Alyssa.”

The room stilled. Even Joseph seemed surprised.

Alyssa’s smirk faltered, but only for a second. “Of course, darling. Anything for you.”

She ran a hand down his chest slowly before finally—finally—sliding off his lap and taking a proper seat.

Dinner moved on in silence again, but my heart was pounding like a drum against my ribs. My hands trembled slightly under the table, and I pressed them into my lap to still them.

I was out of my depth. Way out.

Once the plates were cleared and dessert was served—something I barely looked at—Joseph turned toward me.

“Christy, I know this isn’t what you wanted. But this is your home now. You’ll learn how things work here.”

I gave him a short nod, keeping my face neutral.

“And you’ll get used to Alyssa,” he added with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “She means well. Most of the time.”

Alyssa gave a little wave. “I’m very lovable once you stop threatening my position.”

“I didn’t know I was threatening anything,” I said coolly.

“You are. Just by existing.”

The words sank into me like knives.

I stood before my temper got the best of me. “May I be excused?”

Joseph nodded. “Of course.”

Jillian didn’t even glance my way.

My room was dim and silent when I got back. I didn’t turn on the lights. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the shadows.

I didn’t cry. I wasn’t going to give them that.

But I hated how fast my heart beat. I hated the heat in my chest—the pain, the jealousy, the confusion. Jillian kissing me, touching me like he needed me… and then letting her sit on his lap like I didn’t exist?

I didn’t understand him. And I didn’t know if I ever would.

A knock sounded on my door.

I didn’t move. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” His voice was unmistakable.

My chest clenched.

The door opened before I answered, and he stepped inside like he belonged there. His presence filled the room. Controlled it.

“What do you want?” I asked, standing.

He didn’t answer right away. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. His eyes were dark, unreadable in the low light.

“You looked upset at dinner.”

“I wonder why.”

“You weren’t supposed to see her like that.”

“Then why did you let her sit on you like a trophy?”

Silence.

He walked toward me slowly. I held my ground even as his shadow passed over mine. “I didn’t ask her to do that.”

“But you didn’t stop her either.”

He was right in front of me now, close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes.

“You’re not used to this world yet,” he said. “But you will be.”

“And what happens until then?” I whispered. “You keep humiliating me in front of people who want me gone?”

Something flickered in his gaze. “I don’t want you gone.”

My breath hitched.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. His fingers lingered, trailing down my jaw.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured. “You taste like sin.”

Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine again. This kiss was different. Less anger, more desperation. A spark that turned quickly into a flame.

I kissed him back because I wanted to. Because I needed to feel like I mattered, even if it was only for a moment.

His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him. I could feel his heartbeat thudding against mine. I gasped softly into his mouth, and he deepened the kiss, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other sliding down to my thigh.

But then he stopped.

Pulled away.

We were both breathing hard, lips swollen, eyes locked.

“I’m not yours,” I said quietly.

“No,” he agreed. “But you will be.”

And just like that, he turned and walked out, leaving me shaking in the dark, half-kissed and completely destroyed.