Chapter 4

Claire~

A maid immediately fills my plate before I can ask, even though the sight of him, plus this sitting arrangement already drained my appetite.

Robert gestures toward the dishes. "I had the chef prepare several recipes. Try everything and tell him what you like."

"Thank you," I say, barely tasting the first bite.

Every nerve in my body is focused on the man across from me. Too aware of even the way he chews and swallows, afraid that the next words he say might be about our little secret. I don't know if he's the vengeful type who can't take no for an answer. He could be against this marriage and intends to sabotage it because he doesn't want a stepmother as young as me or half-siblings to share inheritance with him...

Because there's no way I'll believe he's in love with me that's why he's torturing me.

While I'm unraveling, the man who has thrown my world into chaos is eating with effortless composure, answering Robert's questions about work and life as though nothing unusual has ever happened between us.

"I heard you're seeing someone these days." Robert cut into his steak with an easy smile. "When are you bringing her home for dinner?"

Arthur let out a quiet chuckle. "I'm afraid that's not entirely accurate."

Robert raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I wouldn't call it dating."

My ears perk up for some reason, suddenly interested in his love life. And I can't even explain why.

Arthur lifts his wineglass, turning it lazily between his fingers before finally looking at me.

Our eyes meet again. And the knowing look in them makes my heartbeat stumble.

"There is someone who caught my interest," he admit. "Unfortunately..." A slow smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "She belongs to someone else now."

Blood drain from my face. He can't... Surely he isn't talking about—

"But," he continues smoothly, "I've never been very good at giving up once I decide I want something."

My fingers tighten around my fork. Every word feels like it is meant for me alone.

Robert laughs, completely oblivious. "I didn't raise a quitter."

"No," Arthur agrees, never taking his eyes off me. "You certainly didn't."

The dining room suddenly feels several degrees warmer. I reach for my water, but my hand is shaking so badly my fingers slip against the glass.

The crystal tip and water splash across the table.

"Oh!"

I cough, pretending I had drank some and it had gone down the wrong way.

Before I could reach for another glass, Arthur slides his own glass toward me.

"Careful, Mother."

He says the words with perfect respect. Yet hearing it from his lips make my skin crawl. I ignore his glass and reach for the one Robert offers instead.

"Easy, Claire." Robert rubs my back gently. "No one's going to steal your dinner." He jokes, smiling.

If only he knew.

That the only thing being stolen tonight is my peace of mind.

Across the table, Arthur finally takes back his untouched glass. A faint, satisfied smile lingers on his lips for whatever reason.

The meal continues afterward without any more drama, much to my relief.

Maybe I'm thinking too much. Maybe Arthur has only wanted to tease me a bit. Nothing more.

I silently pray that's the end of it.

Then Arthur reaches for the small porcelain bowl beside his plate. His elbow nudges it ever so slightly. And the bowl tips.

A streak of tomatoe paste spills across the white tablecloth before splattering onto the neatly folded napkin resting on his lap.

"Oh my god." One of the maids gasps and rushes forward. "I'm terribly sorry, Master Arthur."

Arthur glances down at the stain before giving a dismissive smile. "It's only sauce."

He picks up the white napkin slowly. His long fingers glid across the red stain, wiping it away with unhurried strokes. Back and forth.

Again. And again.

His eyes lifts. Straight to mine and he mouth,

"Just like your blood."

For a terrifying moment, I forget how to breathe, because the bastard has thrown me into that night again. The image of the red sauce on the white tablecloth suddenly overlaps with the image of my blood stains on the hotel's white sheets.

"You didn't tell me it was your first time."

His voice had been barely above a whisper, stripped of all the teasing confidence he'd worn when he approached me on the dance floor.

I couldn't bring myself to answer.

My face burned with humiliation as I stared at the crumpled sheets beneath us, now marked with my blood that neither of us had expected.

He had looked at it for a long moment before looking back at me.

"You should've told me."

"I..." My throat had tightened. "Would it have changed anything?"

His silence had lasted only a heartbeat.

"Yes." His thumb brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I would've—"

"Claire?"

The memory shatters as Robert's voice cut through the dining room.

I blink hard.

Arthur is still dabbing at the tomato sauce with the napkin, his expression as composed as ever, as though the gesture mean nothing at all.

As though he hadn't just dragged me back to a night I'd spent every waking hour trying to forget.

"You don't look fine." Robert says, "I'll get the doctor."

I quickly wave. "I'm perfectly fine."

He doesn't believe it. His brows remain furrowed.

"I..." I swallow hard, forcing the memory back where it belong. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something."

Robert looks unconvinced.

"You've hardly touched your dinner. And you've been spacing out a lot."

"I'm just a little overwhelmed." I manage a small, apologetic smile. "Everything has happened so fast. I'm still getting used to it."

His expression softens almost immediately.

"Of course." He reach across the table and pat my hand. "You've had an exhausting few days."

I nod, lowering my eyes before he can see the guilt swimming in them before I change the topic.

"My mother mentioned..." I begin, then deliberately trail off.

Robert looks up. So does the troublemaker.

I want to remind him about the reason I agreed to marry him. It's been four days already he should have started working by now.

And if he hasn't started, I can use that as an excuse to act emotional and once again drag the consummation of our marriage again as I can no longer rely on fainting and acting ill anymore.

"If it's alright..." I hesitate just enough to sound uncertain. "Could we talk about it later? In private?"

Arthur's fork pause halfway to his mouth.

Robert smile warmly. "Of course. After dinner, I'll come to your room."

Relief wash over me so quickly I almost sigh.

Across the table, Arthur watch me in silence. His expression remain unreadable. I wonder what he's thinking. But something tells me he'll do something.