Chapter 3

The Blackthorn family dinner was, as always, both lavish and suffocating.

I wore a conservative black gown, my arm linked with my brother Luca’s, staying quietly by his side.

“You seem different tonight, Rachel,” Luca murmured. “You’re usually… on edge.”

He was right. On edge.

Because my eyes were always chasing one person across the room.

Tonight, I hadn’t even glanced toward the head table.

Evan Blackthorn was holding court, and beside him, in a pristine white evening gown, was Sofia Rossi.

They looked like a perfect couple.

Never mind that she was his brother’s widow. In our world, power is everything. Nobody cared about the details.

I could hear the low hum of approval around them.

“Evan, this must be your brother’s widow? A true beauty,” said the head of an allied family, raising his glass.

A faint smile touched Evan’s lips.

“Yes, this is Sofia.”

The portly man turned to her. “Mrs. Rossi, an honor. A toast to you.”

Sofia looked flustered, shrinking back behind Evan almost instinctively.

Evan immediately shielded her, taking her uninjured hand. His voice held a tone that could almost be described as doting.

“Sorry, Antonio. Sofia can’t drink today.” He held up her index finger, which had a small bandage on it, for everyone to see. “She cut it making breakfast for me this morning.”

A round of good-natured chuckles and suggestive whistles went through the crowd.

“Ooh, so that’s how it is!”

“Some guys have all the luck.”

Evan soaked it in, the smile on his face deepening.

Then, his eyes cut across the room and landed squarely on me.

The warm facade vanished, replaced by the cold, possessive command of Evan Blackthorn.

“Rachel,” he called my name. His voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced our entire corner of the room. “Come here. You’ll drink this for Sofia.”

Every eye was on me.

Curiosity. Scrutiny. Contempt.

I was the subordinate, trotted out to take a drink for the future lady of the house.

Luca’s face hardened. He took a step forward, shielding me.

“Boss, Rachel can’t—”

“Luca,” Evan’s voice went cold as steel. “That was an order.”

I couldn’t let Luca get in trouble for my sake. He was my brother, and I wouldn’t let him clash with the Don over me.

I gave Luca’s sleeve a gentle tug and shook my head.

Then I stepped out from behind him, walked to the portly man, and took the glass of whiskey from his hand.

“It is my honor to drink for Mrs. Rossi.”

I tilted my head back and downed the burning liquid in one go.

The liquor seared a path down my throat and into my stomach.

I set the glass down, my expression unchanged.

Sofia looked at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. "I'm so envious of Rachel. So capable, and so valued by Evan... I wonder, does Rachel have a man in her life? Any man would be lucky to have her."

Evan’s brow furrowed, clearly disliking the topic.

But I didn't flinch. I smiled and played along. "I don't have anyone, but Miss Rossi is right. It's probably time I start thinking about that."

Evan's face darkened the moment I said "I don't have anyone."

Sofia, pretending not to notice, tugged on his arm. "Evan, why don't you introduce her to someone? She's your loyal subordinate, after all."

I knew what she was doing. Testing his feelings for me.

Evan's fingers tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning white.

I sealed the deal, raising my empty glass. "That would be wonderful. I like gentle men."

His gaze was a knife, trying to skin me alive. I could feel the rage rolling off him. A tool that "belonged" to him was daring to have a life of its own.

But he couldn't lose it in front of everyone.

He forced the anger down, squeezing out a cold smile through gritted teeth. "Of course," he said, his eyes never leaving mine, but the words were for Sofia. "I'll personally find a suitable match for her. No one from the Blackthorn family can be allowed to marry down."

The dinner continued in that strange, tense atmosphere. Evan kept schmoozing with Sofia, but his mood was a thundercloud. I felt his eyes on me from time to time, but I ignored every single glance.

Later, I was in the restroom, fixing my makeup.

The door opened and Sofia walked in.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, the helpless, innocent look gone from her face.

“You’re a smart one, Rachel,” she said.

I ignored her and continued applying my lipstick.

She sauntered over, standing beside me. She looked at my reflection in the mirror, then her cheeks flushed slightly, and she adopted the tone of a girl sharing a secret.

“Evan… what does he like in bed? Since I’ll be… taking care of him from now on, I’d hate to not know his preferences.”

She paused, then added with pure venom, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

I clicked the lipstick shut, turned, and smiled at her.

The smile must have surprised her.

There was no anger, no jealousy. Only a calm that felt almost like pity.

I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, so only she could hear:

“Evan likes black lace.”