Chapter 1

I lifted my head from Rhys's arms, his strong chest rising and falling against my cheek.

Silk sheets tangled around our naked bodies, the air thick with the scent of our passion.

After a passionate night with my childhood friend, the Mafia heir, I was jolted awake at three in the morning by the shrill ring of a phone.

It was the Don, ordering me to bring Rhys back to the estate for an arranged marriage.

I figured it was just another heiress trying to claw her way into the Griffin family, so I kissed his forehead, pressing myself against him and whispering with a low laugh.

"Rhys, what's your plan for this boring princess?"

He arched an eyebrow, wrapping a lazy arm around my waist. "Baby, make sure you pick out a good tie for me. I need to make a good impression on my future father-in-law."

Seeing me freeze, Rhys sat up and shot me a casual glance, his voice laced with indifference.

"Maeve, what's with that reaction? We're just having fun."

"You didn't actually think you were going to be the next Donna of the Griffin family, did you?"

...

My mind went blank. I didn't know how to react.

As the shock wore off, I pulled away from Rhys's embrace and awkwardly scrambled to pick up my clothes from the carpet.

All I wanted was to get out of there.

But Rhys stopped me. "Maeve, wait." He caught my wrist, his voice laced with amusement. "You haven't misunderstood our relationship, have you?"

The words "just having fun" hit me like a bullet. I could barely breathe, my fingers trembling so much I couldn't fasten my bra.

Rhys got out of bed, revealing his broad, solid chest, still marked with the kisses I'd left last night.

He came up behind me and began to dress me, his movements as natural as they had always been.

But now, every touch was salt in the wound, each familiar gesture only deepening my pain.

I lowered my head and gave a bitter smile. "So, who is she? This arranged marriage of yours."

"Which family's daughter is the prized pawn this time?"

He had been so rough last night. My body was still sore, a dull ache throbbing between my legs from our passion.

Rhys, wearing only a pair of black trousers, pulled me into his arms from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"It's Noa."

His dark brown eyes narrowed, a flicker of anticipation and excitement in their depths. "You know, Maeve, the thought of the one that got away finally coming back to me... it's thrilling."

My hand froze mid-motion as I was brushing my hair. Of course, I remembered Noa.

Rhys had been completely obsessed with her, but before he could confess his feelings, she had left for Europe.

I had naively thought he had long forgotten her.

Rhys stared at my reflection in the mirror, his lips pursed. "Maeve, don't tell me you actually thought this was serious. We grew up together. We've just known each other longer than most. That's it."

"I'll admit, you're incredible in bed. I enjoy being with you, but that's just physical compatibility."

It felt like I'd been struck by lightning, leaving me unable to utter a single word.

I stared at Rhys's sharp, chiseled features and forced a smile, pretending I was just in it for the fun, trying to salvage what was left of my dignity.

His verbal assault continued, each word more ruthless than the last. "To be honest, I'm glad my father didn't force me to marry you."

"Can you imagine? Marrying a woman who's been around since you were a kid? There's no novelty in that. It's actually a bit boring."

"Besides, it would be bad for business. As the heir to the Griffin family, I need a marriage that brings real value."

He shook his head, as if trying to physically cast off the nightmare of a life with me.

My fingers clenched into tight fists as I desperately fought to remain calm.

I couldn't cry. Not now, not here. And especially not in front of this bastard.

"I have somewhere to be. I'm leaving."

And just like that, I fled.

I had always believed that what Rhys and I had was an unspoken love. We acted like a real couple, after all.

We attended important family functions together, vacationed together, shared our lives, and spent countless enchanting nights in each other's arms.

Rhys would take me to parties, introduce me to his friends, and kiss me possessively in front of them.

During every shootout and bloody conflict, he was the one who shielded me, making sure I was safe.

At every negotiation or social event where I was out of my depth, he would secretly take my hand. I can still recall the warmth of his palm.

But now I understood.

What I thought was love was, in his eyes, just another move in his power game, a way to pass the time.

I don't know how long I sat on the stone bench outside my home before someone appeared beside me. "Maeve?"

I looked up to see my father looking at me with concern.

I snapped back to reality, feeling the tear stains on my face. I quickly wiped them away and composed myself before standing up.

"Papa!" I threw my arms around him, not wanting him to see my swollen eyes.

My father gently patted my back, seemingly relieved.

"What are you doing sitting out here all alone? It's so cold, why didn't you go inside?"

I didn't know how to answer.

My father suddenly remembered something, and his tone grew serious. "By the way, Maeve, Don has also invited you to the dinner tonight. As a core member of the family, you must attend."

"Rhys wants you there. He says it's to help the girl feel more at ease."

My father's expression was troubled. He could clearly tell something was wrong.

I nodded lightly, affecting a casual tone. "Of course, Papa. I'll do my duty."

My father sighed, stroking my hair with a pained look.

He had always known about my feelings for Rhys.

After all, I openly displayed a photo of us on my nightstand, along with the meticulously saved gifts and a drawer full of love letters I had written but never sent.

My feelings for him were never a secret.

On our way back to the house, I broke the silence. "Papa, you're retiring as Consigliere next month. What would you say to us moving to Paris?"

My father was taken aback. I put my arm around his shoulder. "It's a completely different world from New York. You and Mama have been so busy all these years; you deserve to live in a more relaxed environment."

"Romantic Paris, the capital of fashion and art. I could build a career there, find more opportunities. It would be perfect, wouldn't it?"

Seeing the confusion on his face, I cut him off before he could ask. "Papa, I just want to play my piano in peace and be with you both."