CHAPTER 6.

Sylvester’s POV.

The second I caught the fear flickering across Natasha’s face, I moved. Amara was spilling too much and I didn’t stop to think about it.

I crossed the room in a few strides, reached for her hand, and wrapped my fingers around hers, anchoring her to me.

Her hand was cold, trembling slightly, but she didn’t pull away. She just stood there, frozen, like she didn’t know what to do next. It didn’t matter what Amara was trying to stir up. It didn’t matter what anyone else at that table was thinking.

Natasha was my wife now and I wasn’t going to let anyone instill an unnecessary fear into her or let her be humiliated while I stood by and watched.

Without a word, I led her to the dining table, weaving us through the heavy silence that had fallen over the room.

I pulled out a chair for her. "Sit," I said, keeping my voice low but firm.

She lowered herself onto the chair almost mechanically, her posture stiff, her eyes cast down like she was bracing for another blow.

I stayed standing behind her, grounding her the only way I could. “This is Natasha,” I announced, my voice cutting through the uncomfortable tension that thickened the air.

“My wife.”

The reaction was immediate, almost comical if it hadn’t been so sickening. The widened eyes, the exchanged glances, and the judgment hanging in the room like a bad stench. I didn’t give a damn about any of them.

All I cared about was making sure Natasha knew she wasn’t standing alone in this house. Across the table, Amara gave a short, ugly laugh under her breath. She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, watching like she was waiting for a spectacle.

"Of course, I know her from the slums," she said loudly, making no effort to hide her disdain.

"Didn’t even graduate with good results. And now she’s supposed to represent our family?"

I felt Natasha shrink next to me, almost like she was trying to make herself smaller, hoping she could disappear if she just folded into herself enough. My fists clenched at my sides.

“It doesn't matter, Amara. She is my wife now,” I said, forcing the anger down, keeping my voice even.

“And if you have a problem with that, keep it to yourself.”

Amara’s mouth twisted, but she didn’t say anything else. She knew better than to push me when I was standing my ground like this.

I turned then and introduced Natasha to my grandfather, hoping to steer the evening back onto some sort of respectful track.

He got up slowly, a kind smile pulling at his face, and shook Natasha’s hand as if she wasn’t the scandal they all clearly thought she was.

“Welcome to the family,” he said, and though his words were simple, the weight behind them wasn’t lost on me.

“Finally,” he added, giving me a look I couldn’t quite read.

Natasha nodded, the barest movement of her head, her voice too small to catch when she murmured her thanks.

She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, and God, I didn’t blame her. If I could have asked we leave this nightmare of dinner, I would have. Still, we had to endure it, just for tonight.

Dinner passed in heavy silence, without a single real conversation. Natasha barely touched her food. She kept her gaze down. By the time it was over, I stood and helped her up again, keeping her close, shielding her the best I could as we made our way to the room assigned to us.

"You should stay here tonight," I said as we entered. "Avoid the rest of them if you can. I’ll be out."

She nodded without looking at me, her hands folding over her stomach as if she needed to hold herself together.

I lingered for a moment, wanting to say something — anything — to make it better.

“Did you and Amara know each other before?” I asked and she managed to nod. She didn’t look like she wanted to talk, so I turned and left, my chest tight.

Amara knowing Natasha was bad news. I knew her type — and she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. I had barely made it halfway down the hall when the butler approached me, bowing slightly.

"Sir," he said, "your grandfather wishes to see you."

I nodded once, already mentally preparing myself for whatever lecture was waiting for me this time.

Inside the study, my grandfather wasted no time getting to the point. "You remember the family rules," he said, watching me carefully over steepled fingers.

"Once the marriage crosses the three-month mark, it’s permanent. No annulments. No divorce. You understand that?"

The words dropped like stones into my stomach. Of course, I remembered.

I had grown up hearing it repeated like a mantra. But in the chaos of needing to fix everything — the company, my standing, my place in this family, I had pushed that particular rule to the back of my mind.

My jaw tightened. He leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable.

"I hope you didn’t act rashly, getting into a temporary marriage with her," he said.

"We won’t tolerate a repeat of last time."

And with that, he dismissed me, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my racing mind.

I walked back toward the guest wing, my steps slower this time.

I had promised Natasha a year, a clean, easy exit when all of this was over. If she found out about the family rule... if she realized she'd be trapped after three months...

No. I couldn’t let her find out. I needed at least a year to establish everything — and for that, we had to stay married.

Just before reaching our room, something caught my eye. It was Natasha and Amara, standing halfway up the staircase.

I paused, frowning when I spotted them.

I couldn’t hear everything, but I caught the important parts. "You’re not even his type. This is just some arrangement and at the end he is paying you, isn’t he?"

I saw Natasha stiffen, saw her grip the railing like it was the only thing holding her up. Amara leaned in a little closer, her smile sharp as a knife.

"And if that’s true," she murmured, "How long is the agreement? Do you even know what our family marriage rules are?"

My heart slammed against my ribs. She was opening her mouth again. She was too close, too close to saying everything. I didn’t stop to think. I moved fast. I rushed down the hall toward them.

I didn’t even have a plan. All I knew was if I didn’t get there in time, everything I had gambled on could unravel right here, tonight.