Chapter 3

LIANA’s POV

I bury myself deeper under the silk duvet, face pressed into a pillow. Regardless of how bad last night went, this is literally the best sleep I have arguably ever had in my life.

I hear a knock, and I freeze. Maybe if I pretend I'm dead, they’ll forget that I exist and let me rot here in peace.

I have no such luck though, as I hear another polite knock. Then a soft but firm voice, “Miss Liana, Mr Blackwell requests your presence at breakfast. Now.”

I groan into the pillow, then flip onto my back and stare at the carved ceiling. Kaia hums lazily in my head, amused at my misery.

I drag myself out of bed, throw on a loose sweatshirt and leggings, and yank my curls into the messiest bun known to man. I don't even bother putting on makeup. If Damon wants to parade me around like some trophy stepdaughter, he can deal with the real version first.

Martha eyes my outfit, but wisely says nothing as she leads me through endless marble hallways that smell of freshly picked flowers and old secrets. The dining hall doors loom ahead like the gates of hell.

Inside, I freeze.

Celeste sits at Damon's right hand, back straight, hair in perfect curls, in flawless makeup at eight in the freaking morning. She looks expensive. Regal, even. For a split second, I didn't recognize her. Gone is the tired woman who used to cry into cheap wine glasses at two in the morning.

Now, she's all pearls and postures, her eyes flicking nervously to mine when she spots me hovering in the doorway.

At the head of the table sits Damon, reading something on a sleek tablet like he's the king of the world. He lifts his gaze to me, and gestures coolly to an empty seat. And there, lounging at the other end of the table like he owns the floor he's slouching on, is Jace. His hair is damp, like he just ran a hand through it after a shower.

He wears a crisp black shirt rolled at the sleeves that does nothing to hide the ink running up his forearm. Considering how casual he looked last night, he does clean up really nicely.

His eyes flick up when I walk in, green and unreadable. He doesn't smile. In fact, there's a giant scowl on his face as he watches me.

I match his gaze and force my legs to move, dropping into a chair as far away from him as possible.

Immediately we're all seated, the staff start piling up different arrays of food platters on the table. They ranged from freshly baked bread and pastries, to exotic fruits and nuts, pancakes, toasts, yoghurt, cheese, smoked ham, you name it.

I feel my mouth watering as the scent of the sweet and savory meal before us fills the air. I pile my plate up with everything that looks delicious. To think that there were nights were we had to scrap by on barely anything, and here was a feast in front of us that could feed a small army.

I feel my mother's eyes on me, as I stuff myself with food, but I don't care. I stuff more eggs in my mouth just for good measure, and hear Kaia giggle with glee. I wonder if I should be bothered that my wolf thrives on drama.

Damon clears his throat. His voice is calm, and perfectly measured, like every word is a rule carved in stone.

“As you are now part of this family, Liana, you'll conduct yourself accordingly. I value order. Respect. Legacy. The Blackwell name means something here. To our people. To our business. To our pack.”

My fork clinks against the fine china as I pretend to stab my scrambled eggs to death. Kaia huffs with amusement.

“You'll start school tomorrow,” Damon goes on, ignoring the look I shoot at him. “Your driver will pick you up at eight and return you home afterward. Your afternoons will be devoted to refining your image, etiquette. Spanish tutoring, and preparations for university applications. In this family, we do not raise children who drift without purpose.”

I nearly choked on my juice. I glance at my mother, but she's staring at her plate like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“Seriously?” I blurt out. You're going to dictate when I breathe, too?”

Damon's lips twitch just slightly, and I can't tell if it's amusement or irritation, but I'm guessing it's probably both.

“You are part of this house now. Part of me. How you present yourself reflects on all of us.” He says.

I can feel Jace’s state burning into my skin. When I risk a glance, he's watching me, expression hidden beneath his mask, but his eyes tell a different story of something like hatred…and desire. I shiver.

Damon keeps talking, unbothered by my death stare. “Next Saturday, the Blackwell Family will host a formal introduction ceremony at the Crimson Hollow Pack House. You will be presented to the region's elite. They will see you as my daughter, and you will stand beside us with pride.”

My stomach drops. This isn't just another marriage for my mother; this is a kingdom she married into. A legacy I'm now chained to whether I like it or not.

After spending so many years doing whatever she wanted, I thought I had finally found freedom, just to be put in the worst chain possible. A legacy? A freaking legacy clan?? What a joke.

Breakfast drags on forever, and I pick at my food. It lost its flavour immediately the bombshell was dropped. Who knew the price of delicious food and silk duvet would be my freedom? Me! And that was why I tried to escape. I glare at Jace, only to find him glaring back.

We sneak glares at each other, till the plates are finally cleared. Damon shifts his attention to Jace and his tone softens slightly.

“How is the progress at the family office?”

Jace shrugs, uninterested. “Fine.”

Damon's eyes narrow. “You'll take Liana out today. Show her Crimson Hollow at its finest. She needs to understand where she lives now.”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Jace's lips twitched. “Seriously? You put me on babysitting duties?”

“Yes, seriously.” Damon says. “She should see the town, meet the people, and be seen. You will make sure of that.” His tone was final.

Jace leans back and pushes his chair out. He stood as if the conversation bored him half to death, and then his eyes met mine.

Great, just what I needed. A tour of my new prison with my grumpy stepbrother, number one enemy, and fated mate who equally wants absolutely nothing to do with me.

Kaia seems to be really pleased with this arrangement. At least, that makes one of us.

I resist the urge to groan out loud as I stand, too, pushing my chair back. Jace's shoulders brush mine when he passes by. Warm, heavy, and infuriating.

I force myself not to flinch, not to look back. Not to admit how my heart flutters every time he's too close, because the only thing worse than being trapped in this house is being trapped with him.