TWELVE

The tabloids had finally grown tired of her.

For the first time in weeks, no flashing cameras waited outside the Castell gates. The media had moved on to fresher scandals, leaving Hazel to her silence, a silence she guarded as if it were gold.

Inside the mansion, everything shimmered with practiced tranquility. White orchids lined the hallways, faint music drifted from somewhere downstairs, and the smell of freshly baked croissants lingered in the air, Dimitri’s doing, of course.

Hazel stepped into the dining room just as he finished setting the table. Two plates. Two cups. A small bowl of fruit, sliced precisely.

He turned toward her with that effortless smile.

“Morning, amore mio.”

“Spare me the Italian,” she said mildly, sitting down. “You’ve been in Rome once.”

“Twice,” he corrected, pouring her coffee. “And I picked up enough to sound romantic.”

“Romance doesn’t work on me.”

“I’m aware,” he replied smoothly, sliding the cup toward her. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

Hazel stirred her coffee in silence. His charm was relentless, a soft, teasing tide that never quite receded. For all his playfulness, there was calculation in how he hovered near her, yet never too close; how he served breakfast himself, though the staff could have done it better.

He wanted to be seen trying.

And Hazel, ever the strategist, wanted to see how far he’d go.

By noon, the mansion buzzed with visitors.

A handful of elite women, the type who could ruin reputations with a whisper, gathered in the glass conservatory for what the press called a “private pre-engagement luncheon.” Hazel hadn’t invited them; Edwin had. Appearances mattered. The Castell name demanded elegance even in captivity.

Hazel glided through the crowd with her usual grace, every movement measured. Conversations halted as she entered, her presence too sharp, too composed to ignore.

“Miss Castell,” one of the women cooed. “You look divine. Congratulations again on the engagement.”

“Thank you,” Hazel replied, smiling faintly. “It seems the world refuses to stop congratulating me.”

“And Dimitri?” another asked, tone sweetly curious. “He’s quite the catch, isn’t he?”

Hazel’s eyes softened. “He is. Though I prefer to think of him as… disciplined.”

Polite laughter followed. None of them understood what she meant. They didn’t need to.

Then, almost on cue, Dimitri entered the conservatory, immaculate in a pale suit, a single rose tucked into his pocket. He moved through the women easily, offering polite nods, subtle compliments. A performer in his natural habitat.

But his eyes, unmistakably, found Hazel.

He walked to her, kissed her hand with deliberate care, and whispered something low enough for only her to hear.

“Should I play the doting fiancé now, or save it for dinner?”

Hazel didn’t blink. “Do what you do best.”

He smiled, then turned to the room, hand still lightly on her waist. “Thank you all for coming. Hazel and I are honored.”

He said Hazel and I with such practiced warmth that even she almost believed it.

After the luncheon, Hazel returned to her study, only to find Dimitri already there, leaning against her desk, scrolling through his phone.

“You handled them well,” he said without looking up. “I think you even scared two of them into silence.”

“That was the goal,” she said, taking off her earrings.

He chuckled softly. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

“Beautiful, too.”

Hazel paused. “Which one are you trying to use to distract me?”

“Both,” he admitted, smiling. “But mostly the truth.”

She gave him a long, unreadable look. “You play at sincerity well.”

He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Maybe it’s not a game this time.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I mean it this time.”

“Then prove it.”

Dimitri tilted his head. “How?”

“Stop lying,” Hazel said simply. “To me, to the world, to yourself.”

He studied her for a moment, the faintest flicker of something genuine crossing his face before it hardened again.

“I’ll try,” he said finally. “But don’t expect miracles.”

“I don’t,” Hazel replied. “Just consistency.”

That night, a dinner was held at a luxury hotel, another showcase arranged by Edwin’s advisors to smooth over board relations. Hazel and Dimitri arrived arm in arm, every inch the perfect couple.

The chandelier lights bathed them in gold. Cameras flashed discreetly. Waiters floated like ghosts.

Throughout the evening, Hazel performed her role with quiet brilliance, smiles calibrated, laughter precisely timed. Dimitri matched her perfectly, never overstepping, never outshining. Together, they were symmetry personified, the ideal image of wealth and power.

But behind every smile was a test.

When one of the socialites brushed her fingers against Dimitri’s arm, Hazel watched closely. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away from Hazel. Instead, he gently excused himself, poured Hazel another glass of wine, and murmured,

“Still watching?”

“Always.”

He smirked. “Then I’ll make it worth your while.”

The comment should have irritated her. It didn’t.

It intrigued her instead.

Later, in the car ride home, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t heavy; it was charged, like the pause before a storm that might never come.

Dimitri finally broke it. “You’re testing me.”

“I test everyone.”

“Am I passing?”

“Barely.”

He smiled faintly. “Then I’ll study harder.”

Hazel turned to the window, hiding the ghost of a smile that almost escaped her.

When they reached the mansion, Dimitri followed her to the study, stopping just before she entered. His tone, when he spoke, was stripped of performance.

“I meant what I said, Hazel. I’m not trying to win. I just… want to understand you.”

She turned slowly. “Understand me?”

He nodded. “You live like a fortress. But I’ve seen the cracks.”

Her voice softened, barely perceptible. “You mistake discipline for damage.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But I still want to see what’s underneath.”

Hazel studied him for a long, still moment, the way his voice carried no arrogance, just quiet curiosity.

Then, for the first time, she said something she didn’t plan.

“Don’t get too close, Dimitri. I bite.”

He smiled, almost sadly. “Then I’ll take my chances.”

And for a fleeting second, before the world and its noise returned, Hazel believed he meant it.

That night, alone in her room, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, calm, poised, unreadable. Yet beneath that control was something dangerous: not vulnerability, but interest.

She’d built her life on indifference. And now, against her own rules, she’d found someone persistent enough to test it.

In the distance, she could hear Dimitri’s faint laughter drifting from the garden, smooth and effortless as ever.

But for the first time, Hazel didn’t analyze it.

She simply listened.