Episode Four—Playing Commoner

Aurelia

Something was wrong before the man even opened his mouth.

"Yes?" His voice came out thick and gravelly, and he stared at me a few seconds too long. "Who are you?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but hurried footsteps interrupted from somewhere inside the house.

"Gregory? Who's at the door?" a feminine voice called out, edged with panic.

Seconds later, a woman appeared, an apron tied around her neck and waist, wisps of hair escaping to frame her flustered face.

Recognition flickered across her eyes the moment she saw me. Then it vanished—swallowed by something colder that I couldn't name.

I frowned.

Aunt Evelyn. It had to be her. This was her address, and Adrian had confirmed she was expecting us. So why did she look at me like I was a stranger off the street?

My stomach twisted with unease, but I extended my hand anyway, mustering the polite smile Papa had drilled into me. "Hi, I'm Aurelia. I'm your—"

"My cousin's daughter." Her voice came out loud as she cut me off, and she cleared her throat sharply. "Of course I know who you are. You don't have to introduce yourself to me, silly girl."

My brows pinched together in confusion.

Her cousin's daughter? I was her niece—her late sister's daughter. The relative Papa had only mentioned minutes before forcing me to leave the Castle.

I shook my head, certain she'd confused me with someone else. "No," I corrected her. "You're my aunt. My mom's sister."

Evelyn's eyes cut sideways to the man beside her, something like caution sparking in them before vanishing too quickly to read. "Of course," she said, nodding with grim solemnity. "We're all like family here. No sense splitting hairs over cousin or niece when the bond runs deeper than that."

Why did she keep insisting on *cousin*?

Before I could correct her a third time, she pivoted to Adrian. "And this must be your fiancé?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "My cousin told me all about him."

My jaw dropped. Fiancé?

I shot a look at Adrian, searching for some reaction, but his expression stayed maddeningly blank. "No—" I shook my head hard, hands flying up between us. "You have it all wrong. He's not my—"

Evelyn talked right over me, turning instead to the other man. "Remember the cousin I told you about, honey? And her little girl who ran off and came crawling back with some man in tow?"

She clicked her tongue, sliding me a look dripping with disappointment. "She begged me to let them stay here for a while. What was I supposed to do—turn away my family?"

Gregory's face went from a scowl into a bright smile as he shook his head. "Of course not. Family is always welcome." He extended his hand toward me. "Gregory Thomas. Evelyn's husband. Stay as long as you need."

Husband?

My thoughts spun as I shook his hand on autopilot. Papa never said a word about Evelyn having a husband. And why did she keep looking at me like I was someone else entirely—like I was a stranger she'd rehearsed a story for?

Hadn't Papa called ahead?

Hadn't he told her we were coming?

The letter.

The realization hit me so hard I nearly flinched, and I pulled my hand back from Gregory's grip. I couldn't even remember carrying it after I'd read what was inside. But I could call Papa. I could tell him Evelyn had mistaken me for someone I wasn't.

"Come on in." Evelyn's fingers clamped around my wrist, tight enough to sting. "You must be starving. Dinner's ready—you're just in time."

She yanked me forward before I could protest, hauling me down the hallway while my feet scrambled to keep up. I twisted around, throwing Adrian a sharp, pleading look for him to say something or do something

He didn't.

I might as well have been staring at a brick wall.

Aunty Evelyn dragged me to a dining room plastered with pastel wallpaper. She pulled out a chair and shoved me down onto it, her hands pressing hard into my shoulders. "Sit."

She spun toward Adrian and jabbed a finger at him. "You. Help me in the kitchen."

Adrian nodded—no protest, no hesitation, even though I braced myself for one—and followed her out.

That left just me and Gregory, the silence between us stretching thin and uncomfortable.

I stared at my hands for what felt like an eternity, a lump swelling in my throat. I didn't know what to say or where to even begin. Did he know about Mama? Did he know Papa? Could I trust him at all, given that he was Aunty Evelyn's husband?

"So…" He broke the silence first, his voice thick and scratchy. "My wife gets a little forgetful sometimes. She didn't tell me you were coming."

My head snapped up, my forehead creasing in surprise.

She'd told me she'd already told him.

Gregory waved a hand, chuckling low and reassuring. "It's fine. Happens all the time. Honestly, I didn't even know she had a cousin until you showed up on the doorstep."

Oh.

My fingers twisted together as I bit down on my bottom lip, panic rising in my chest. What was I supposed to say to that? That she'd mistaken me for someone else entirely?

Thankfully, she returned with Adrian just then, both of them carrying heaps of food that smelled so rich my stomach growled audibly. She set the dishes down—soup, chicken, rice—and began serving portions onto four plates.

Adrian dropped into the seat beside me, too close, his arm brushing mine. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms and a warm tingle spread just under my skin.

Being in his presence had an effect on me that I did not want to acknowledge.

Because I was smarter than that—than holding on to naive teenage feelings.

"Hey," I hissed at him under my breath. "Why did you let her call you my fiancé?"

Adrian shrugged, infuriatingly casual in his tone. "Should I have told her that I wasn't?”

“Uhm, yes??” I replied sharply. “Because you’re not my fiance. You’re my bodyguard and I don’t want anybody getting the wrong idea about us.”

He nodded slowly. “Tell her, then,” he said evenly. “She’s your family. You can tell her that you came all the way with a bodyguard to look after you, because you don’t trust her to keep you safe.”

Anger flared hot in my chest. I could tell he was being sarcastic. Because in his eyes, I was still the spoiled little princess who couldn’t do anything right.

I folded my arms and glared at Adrian. "You're the one who didn't want anything to do with me. You made that painfully clear when you walked out six years ago."

Adrian said nothing. He just sat there, his jaw tight and eyes fixed forward. His silence made my blood boil even hotter.

I forced myself to look away, to swallow the fight rising in my throat. I was too hungry, too exhausted, to give him the satisfaction of an argument.

Besides, he didn't deserve another second of my energy.

I grabbed my spoon and reached for the soup bowl—only for him to snatch it straight out of my fingers.

"Hey!" I snapped, whirling on him. "What was that for? Am I suddenly not allowed to eat?"

He ignored me completely.

Instead, he dipped my spoon into my bowl, lifted it to his own mouth, and took a slow, deliberate sip, his eyes never leaving mine. I blinked, stunned at his act as heat rose to my cheeks, turning them red.

"Why are you eating my food when you have your own right in front of you?" I demanded, my voice rising.

He took another unhurried sip, ignoring me. Had he lost his mind? I tried collecting the spoon back, but he only lifted it up, higher than I could easily reach.

“Cut it out,” I hissed under my breath when he switched the spoon to his other hand. “If your plan is to make me look like a spoiled brat in front of my aunt, I’ll make you regret it.”

The corner of Adrian’s mouth curled into what I could’ve sworn was a taunting smirk.

Oh, he was doing it, wasn’t it?

I never fought back when we were younger, because I had a stupid crush. Now? I was willing to toss the bowl of warm soup in his face.

At least out there, there were no reports to take pictures of me.

Then, finally, he held the spoon out to me. "It's fine now," he said quietly, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance that somehow took out all the fight in me. "You can eat."

I can eat.

It’s fine now.

The words didn’t make sense as I took the spoon, our fingers brushing and my skin humming from the brief contact. Evelyn and her husband kept eating, ignoring us entirely, as if we weren’t even in the room.

Only when I took the first sip did something click.

I turned to him sharply, my eyes widening. “Were you testing for poison?” I hissed.

“Poison?” Adrian arched a brow, his mouth curling like I’d said something absurd. “You think your aunt poisoned you on the first day she met you?”

It sounded insane when he said it out loud, and I felt like a fool for even thinking it. But something didn’t add up.

“Then why did you taste it?” I shot back, leaning closer. “You already had yours.”

Adrian’s shoulders lifted in a slow, careless shrug, his eyes never leaving mine. “I wanted to see if yours tasted better,” he said, his voice low and mocking. “Princesses get special treatment, don’t they?”

I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

And then I shoved the rest of the soup down my throat, not caring if it burned. It was the only way I could stop myself from saying something I was definitely going to regret, to Adrian Thorne.

Because he wasn’t just an asshole. He was a special one that I wished I could magically erase from existence.