The First Crack

We told my family two days later, at a dinner I arranged specifically for that purpose.

I expected shouting, Delphine's dramatics, or one of my older cousins demanding an explanation, or at the very least a room full of people talking over each other the way they had at the will reading.

Instead, when I said the words, “Julianii and I are engaged,” the table went completely silent.

Delphine's fork stopped halfway to her mouth. Even the housekeeper pouring wine at the sideboard paused for a fraction of a second too long, shock spreading across the table like a meal being shared.

Vesper didn't react at all.

That was what unsettled me more than any amount of noise would have. Everyone else at the table looked like they'd been slapped. Vesper simply set down his glass, folded his hands, and smiled like a man confirming something he already knew.

"Well……. "Congratulations."

I glanced at Julianii beside me. If the silence bothered him, he didn't show it. He simply reached over and rested his hand lightly over mine on the table, the exact gesture we'd rehearsed two nights ago in the study, and it landed so naturally that even I nearly forgot it wasn't real.

"Thank you," Julianii said, addressing the table generally. "I know this is sudden."

"Sudden is one word for it," Delphine murmured.

Vesper leaned forward slightly, his tone pleasant, almost warm. "Julianii, I have to ask purely out of family concern, of course, what exactly are your intentions here?"

"My intentions are to marry Sabine," Julianii said simply.

"Of course, But you understand our position. Three years of rather aggressive competition between your company and ours, and now, quite abruptly, an engagement. Forgive me if I'm curious about the timing."

"Grief has a way of clarifying priorities," Julianii said. "I imagine you understand that better than most, given how quickly you positioned yourself to manage Sabine's company the moment her grandmother passed."

The table went quiet again, differently this time. I felt something close to admiration flicker through me before I could stop it.

Vesper's smile didn't waver, but something behind his eyes went sharp. "That's not remotely the same thing."

"Isn't it? We're both responding to sudden change in the family. You simply responded with a trust structure. I responded with a proposal." Julianii's voice stayed even, almost gentle, the same tone he use in closing a difficult negotiation. "I think you’ll understand wanting to secure what matters most, and quickly, before someone else has the chance to take it."

I watched Vesper adjust, the way I watched him do in board meetings a hundred times before, except this time he wasn't the one controlling the conversation.

"How romantic," Vesper said finally, lifting his glass in a small, mocking toast.

Julianii didn't respond. He didn't need to. He'd already said everything required, giving away nothing Vesper could use, and made it clear without raising his voice that he wasn't someone to be handled easily.

I sat there for the rest of the dinner watching him answer question after question about how we met, when he knew, why now, each answer measured, specific enough to sound true, faintly enough to protect us both. He never overplayed affection. He never reached for me more than the moment called for. He simply managed the entire room the way he managed a negotiation, three steps ahead of everyone at the table, including me.

For the first time in three years, I understood exactly why I'd never once beaten him cleanly.

After dinner, Vesper found me alone in the hallway outside the dining room.

"A word," he said, and it wasn't a request.

I followed him into the sitting room, already bracing for something.

"I'll be direct with you," he said, closing the door behind us. "I don't trust him."

"You've made that clear."

"I don't think you understand what I mean." He studied me for a moment, his expression losing some of its usual polish. "Your grandmother knew what happened between our family and the Marchettis. If Julianii is getting close to you, Sabine, he isn't doing it because he suddenly forgave us."

Something cold settled in my chest. "Forgave us for what?"

"Ask him."

"I'm asking you."

"It isn't my story to tell." Vesper's voice had gone quiet, careful in a way that didn't match his earlier confidence. "Just be careful. That's all I'll say."

"That's not an answer, Vesper. If you know something about Julianii's family, and it involves ours, I have a right to know what it is."

"You have a right to protect yourself," he said. "I'd start there."

He left the room before I could push further, and I stood alone in the sitting room feeling more unsettled than I had all evening. Whatever satisfaction I'd felt watching Julianii outsmart him at dinner had evaporated completely.

I found Julianii outside on the terrace an hour later.

He wasn't looking at the city, which was unusual. He was looking down at his phone, at what I realized, as I got closer, was an old photograph. A family, standing outside a building I didn't recognize, everyone smiling in a way that suggested the photo was taken long before whatever had eventually gone wrong.

"Is that your family?" I asked.

He closed the screen immediately. "Yes."

"I don't think I've ever seen a photo of them."

"There's no reason you would have."

I stepped up beside him at the railing, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of his cologne beneath the night air. "Vesper mentioned something tonight. About our families. About something that happened."

Something shifted in his jaw. "Your family's business dealings destroyed mine, years ago. Marchetti Holdings barely survived it. My father didn't."

I remembered it now, faintly, the way you remember something you heard about once and never thought to ask more about. A deal that collapsed. A company that nearly folded. I'd been young enough that it had felt like distant corporate history rather than anything that touched my own life.

"Is that why you hate my family," I asked quietly. "Is that what all of this actually is?"

He didn't answer right away. He kept his eyes on the city, his hands braced against the railing, something working behind his expression that I couldn't fully read.

"I never said I hated you," he said finally.

I looked at him. It was the first time in three years he had drawn a line between me and the Castellane name, separated the two like they weren't automatically the same thing.

"I had nothing to do with what happened to your family," I said. "I was a child."

"I know."

The words came out quieter than anything else he'd said all night, almost like he hadn't meant to say them at all. He looked briefly startled by his own admission, something flickering across his face before he could smooth it back into the composed expression I was used to.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked back inside.

I stayed on the terrace, the night air cooling against my skin, his words repeating in my head.

I never said I hated you.

I know.

If he knew I had nothing to do with what happened to his family, then why had he spent three years across boardrooms treating me like someone worth defeating? Why had he agreed to my proposal so quickly, without hesitation, without asking for anything obvious in return? And why had his voice sounded almost gentle when he told me he didn't blame me?

I looked toward the glass doors he'd disappeared through.

For the first time, I wondered if I had spent three years fighting a version of Julianii that didn't actually exist.

I glanced down at the ring on my finger, the one we had chosen together for appearances, and it suddenly felt heavier than it had that morning.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

A message from Julianii.

“You should stop trying to understand me tonight.”

I stared at the screen, my heart beating faster.

A second message appeared beneath it.

You'll only ask questions you're not ready to hear the answers to.

I looked toward the house, toward the closed door of the study where I knew he'd gone.

And for the first time since agreeing to become his fake fiancée, I wondered whether the dangerous part of this arrangemen

t wasn't pretending to love Julianii Marchetti.

Maybe it was discovering that I actually wanted to know the man underneath the rivalry.