Five: Conflicting Hearts

Five: Conflicting Hearts

Cecilia POV

The limo hummed beneath us, a low vibration that seeped into my bones like the afterglow of the gala’s chaos. The leather seat was cool against my skin, the scent of polished marble and expensive leather filling the air. I sank deeper into the seat, my gown pooling around me in silken waves, the fabric shimmering under the soft interior lights. I was frustrated and disappointed. I didn’t want to leave the gala early, but I had known I didn’t have a say the moment Dad started pulling me away. There was no arguing when he got like that.

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, Vegas’s neon heartbeat fading as we slipped away from the Strip toward Henderson. The hum of the engine and the distant glow of the city created a sense of isolation, a cocoon of luxury that felt both comforting and confining. Dad’s hand gripped the armrest a little too tight, his knuckles pale against the dark polish of his shoes. His silence was heavy, a stark contrast to the usual easy banter between us.

Treyvan lounged across from me, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie loosened like he’d just escaped a brawl rather than a black-tie event. His grin was all mischief, eyes sparkling with that brotherly glint that always made me feel safe, even when the world felt like it was tilting.

“So, Cici, spill it,” Treyvan drawled, kicking his foot lightly against mine. “That dance with Mr. Brooding Billionaire. Did he step on your toes or just your heart? You were blushing redder than the slot machines back there.”

Heat crept up my neck again, unbidden, as fragments of the evening replayed in my mind. Zacian’s hand on my waist, firm yet electric, guiding me through the waltz like he owned the rhythm of the world. His eyes, those captivating storms, had locked onto mine, peeling back layers I didn’t know I had. I shook it off, forcing a laugh that came out lighter than I felt.

“Oh, please. It was just a dance, Trey. He wasn’t broody. He was just… intense, that’s all.”

Dad shifted, his gaze flicking to the rearview where our driver kept his eyes on the road. “Zacian’s always intense, Cici. We left early for a reason. His shadow is stretched too far these days.” His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent, a thread of steel that made my stomach twist.

The statement hung in the air, heavy and unresolved. I bit my lip, looking out the window as the city lights bled into the darkness.

"What about the auction?" I pressed, changing the subject and leaning forward. "That necklace for the orphanage fund. Did it go high? I poured my soul into that gala."

Treyvan chuckled, rubbing his chin. "High? Cici, it was climbing like a rocket. Last I heard, bids were pushing twenty grand. Your words hit 'em right in the feels. Had those stuffed shirts emptying their pockets faster than a Vegas jackpot."

I smiled gratefully at my brother’s playful reassurances. Relief bloomed warm in my chest, chasing away the chill of Dad's warning. The foundation needed the funds. New wing, new books, safe play spaces, a chance for those kids to dream bigger than their circumstances. With it, Stanford felt closer with every dollar raised, my ticket to a life beyond these gilded cages.

As the limo purred onto our estate’s winding drive, the mansion’s lights winking like distant stars, that electric pull from the dance lingered. Zacian’s cologne, faint leather and spice, ghosted my senses. Why had his stare felt like a promise… and a hidden thrill all in one? I had grown up in the lap of luxury, with a penthouse in the city and this sprawling estate, but tonight felt different. Tonight, I had danced with the forbidden, and it had left its mark on me. A relationship I would never dream of starting, a hidden thrill I wouldn’t admit to my family.

The thought lingered as we pulled up to the grand entrance. Octavia met us at the door. Her apron was crisp, her smile as welcoming as fresh-baked bread. “Dinner’s ready, mijos. I made it special. It’ll warm your hearts after that party.”

The dining room enveloped us in golden lamplight, the scent of rosemary-roasted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes wrapping around my hunger like a hug. Crystal glasses caught the flicker of candles, and for a moment, the tension eased. Dad at the head of the table, Treyvan to my left, me in my usual spot between them. Family, simple as that. But even here, in our sanctuary, the air hummed with unspoken edges.

"Cecilia, that speech," Dad said, passing the rolls with a proud squeeze of my shoulder. "You had the room eating out of your hand. Bids soared because of you. I'm damn proud."

My cheeks warmed again, genuine this time. I felt like he was exaggerating, but his praise always felt that way. "Thanks, Daddy. It felt good. Seeing their faces light up, and knowing it helps those kids. I was thinking…maybe next year, I could start a literacy program? Story hours, tutors..."

Treyvan snorted, piling his plate high. "Literacy? With your glow-up tonight, Cici, you could auction off moon rocks and they'd pay. Speaking of, that necklace? Twenty-five now, I bet. Zacian probably threw in a zero just to watch you squirm."

Had Zacian bid? I didn’t remember seeing him make one. Treyvan had to be lying, just making things up to rile me up. "Yeah, right. And pigs fly," I shot back.

He laughed. "Never say never Cici. But I still can't get over it," Treyvan said, gesturing at me with his fork. "I'm looking at you and I'm like, who is this? I miss the braces and the messy ponytail. This elegant woman is suspicious. It’s giving Cinderella vibes, but with better shoes."

"I'm sitting right here, you jerk," I rolled my eyes, stabbing at a green bean. "And I didn't exactly get a makeover from a fairy godmother. It's called hairspray and adrenaline."

"Adrenaline looks good on you. Dangerous, even," Treyvan grinned, dodging as I tried to kick him under the table. "Hey! I'm just saying. You strutted out there like you owned the place. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been practicing in the mirror."

"She didn't need practice," Dad interjected, his voice firm but warm. "She has grace in her blood. It's not about the strut, Trey. It's about the heart. And she moved that room tonight. You shine so bright sometimes it blinds me. I just hate thinking about all those eyes on you. It’s... a lot to take."

"Preach, Pops," Treyvan saluted him with his roll. "But seriously, Dad, save the grizzly bear act. She’s not made of glass. Though, she did have half the room tripping over themselves. You should have seen the line of guys trying to get her attention at the refreshments."

"Treyvan," Dad warned, though his lips twitched.

"I'm just saying!" Treyvan held up his hands. "I had to threaten three different guys just to get her a water. 'Back off, buddy, she's armed with a fountain pen and she knows how to use it.' I earned my big brother stripes tonight."

"You're dramatic," I laughed, shaking my head at him. "They were just being polite."

"Polite?" Trey scoffed. "Cici, they were looking at you like you were the last slice of pizza at a frat party. It’s a good thing I was there."

"It is," Dad murmured, his smile fading into something more serious. "It is a very good thing. Especially with Zacian there."

The mention of his name made my fork pause. "Zacian was just being nice. It was for show, or something. To support the family."

"Nice? Zacian?" Dad let out a dry chuckle, though his eyes remained watchful. "Zacian doesn't do 'nice.' He does 'effective.' And profitable. If he was looking at you, he wanted something."

"Like what? To get me to trip over my own heels?" I muttered, grabbing my napkin.

"Probably more along the line of wanting to get you out of that dress," Treyvan muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Treyvan!" I gasped, throwing a roll at him.

He caught it easily, laughing. "I'm joking! Mostly. But seriously, Cici, the guy is dangerous. You looked like a rabbit staring down a wolf."

"Trey!" I swatted his arm, laughter bubbling despite the flutter in my belly. I couldn't help how my mind wandered, despite myself. The way he'd leaned in during the dance, voice like velvet over gravel. Seductive, flirtatious, as if he saw straight through my polite smiles to the girl who still believed in fairy tales.

"He was just being… charming," I insisted weakly.

Dad's fork paused mid-air, his eyes sharpening. "Charming isn't in Zacian's vocabulary, sweetheart. But let's not dwell. Eat up. Tomorrow's another day."

The banter flowed easy after that, but their words lingered in my mind. What sparked this drastic shift? Dad had always spoken so highly of Zacian, treating him like a brother. But tonight, there was a coldness in his voice, a warning in his eyes. It didn’t make sense. Zacian had been nothing but kind and charming to me, making me feel seen in a way he never had before. Yet, Dad's reaction felt like a slap in the face, a stark contrast to the warmth I’d felt on the dance floor. I didn’t know what to think or how to react. All I knew was that something had shifted, and I was left grappling with the aftermath, confused and uncertain.