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Chapter 13
Yesha pulled out a chair across from me, her perfectly manicured nails trailing across the polished wood. She didn’t wait for an invitation before settling in, crossing her legs with deliberate slowness.
“Primo told me everything.” She picked up my unused dessert spoon, examining her reflection. “Your little gallery scheme? So predictable. Did you really think you could outsmart him?”
My jaw clenched. Adrian remained motionless beside me, his presence steady but watchful.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised.” Yesha’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “He knew exactly what you were planning. In fact, you played right into his hands. The Castellanos? They’re already in Primo’s pocket now because of you.”
The pasta in my stomach turned to lead.
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“You know what the best part is?” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Every night, after dealing with all this tedious business, he comes home to me. And God, the way he fucks me…” She dragged out each word. “It’s like he’s channeling all his frustration. with you into pure animal passion.”
My knuckles went white around my fork. Adrian’s hand brushed my knee under the table.
“We’ve already planned our vacation.” Yesha examined her nails. “Right after this farce of a wedding, once the merger’s complete. Three weeks in the Maldives. Private villa, private beach.” Her eyes met mine, sharp with malice. “Just imagine, while you’re stuck playing the dutiful wife for the cameras, I’ll be the one in his bed. The one he really wants.”
I let out a low laugh, setting my fork down with deliberate care. “Oh, Yesha. Is that really the best you can do? Bragging about
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being the side piece?”
Her smile faltered.
“Let me explain something.” I leaned forward, matching her earlier posture. “While you’re spreading your legs in some villa, desperately trying to convince. yourself you matter, I’ll be the one signing the contracts. Making the decisions.
Standing beside him at every major family event as Mrs. Chromos.”
Adrian’s hand remained steady on my knee, grounding me.
“You see, that’s the difference between us. You think fucking him gives you power?” I traced the rim of my wine glass. “I’m the one who knows every detail of his
business. The one who meets with the family heads. The one whose name will be on every legal document.”
Yesha’s face tightened, a muscle jumping in her jaw.
“And sweetheart?” I took a slow sip of wine.
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“Those nights you’re so proud of? They’re just stress relief. The same way some men hit the gym or drink. You’re basically a human stress ball.” I set my glass down with a soft clink. “Convenient, disposable, and easily replaced.”
Her fingers trembled around the dessert
spoon.
“But please, keep telling yourself that a few weeks in the Maldives makes you special. It’s adorable, really. Like watching a child play dress–up with mommy’s clothes.” I smoothed my napkin.
Yesha’s composure cracked. She shifted in her seat, her knuckles white around the spoon. “It doesn’t matter. Within a year, you’ll be divorced and forgotten. He promised me – swore to me that once the merger’s complete, you’ll be out of the picture. Then I’ll be Mrs. Chromos.”
A laugh bubbled up from my chest, sharp and genuine. “Oh honey, is that what he told you?” I leaned back, catching the slight
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curve of Adrian’s lips from the corner of my
eye. “Tell me something – if he’s so willing to orchestrate a fake marriage with me, what makes you think your future wedding won’t be just another business
arrangement?”
The blood drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, no words coming out.
“After all,” I continued, savoring each word, “if he can fake a marriage once, he can do it again. And again. And again. However many times it takes to get what he wants.”
The dessert spoon clattered against the table as Yesha shot to her feet. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths, mascara smudging at the corners of her eyes.
“You’re wrong,” she snarled, but her voice wavered. “He loves me. You’re just a means to an end.”
“Maybe. But at least I know exactly what I am to him. Can you say the same?”
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curve of Adrian’s lips from the corner of my eye. “Tell me something – if he’s so willing to orchestrate a fake marriage with me, what makes you think your future wedding won’t be just another business
arrangement?”
The blood drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, no words. coming out.
“After all,” I continued, savoring each word, “if he can fake a marriage once, he can do it again. And again. And again. However many times it takes to get what he wants.”
The dessert spoon clattered against the table as Yesha shot to her feet. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths, mascara smudging at the corners of her eyes.
“You’re wrong,” she snarled, but her voice. wavered. “He loves me. You’re just a means to an end.”
“Maybe. But at least I know exactly what I am to him. Can you say the same?”
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Yesha grabbed her purse, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. “This isn’t over, Mitchell. You think you’re so clever, but you have no idea what’s coming.”
She stormed away from the table, nearly colliding with a maid in her haste to
escape.
As Yesha’s heels clicked away, Adrian turned to me with an appreciative smile. “That was quite impressive. You dismantled her piece by piece without raising your voice once.”
“Thank you.” I dabbed my lips with the napkin. “Sometimes the best way to handle a snake is to show them their own venom.”
We finished our dinner in comfortable
silence, the tension from Yesha’s visit melting away with each bite of the excellent food. We headed back to our respective rooms in the estate’s guest wing.
Later that night, I needed to discuss our next steps with Adrian. The corridor was
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quiet as I approached his door. A sliver of light spilled through the slight gap, and I paused when movement caught my eye.
My breath caught in my throat. Adrian stood there, fresh from the shower, water still glistening on his bare torso. But it wasn’t his physique that made my eyes widen – it was the intricate network of
tattoos covering his skin. I’d seen mafia tattoos before, but these were different. These were the marks of the highest echelons, symbols that only the most. powerful families would dare to wear.
Before I could process what I was seeing, Adrian’s low chuckle filled the room. He reached for his shirt, his back still turned
to the door.
“You know, Asteria, it’s not polite to peek.” His voice carried a hint of amusement. “Though I suppose I should have closed the door properly.”
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