The music burst through the air, vibrating through the walls and into my bones. The scent of expensive perfume and cigar smoke hit my nostrils. I rubbed at my nose.
I hated the smell of cigars.
I took in everything: the half-dressed women who wore little to no clothing, their laughter echoing across the hall, the men standing in groups all in black suits. Tattoos symbolizing the Santos family crawled along their necks, their eyes cold, assessing like a pack of wolves.
I leaned into Kaden on instinct, shrieking as the hushed whispers stopped. Every person in the hall zeroed in on me, cradled in Kaden's arms. I swallowed hard.
"Did everyone have to stare?" I muttered into the hollow of his neck.
Kaden paid no mind to the attention; a polite smile graced his lips as he acknowledged the room, but it just felt off, like he was performing, because at the same time, he was staring blankly at everyone.
He took long strides, carrying us toward the head table. And that's when I saw her, Stacie. Her ice-blue eyes were narrowed to slits as she watched like a hawk, her gaze lingering on the shirt, his shirt. Her knuckles were white where they clutched the wine glass, so tight I was surprised it didn't shatter.
Looking away from her before she murdered me with her stare, I rolled my eyes only for them to land on Ace.
He was sprawled at the far end of the table, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hand. His green eyes found mine, holding them for a handful of seconds, then, as if I were a boring painting he'd already memorized, his attention returned to the blonde nestled on his lap, the same woman who had been with Stacie. A smirk played on her red lips as she trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of Ace's throat, her eyes challenging me over his shoulder. I lifted a single eyebrow.
She couldn't be for real right now...
It hadn't even been a day yet. Why would I feel anything for Ace at all? I swear she had some screws loose upstairs. But anyway, this was great news to me. I wanted him as far away as possible.
She was helping a girl out. I held in a snort.
Kaden took his seat, settling me onto his lap as if I were an accessory. My legs were still locked around his waist, a position that drew knowing, smug looks from the other men at the table.
He just had to be handsy, didn't he?
He shifted, adjusting me so I was perched more securely on his thighs.
Maids and servants ran around serving steaming food and bottles of alcohol. A young maid with short brown hair set a plate before us, roasted lamb surrounded by vegetables. As she poured red wine into Kaden's glass, her gaze focused on the task, avoiding any eye contact, her hands trembling. A pang of sadness hit me.
God.
I saw myself. That was me not long ago. I held in a painful chuckle. Not even long ago.
Yesterday.
Serving the Riveras, my shoulders hunched in an attempt to make myself smaller, less noticeable, hoping to escape the hungry eyes that had nothing to do with food.
My fingers itched to reach out, to calm her down, to do anything, but I clenched them in the fabric of Kaden's shirt.
It would make everything ten times worse.
Then, a new sound cut through the air, a wet, gagging one. My head turned instinctively toward the noise.
I fucking regretted it.
Ace had the blonde on her knees between his legs, his hand fisted cruelly in her hair as he moved her head in a rough, rhythmic motion. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted. I flinched away, my stomach roiling.
They were doing it here, in the open, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No one else at the table even glanced their way; a normal Saturday in the Santos mansion.
The wet, choking sounds continued, twisting my insides.
This was the man I was married to.
Kaden's hand clamped around my chin, pulling my focus back to him. His brown eyes were hard, no smile, no usual smirk, just hard. I watched him, just like prey would watch a predator, waiting for him to strike. But he simply looked away, picked up his fork and knife, cut a piece of the lamb, and held it to my lips.
"Open," he commanded, his voice low.
I furrowed my eyebrows. First, those maids literally bathed me; he carried me like I don't have two functional legs, now this? Was doing anything for myself against the rules? I took a breath in.
"I said open," he said again, this time sharper, a hint of warning behind his voice. I parted my lips. The meat was tender, bursting with savory flavor that flooded my tongue. I chewed slowly, enjoying every single bite.
Fuck, this was delicious.
At the Riveras, we weren't allowed to eat much, and the little we got consisted of stews and stale bread, a dessert if we got lucky, which was usually when the Riveras hosted grand parties or when Isabella left some scraps on her plate. I would literally shove everything in my mouth before any other maid caught me in the kitchen. Miss Amy caught me a few times, my mouth stuffed like a chipmunk; she would playfully slap me on the shoulder, telling me how silly I was. My lips stretched into a smile.
I miss her.
She felt like a mother at times. She combed through my hair when it got tangled, when I fell ill. She made her special hot, yummy broth.
Kaden brought another spoonful to my mouth. I accepted it, my eyes fluttering closed as I savored it. A soft moan of pleasure escaped me. I felt Kaden's body stiffen beneath me, but he said nothing. Instead, he brought the glass of wine to my lips. I froze.
I didn't drink. I knew it was wine, and my throat was parched, but the memory of alcohol's effect was a cold dread in my veins. I'd seen what it did to Isabella, the screaming, the stumbling, the violent, flying objects. I could still feel the ache against my forehead when she threw that lamp at me.
No way.
I swallowed hard. "I...I'm not really used to alcohol," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.
A man across the table with shoulders like a bull and a beard that hid most of his face let out a deep, throaty chuckle. The woman draped over his lap joined in, giggling as his hand disappeared beneath the waistband of her pants. I averted my eyes, my skin crawling.
Gosh, all these men were pigs.
My gaze stayed on Kaden's suit jacket. I didn't trust myself to look anywhere else.
"Such an innocent flower, huh," the man drawled. His voice made my skin crawl. I felt his leering gaze crawl over me. I wanted to hide, to cover myself.
Kaden, as if noticing my stiffness, cut his eyes toward the man. "Shut it, Marco," he muttered, his voice flat.
Marco fell silent instantly.
"Just a taste for me," Kaden murmured, his attention returning to me. He tipped the glass before I could protest. The wine was rich, warming a path down my throat to pool heat in my stomach. It tasted good, too good. I took another, deeper swallow. Kaden pulled the glass away, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
"That's enough," he said, and this time, the smile that touched his lips was real, reaching his eyes. And I saw something... maybe the wine had started working.
That was probably it.
"You're so gentle with her." Stacie's voice was like a shard of ice slicing through the moment. "Who would have thought Kaden Santos had a soft side?" The words were teasing, but I heard the strain beneath them. She didn't like this, didn't like how Kaden treated me.
Kaden didn't even grant her a glance, dismissing her. Stacie's eyes dropped to her plate, her jaw clenching as she stabbed a piece of food angrily. Did she have something going with Kaden? My eyebrows drew together.
Maybe a girlfriend? My gaze darted to Kaden, but he gave nothing away. His brown eyes just remained locked on mine. Couldn't he give it a break? Had he signed a contract with the gods to always stare or something? I snorted in disbelief, the harsh sound echoing around the table.
Shit.
"Something funny?" he asked. His voice was dangerously calm, his expression unreadable. I shrank into myself, making my body as small as possible against his, shaking my head so hard I think I strained a muscle. Thankfully, he didn't comment further, giving a satisfied hum as his hand came up to stroke my hair. I released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, my shoulders slumping.
All my logical thoughts evaporated. All I could think about was his hand gently caressing my hair, making my eyes flutter shut. For a moment, he wasn't a lunatic who treated me like a pet; he felt like a loved one putting me to sleep, taking all the worry away.
I spoke too soon.
His hand stilled, then fisted in my hair, gently pulling my head to the side, exposing the vulnerable line of my throat. I gasped as his rough, warm lips pressed against my skin. A fluttering sensation, hot and unwelcome, erupted low in my stomach.
What was happening? I shouldn't be feeling this, while everyone probably... my eyes shot open.
Everyone watched.
I tensed, trying to pull away, but Kaden's arm was an iron band around my waist, holding me firm against him. He sucked on the sensitive skin of my neck, his teeth grazing in a sharp nip. My breathing hitched, becoming audible, shallow pants as his kisses trailed along my jaw, his mouth hot against my skin. But all I could feel were the eyes on us.
Kaden didn't seem to care, pulling away as abruptly as he had begun. A shaky sigh escaped my lips. I squeezed my thighs together, the wetness between them making realization hit like a bucket of cold water.
I had enjoyed it.
Mortification burned my cheeks. I must have looked like a dog in heat in front of everybody. My ears turned hot. I don't know why-if it was the wine, or I was just losing my fucking mind, or both. I turned and buried my face against the rough wool of his suit jacket, hugging his waist tightly, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could wish the world to just disappear.
Above me, Kaden chuckled, the deep, throaty sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. He ran a comforting hand down the curve of my back, and despite everything, I shivered, my muscles loosening against him.
Apparently, my body wasn't mine anymore. It seemed to listen to him instead of me.
It might as well just kick me the hell out.
Kaden's large hand settled on my thigh, the heat seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. I tentatively raised my head, looking up at him. His gaze was elsewhere, but his hand continued its slow, soothing circles on my back, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. Warmth filled my chest.
"Any word from Malcolm?" Kaden asked, his voice dropping into a different register, all business.
A hush fell over the table, all side conversations stopping at once.
Ace answered, his voice firm and clear. "He'll be here by tomorrow."
The moment the words were spoken, the spell of silence broke, and the low hum of conversation resumed, as if everyone had been holding their breath, waiting for the conversation between Kaden and Ace to stop.
If you could even call that a conversation.
Kaden motioned with a finger, and a maid hurried over. A familiar fragrance I had grown up around hit my nose, one I would recognize from a mile away. My gaze snapped to the maid.
Isabella.
She wore a maid's uniform like the others, her hair tied back into a ponytail, hands which always had jewelry now bare, as she reached to pour whiskey into Kaden's empty glass.
A jolt of adrenaline shot through me. That was my job, not hers.
Before I could think, my hands unwrapped from Kaden's waist. I lunged forward, my fingers closing around the whiskey bottle, pulling it from her grasp. Her eyes, wide with shock, met mine, then narrowed into slits, her lips curled back from her teeth in a silent snarl. She shouldn't be doing something like this, my mind screamed. I should...
With trembling hands, I poured the amber liquid into Kaden's glass, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was a miracle I didn't spill anything. Silence stretched across the table. Every eye was on me again.
Kaden's hand shot out, not to stop the bottle, but to fist a chunk of my hair. He yanked my head back sharply, pulling me away from my task with force. A cry of pain tore from my lips as the bottle slipped from my fingers, shattering against the edge of the table, glass and whiskey spraying everywhere. He didn't let go; the pain was a bright, white-hot agony in my scalp.
"Please," I whimpered, "let me go." But his grip only tightened. His brown eyes were narrowed, his jaw a hard line. What did I do? My head spun with confusion.
"Clean that shit up," he snapped, his gaze shifting from me to Isabella.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, her body rigid with suppressed fury. She took a step away from the table, beginning to turn.
"Stop."
Kaden's voice froze her in mid-step. She looked back at him, her face a mask of hatred directed at me. It was so different. She did glare at me from time to time when I did something she didn't approve of, but not like this. Not that look; it was one of pure hate that made me flinch.
He beckoned her with a single finger. She moved stiffly, standing before him, her glare still locked on me.
"Use your hands," he commanded.
It was glass...why was he punishing her for something I did? My stomach churned; it was my fault, not hers.
I saw her hands clench at her sides before they slowly unclenched. Knowing Isabella, she would snap at any minute, tell him to fuck off. My eyebrows squished together, but she didn't.
She sank to her knees without a word. The sharp crack of glass grinding under her weight was the only sound. She began picking up the pieces, one by one, her fingers soon wet with blood. My heart clenched, a painful throb.
I shouldn't care. After all she did to me, all the torment...but still, this was a girl I'd grown up with. I packed her schoolbag, sat on the ground of her lavish bedroom when she rambled about some boy in her class. She was all I knew, my reality before all this happened. Seeing her on her knees, her eyebrows not furrowed in anger but in pain as she gathered the sharp pieces of glass, twisted something inside me.
She didn't flinch, didn't back down, grunting with every piece. Kaden wasn't watching her. He was watching me, taking in my expression.
Marco broke the silence with a dark chuckle. "Feisty," he drawled, his eyes roaming over Isabella's bent form. "Give her to me for the night. I'll teach her some manners."
Isabella flinched, her hands stilling for a second.
A cold fury washed over me, erasing the fear. I didn't think, all I knew was I didn't like it.
Didn't like any of this.
My hand shot out, closing around the heavy base of my wine glass. In one fluid motion, I hurled it across the table. It connected with Marco's forehead with a sickening thwack, cracking before clattering to the floor. A line of dark blood welled instantly and began to trickle down his face. He groaned, more in shock than pain, his hand flying to the wound. The woman on his lap shrieked.
My eyes widened. What did I just do?
*****
Hey everyone! Who knew she had it in her? 😅
Quick update:
I'll be posting here every Tuesday, but if you can't wait, you can join my Patreon for more chapters and read the story weeks ahead!
The link is in my bio, check it out if you want to keep reading right away!
Whether you read here or there, thank you! Your support means everything 💖