CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 57
Mila

The car ride was cold, as it should be. When you deny your wife food, you shouldn’t expect much from her.

I stared out the window, searching for familiar landmarks, anything that would tell me where we were. But apparently, the engagement, an event far more important than me eating...took priority.

I walked out of the car, barely concealing my irritation. I was tired. I was hungry. And now I was wherever this place was.

I glanced around, my eyes settling on the building in front of me. It was beautiful...more than beautiful, actually. Regal. Grand. It screamed royalty. Months ago, I would have been marvelling at its elegance, soaking in every detail with wide-eyed wonder.

But now, I simply looked at it with boredom.
A large banner hung at the entrance.
Teatro Bell’Aria.

I was sure Teatro meant theatre. The Bell’Aria part, though? I had no idea.

“You can ogle when we get inside,” Lance’s voice called out.

I looked up, ready to send him a scathing frown, but he had already turned away, striding confidently into the theatre.
I followed behind him.

The moment we stepped inside, I felt it, the weight of attention. Several staff members stood around as if they had been expecting us. Maybe they had.

The stares were uncomfortable, their eyes lingering on me just long enough to make me feel judged.

A man approached us, offering me a polite smile and a courteous nod.
“Welcome, Mr and Mrs Armstrong,” he said warmly.

“It’s good to have you here.”

Lance barely acknowledged him, instead checking his wristwatch impatiently.
“Have they started?” he asked, his tone sharp as he stared the man down. I almost felt bad for him.

“Not at all, sir. We couldn’t start without you,” the man replied, gesturing toward a door I assumed led into the theatre hall.
Inside, everything screamed luxury.

Crystal chandeliers hung from a beautifully painted ceiling, casting warm golden light over rows of red velvet seats arranged in perfect arcs.

The man led us to what could only be described as the VIP section. It was secluded, private, just the two of us, with an impeccable view of the stage.

A small table sat between the seats, filled with snacks and drinks.
Snacks.
Drinks.

My stomach rumbled loudly in excitement.
I glanced at Lance resentfully as he took his seat like he owned the place. Well, maybe he did...but that wasn’t the point.

The stage was still empty, yet the hall was already filled with people. So the man hadn’t exaggerated. They really had made everyone wait just for Lance.

It really must be nice to be wealthy.
My attention returned to the table of snacks. I examined each one carefully, indecisive. I reached out, then hesitated.

“Stop staring and eat it if you’re going to,” Lance said beside me.

I ignored him and continued contemplating.
“Just eat it and stop being embarrassing,” he added, clearly annoyed.

Quietly, I began singing, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” pointing dramatically at the snacks.
For someone who was starving, I was being unnecessarily dramatic..but I was determined to annoy him. The more displeased he looked, the more tempted I was to continue.

Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.

His eyes locked onto mine, intense and unwavering, and my stomach did that stupid flip again. Hunger. It had to be hunger right??

I matched his gaze, refusing to look away.
Then he leaned closer.
Oh no. He better not be thinking what I think he’s thinking.

His lips met mine in a daze. I froze, unmoving, registering only the softness of his mouth against mine...until a sharp sting shot through my lower lip.
Pain.

He pulled away, his eyes dark, heated.
“Watch yourself, Mila,” he murmured before leaning back into his seat, suddenly relaxed.
I immediately grabbed the waffles and began eating slowly.

I touched my lips absentmindedly. The spot where he bit me was still swollen. I should have been furious. My face certainly looked like I was.

But my heart had other ideas.
I ate quietly, scrolling through my phone and searching “100 ways to deal with your husband when he bites your lips.”

The orchestra finally began.
I had been to operas before..Elena had a strange obsession with them. When my father was alive, I’d often tag along. Since his death, though… nothing like that.
And if I was being honest, I slept through most operas anyway.

I buried my face in my phone, planning to stay there until whatever performance this was finally ended.

One moment my phone was in my hand. The next, Lance had snatched it away.
He studied the screen calmly, an amused expression crossing his face.

“Do you want to bite me back?” he asked curiously.
I blinked.

“I suppose you might want to do that,” he added, clicking his tongue as he continued scrolling.

Then he gave me a look.
“Eyes on the stage. I didn’t bring you here for this."

He held my phone loosely in his hand.
Right. You brought me here to bore me to death. Excellent plan, husband.

I forced my attention to the stage, trying, unsuccessfully...to enjoy whatever was happening.

Minutes passed. My body felt numb and I just wanted to get a different air from whatever was happening on that stage.

“I am going to the restroom,” I said, already standing before waiting for his response.
Maybe I stood up too quickly. Maybe it was the food. I wasn’t sure.
But after just a few steps, the world went dark.