Chapter 22 Malicious Intent
Early the next morning, Terrence and Bianca were having breakfast.
"Mr. Terrence Anderson," he said with measured formality, "Mr. James Anderson is hosting a banquet. He sent this invitation personally, and requests that you bring Ms. Rodriguez with you."
Terrence reached for his napkin, dabbing the corner of his mouth with deliberate ease before taking the envelope. His fingers broke the seal without haste, eyes sliding over the elegant script. A faint, cold curve touched his lips.
"He does know how to pick his timing."
Bianca set down her glass of milk, hesitation flickering in her gaze. "Do I have to go too?"
She bore the title of Terrence's fiancée, but they were not yet married. Walking into an Anderson family banquet and carrying herself as the lady of the house would set tongues wagging before the first glass of champagne was poured.
"That is your choice," Terrence replied, his voice deep and unreadable. "If you do not wish to go, no one can force you."
Bianca pressed her lips together. James was Terrence's cousin, and while Terrence ruled the Anderson family with an iron hand, large families bred sharp rivalries.
From her past life, she knew James and Terrence were far from allies. This invitation could be nothing more than a carefully baited trap.
Across the room, Mira was dusting shelves, but her ears caught every word.
"Mr. Anderson," she ventured, her tone edged with caution, "with all due respect, I do not think Ms. Rodriguez should attend such an important event. If something were to happen, it could harm your reputation. And she has not formally joined the Anderson family yet. Wouldn't it be... inappropriate?"
Bianca's gaze flicked toward her. The maid had clearly not learned her place. Since when did hired help feel entitled to weigh in on the master's affairs?
"Mira, are you saying I am unsuitable? Or that you are more suitable than me?"
Mira's face tightened, then shifted into a wounded expression as she turned to Terrence. "Mr. Anderson, that is not what I meant. I only want what is best for you and Ms. Rodriguez. She is twisting my words."
Bianca let out a short, humorless laugh, lifting her milk and taking a slow sip. "When exactly did it become your place to interfere in your employer's decisions? Get out."
Terrence did not even look at Mira. His voice was low, but the weight behind it pressed the air flat. "Leave."
The maid froze, then retreated without another word.
Terrence slid the invitation across the table to Bianca. "Go or do not go—your call. James does not get to decide for me."
Bianca tapped the edge of the envelope. "If I refuse, will that not embarrass him? And what will that say about you as his cousin? I will go. We are not strangers, and a man should have a partner at a formal event."
Something in Terrence's chest softened. "Fine. I will have a gown sent over."
Mira, thwarted, found a sympathetic ear among the other servants. They whispered in the kitchen.
"Bianca is shameless. Does she not realize she is making Mr. Anderson look bad?"
"She has probably never been to one of the Anderson family's high-society events. I cannot wait to see her humiliate herself."
More muffled laughter followed. "The Rodriguez family is nothing compared to the Andersons. Mr. Anderson should choose someone from his own circle."
Mira smirked. If Bianca stumbled at the banquet, the Anderson family would cut her loose without hesitation. And with James and Terrence at odds, she suspected James might use Bianca as leverage.
By late afternoon, Barry arrived with several garment bags and a team of stylists.
"Ms. Rodriguez, these are all couture pieces—one-of-a-kind, no chance of a duplicate. Please choose whichever you like."
The gowns ranged from soft pastels to deep jewel tones, each crafted by world-renowned designers. Only Terrence could arrange something like this without blinking.
Bianca's hand settled on a black mermaid gown. The color was understated, the cinched waist accentuating her curves, the cut flowing into an elegant sweep.
"This one," she said.
She stepped into the gown, and the stylist worked quickly, painting her face with precision. Even without heavy products, her skin glowed, and the stylist could not help but murmur, "Ms. Rodriguez, your complexion is flawless. This look barely needed any makeup."
A slick of red lipstick transformed her entirely. The bold mouth against the muted gown created a striking contrast—one that drew the eye and refused to let go.
"Thank you. Your skill has added to my beauty."
The compliment made the stylist beam.
Barry reappeared. "Ms. Rodriguez, the car is ready. Mr. Anderson has been waiting."
She nodded. "I am coming."
Terrence was standing by the car when she emerged. For a moment, his body stilled. The sunglasses hid his eyes, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him.
This Bianca was not the soft or playful woman he knew. There was a cool edge in her gaze, an aura of privilege that belonged to the rare few born to rule.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we?"
He inclined his head, offering his hand. His palm lingered on hers for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Let us go."
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the venue.
Bianca's arm was looped through his as they stepped inside. Heads turned instantly, conversations faltered. She tightened her grip on his arm.
He felt it, steadying her with a firm hand. "Stay close."
She glanced up at his profile—sharp, composed—and her own smile grew more assured. "Alright."
The whispers began almost immediately.
"Who is that with Mr. Anderson? Which family is she from? She is stunning."
"A small-company heiress. Supposedly his fiancée. Frankly, his taste is questionable. Her background and education do not match the Anderson family. She must have used some trick to catch him."
James swirled the wine in his glass, his grin broad as he approached.
"Terrence, I have been waiting for you."
His brows lifted slightly as he took in Bianca. There was a flicker of appreciation before it vanished. She was beautiful, yes—but beauty without strategic value was worthless to him.
"And this must be Ms. Rodriguez, your fiancée."
His gaze swept over her like a buyer inspecting merchandise, searching for flaws.
"Terrence, your standards have slipped. A woman without a strong family background as your wife? I have heard Ms. Rodriguez had... entanglements with other men."
His voice was loud enough to carry across the hall, ensuring every guest heard. The room fell silent, eyes sharpening, waiting for the show.