19

19
Arabella

I exhaled as I stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my chest and another on my head. Another day had passed, and I hadn’t fallen into Marco’s arms yet.

I had escaped today, but I didn’t know how long I could continue to evade him.

Not that I was doing much evading - he was the one taking his sweet time, teasing me. I sighed and tossed the towel from my head to the side.

I was about to take off the towel around my chest when I heard that deep voice.

“Hello, beautiful.”

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. “Oh my God!” I turned around quickly, and there he was - the man I had waited for all day.

Six. He was leaning against the cupboard by the doorway. I couldn’t believe I had missed him in the first place.

“What are you doing here?” My eyes widened in panic. “If Marco sees you here, he’s going to kill you.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, his hand tucked in his pants pocket. His eyes traveled the length of my body, and I sucked in a deep breath.

I watched him closely. I could see the desire in his eyes, fixated on the droplet of water that trickled down my chest and disappeared beneath the towel.

I felt hot under the intensity of his gaze. I couldn’t meet his obsidian eyes, those dark pools swirling with want.

I bit down on my lower lip, and his gaze lifted to meet mine, lingering there. “He’ll be there. Your Trojan horse.”

It took a moment for it to click. “Really?” My eyes flew open in surprise. “But why? I thought they hated... I—”

But he was already walking out the door.

I rushed after him, one hand clinging to the towel around my chest. “Does that mean you’re willing to help? Are you going to help me take down, you-know-who?” I whispered.

He stopped and turned to look at me. “Don’t push it.” Then, his gaze shifted to my bed. My undies were laid out on the mattress, the pink ones he had picked from the mannequin.

He flashed me a boyish grin.

I thought it was impossible for him to look hotter than he already did, but in that moment, he was.

“Nice choice,” he said with a smirk.



“Smile, Arabella. It’s your engagement party. You look smoking hot in that dress.” Those were the words I chanted in my head as I left my bedroom that evening.

The music reverberated through the grand estate, the bass vibrating under my feet as I descended the stairs.

The chandeliers above cast a golden glow over the marble, reflecting off the glittering dresses and expensive suits that filled the room.

I hated this party already.

It wasn’t a celebration; it was a showcase. A chance for men like Marco to parade their power, their possessions. And tonight, I was one of those possessions.

I forced myself to keep my head high, wearing a small smile. My steps were slow and cautious as my silk, blood-red dress - slit dangerously high - flowed around my legs.

I could feel the weight of a hundred stares crawling over my skin, some full of admiration, others of envy. But the only gaze that truly burned was Marco’s.

He stood at the bottom of the staircase, a drink in his hand, watching me like a predator eyeing prey.

His dark eyes traveled from my heels up my legs, lingering at the slit before settling on my face. A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips.

“You clean up nice, mi amore,” he murmured when I reached him, his fingers brushing my waist possessively.

I stiffened at his touch but forced a smile. “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

His smirk deepened. “You always have a choice, Arabella. You just don’t always like the consequences.”

I bit my tongue, swallowing down the sharp retort that sat at the tip of it. I had to be careful, had to play the part. Marco didn’t need an obedient woman by his side - far from it. If he did, he could have been married to any of the willing women crawling around him.

He enjoyed the fight, the chase. But he still demanded control. And testing him in front of his guests was not a risk I was willing to take. I had learned the hard way already.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and I grabbed one, taking a long sip. The bubbles tickled my throat, but it did little to ease the suffocating atmosphere. Around us, the party carried on.

Women draped in the shiniest diamonds laughed into their cocktails, men spoke in low, hushed voices, their expressions tight with business.

And then there was Six.

I felt him before I saw him. I couldn’t explain the feeling - I just knew he was here.

When I finally dared to glance toward him, he was leaning against the bar, a small glass in his hand, his broad frame relaxed, but his sharp eyes never leaving me.

Unlike Marco, who admired me like a trophy, Six looked at me like he saw straight through me. Past the dress, the makeup - like he could see deep into my soul. I wondered what he saw.

Something inside me tightened.

“You’re distracted.”

Marco’s voice was low, tinged with amusement. But when I turned back to him, his jaw was slightly clenched. He was annoyed.

“I was just—”

His fingers tightened around my wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who I belonged to.

My stomach churned.

The crowd around us shifted, parting slightly as Francesco approached, his usual smug expression in place. “Boss, the shipment just arrived. They’re waiting for you downstairs.”

Marco sighed, bringing my hand to his lips. “Try to behave while I’m gone.”

I forced another smile, holding my breath as he finally let go and walked away, leaving me standing in a sea of strangers.

I turned toward the bar. Toward him.

Six hadn’t moved. Hadn’t looked away.

I picked up another champagne flute from a passing tray and made my way toward him, heels clicking against the marble.

Just as I inched closer, Katherine popped out of nowhere, grabbing his hand. “Hello, Six,” she greeted in that cheery voice. “Fancy seeing you here.”

I stopped in my tracks.

He looked at me and then turned his attention to her. “I think it’s the other way around. I work here…”

She giggled aloud, as if he had said something funny.

I swallowed hard. A tight knot formed in my chest as I watched them. The feeling was unfamiliar. Could it be? No. I took a large sip from my champagne flute.

It couldn’t be… right? My chest tightened, my gaze dropped, and when I blinked, tears? No, no, no. What the hell is wrong with you, Arabella? Are you jealous?