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Chapter 10
“Andreas…”
I echoed the name under my breath, still reeling from the fact that my supposed fifty–something mob husband… was actually a baby–faced Castalian boy.
“If you’ve been here the whole time, why the vanishing act? Do you not like your imported bride? Or are you just bored enough to mess
with me?”
Given how well I’d been treated, I doubted anyone here had bad intentions toward me— -so I asked directly.
“No, no! Please don’t be mad.”
Andreas instantly waved his hands in a panic, green eyes wide and shimmering like a scolded puppy.
“I just… I thought you might be disappointed. I wasn’t ready to meet you.”
I leaned back against the headboard and studied him–those eyes were oddly familiar. So was that nervous, almost too–beautiful face.
“Have we met before?” His whole face lit up like someone had flipped a switch.
“You remember! It was at the Avondale Manor!”
A long–buried memory shot up from the depths of my mind—
A chubby kid… a splash… someone falling into the water… someone pulling him out…
And those same unforgettable emerald eyes.
I gasped. “You’re the fat kid from the pond!”
His cheeks flushed instantly. “I am not fat anymore.”
Silence fell between us. Not uncomfortable, just… awkward.
The butler reappeared just in time to break the awkward silence.
“After returning from Avondale Manor, he began studying English seriously. He also spent a great deal of time securing this marriage. It wasn’t something just anyone could arrange.”
A great deal of time, huh…
I pressed my lips into a faint smile, recalling how the Valentine Syndicate had all but forced Richard Whitmore into agreeing.
Well. I guess that counted as “effort.”
“But… wasn’t the heir to the Valentine Syndicate supposed to be, I don’t know, in his fifties and terrifying?”
Andreas walked forward and gave his tousled curls a bounce. “Nope. I’m twenty. The rest is just… rumors. Security, secrecy, you know.”
He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t show up much in public because, well… safety, obviously. But also…” He hesitated. “I mean, I don’t exactly look the part, right?”
I glanced at his innocent face, his ridiculously long lashes, and flawless skin.
Yeah. He looked like a soft, expensive porcelain rabbit.
The thought that this marshmallow was the heir to a mafia dynasty almost broke me.
Actually, I did laugh.
Couldn’t help it–shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling, the whole bit.
Chapter 10
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Andreas stared at me, startled. Then, after a pause, his own expression softened into a gentle smile.
“You look better when you laugh,” he said, almost shyly.
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