Chapter 11
To my surprise, life with Andreas was… disarmingly easy.
If I didn’t already know his identity as heir to the Valentine Syndicate, I would’ve pegged he as some overprotected college kid–sweet, harmless, maybe a little too sincere.
And, well… absurdly sentimental to the point of parody. The apple I took a single bite of?
He placed it in a velvet–lined box, murmuring something about “the artistry of the curve left by your teeth.”
He handed me the password to his Swiss bank accounts, the deed to more properties than I could count, and even the blood–pigeon ruby heirloom of the Valentine family.
Everything he had–he placed in my hands.
I could feel it–he was trying to give me a sense of security.
Trying to show me that, to him, this wasn’t a contract. It was commitment.
Ever since my mother died, I’d grown used to the coldness of the world.
People left. Promises snapped like twigs.
Love–when it appeared at all–always came with strings attached.
No one had ever handed me their heart like this before–bare, trembling, without conditions.
wwwwwww
Sometimes, in those quiet moments with him, I’d think… maybe this marriage, born from strategy and self–preservation, bad after all.
asn’t so
But peace, I’d long since learned, is always on a timer.
It wasn’t long before some of the Syndicate’s senior advisors–gray–haired, sharp–eyed men from the old world–started visiting the .estate more often.
And they didn’t like what they saw.
6
After one of my equestrian lessons, I came back to find several of them storming out of the study, their expressions dark and severe.
When their eyes met mine, their eyes swept over me with all the warmth of a blade’s edge.
That was when Andreas’s voice cut through the tension, calm but cold:
“I know exactly what I’m doing. Helena is my wife. That’s not a debate.”
“The next time you question that–be ready to deal with the consequences.”
He stepped out from behind them. Gone was the soft sparkle in his emerald eyes.
In its place: glacial ice. Absolute authority.
The authority in his presence was absolute.
Those powerful old men–men who once ruled empires in the underworld–visibly paled.
They bowed slightly, one after another, and shuffled out in silence.
That was when it hit me:
This boy with the cherub face and shy stammer wasn’t harmless.
He was dangerous.
He just chose to hide it from ine.
Chapter 11
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Chapter 11
