A knock dragged me halfway out of sleep, soft and delicate.

“Dinner is ready downstairs, miss.”

The voice floated through the door—female, young, maybe nervous.

I blinked at the ceiling, feeling confused for a moment. The room was darker now.
The sunlight had gone behind the thick curtains, leaving everything in a soft, golden light— the kind that makes you feel like you’re still dreaming.

Warmth clung to my skin from the bath. My body felt loose, floaty, like it hadn’t decided whether to be awake yet. I sat up slowly, stretched my arms above my head until my spine popped, and wandered barefoot to the wardrobe.

Nothing fancy. No overthinking, tonight.

A black slip dress—silky, clean lines. I brushed out my hair and left it down, soft and straight, the ends grazing my collarbones. A hint of lip gloss. One spritz of jasmine behind my ears. A gold chain so thin it barely caught the light.

One glance in the mirror. That was it.

Just… enough.

♡

The hallway outside was quiet. The walls were bathed in soft, golden light from the sconces. Each of my steps echoed just slightly against the polished hardwood, a quiet click that felt almost too loud in the silence.

Somewhere downstairs, voices murmured—low, controlled, familiar.

I followed the sound.

The dining room looked like it had been plucked from an old film—the black-and-white kind, where everyone spoke in metaphors.

Candlelight flickered across a snow-white tablecloth. Silverware gleamed under the glow. Roses—deep red, almost bruised-looking—floated in cut crystal bowls spaced neatly between place settings. In the background, slow classical music played like a heartbeat you couldn’t quite catch.

Then I saw him.

Dominic.

Standing near the hallway, sleeves rolled up, tie loose like he’d just pulled it free. He looked at ease in a way that didn’t match the formality of the room—like he could own it with his hands in his pockets.

He was talking to someone.

Evelyn Clarke, ofcourse.

Her back was to me, but I’d know that posture anywhere. Straight, sharp, polished within an inch of its life. She stood close to him—too close. That subtle, practiced kind of closeness that wasn’t technically inappropriate but felt like it was anyway.

She turned slightly.

Saw me.

Her smile was pleasant—perfect, even. But it curved just a little too much on one side, like she already knew something I didn’t. Her gaze skimmed over me slowly, starting from the shoes up.

Then she turned back to him. Said nothing.

I didn’t return the smile.

I walked to the table like I owned it, chose a chair near the center, and sank into it with slow, deliberate ease. The cushion was velvet-soft. The room was warm, perfectly temperature-controlled, but my skin prickled anyway.

The maids moved with practiced quiet, placing dishes like pieces on a chessboard.

Filet mignon, perfectly seared and resting in a pool of red wine reduction, the surface crisped just enough to catch the light.
Potatoes, buttery with just the right hint of truffle.

Asparagus grilled until the tips curled into gold.

A glass of red wine followed. Deep. Heavy. The kind that stayed on your tongue too long.

I picked up my fork. Cut a piece of duck. Tasted it.

Woah, Surprisingly good.

I took another bite, slower this time.

And then I felt it.

Just… a shift. Like the air had turned sharper.

When I looked up, Dominic was already across from me. Sitting. Watching.

His face was calm—perfectly still—but his eyes, dark and unreadable, locked with mine like they’d never left.

“Did you like your room?”

His voice was deep, casual, but there was something coiled underneath it. Like a muscle waiting to flex.

I kept my expression neutral. “It was fine.”

No smile from him. Just a single nod.

I reached for my wine, eyes on the glass, then back to him. “Your assistant seems… helpful.”

I let it hang there. Light. Offhand.

His brow lifted—not much, just a flicker, like he was debating how honest to be.

“She’s efficient.”

Two words. Precise.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was intentional. Heavy in the kind of way that made you feel like something important had already been said without a word.

We sat there across from each other, candlelight flickering between us. No raised voices. No dramatic speeches.

Just silence.

♡

God. This was awkward.

Loud and silent all at once, pressing against the walls and coiling around my spine

Dominic sat across from me, posture perfect, eyes unreadable. Like he hadn’t just been sharing soft laughs and too-close whispers with his assistant in the hallway minutes ago.

Now?

Nothing

Mouth shut. Jaw tense.

Why the silence? Why did the air feel ten degrees colder between us than it did ten minutes ago?

Whatever, I reached for my wine.

The glass was cold, the stem smooth under my fingertips, fragile in the way expensive things always were. I stared at the swirl of deep red liquid inside, watching it move like the storm I was barely holding off inside my chest.

“You two seemed… close.”

The words escaped before I could cage them. And the moment they landed, I felt the weight of them crash into the table between us.

Shit. Why did I say that? Why did I sound like I cared?

I could feel the panic bubbling up in my chest, but I forced my face to stay neutral. Blank. Unbothered.

Dominic’s eyes flicked up—calm, sharp. The kind of look that made your skin prickle.

His eyes, dark and assessing, pinned me in place. Calm on the surface, but with something colder swimming underneath.

“She’s worked with for me a long time.”
His voice was composed, every syllable chosen with precision.

But something passed through his eyes. A flicker.

Judgment?

He looked at me like I had just broken some unspoken rule. Like I was stepping out of bounds—and he didn’t like it.

The kind that said you should know better than to ask.

My cheeks burned, the heat rising like a secret I didn’t mean to tell. I blinked slowly and tilted my head, just enough to study him right back.

“Close enough to loosen your tie for you?”

There.
Even tone. No hint of tremor.
But inside, I was screaming.

Dominic froze mid-motion, fork halfway to his mouth. Then, with practiced control, he set it down. Quiet. Deliberate

His lips twitched. Not a smile. Something far more dangerous.

“Is that jealousy, Mrs. Devereaux?”

The way he said the name—my name—felt like a velvet blade against my throat.

Tight. Uncomfortable. Too intimate.

“No,” I said, too fast. Then steadier. “Just an observation.”

He leaned back, slow and smooth, elbows resting casually on the armrests like a king surveying chaos.

Candlelight flickered between us. Soft, but the tension? Sharp.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and lethal. “Your observations tend to come with consequences.”

Was that a threat? I sat a little straighter. My pulse kicked against my ribs, but I didn’t flinch.

I didn’t look away.

Before I could speak, he changed course entirely.

“Did you like the flowers I arranged in your room?”

My eyes narrowed.

He would dodge. Just like him.

I brought my wine to my lips, the crystal edge kissing my mouth before I answered.

Setting the glass down with more force than needed. “I like... a ring that costs more than a penthouse in Manhattan. Very... specific taste."

Dominic blinked. Confused, just for a second. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher a code he usually had the key for.

“What?”

I lifted my chin, calm. Controlled. “You gave the second answer to my question. I gave the third to yours.”

And there it was.

The crack in the armor.

His face—usually so still, so composed—creased. Slightly.

Then he did something I didn’t expect.

He laughed.

It started as a breath. Then grew. A low, rich laugh that rolled through the room like warm smoke.

It hit me like a slap and a sigh.

Dominic Devereaux LAUGHING?

I stared. Open-mouthed. Because no one told me the devil could laugh.
.

The sharp lines of his jaw softened. His eyes crinkled at the corners—actually crinkled. He looked… human.

“Sorry,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair, fingers pushing back the strands that had fallen loose. “It’s been a while since someone caught me off guard.”

I stared at him. Mouth slightly open. Because nothing in the world prepared me for the way that laugh would feel.

Words stalled behind lips that didn’t know what to do anymore.

Unfair. That face. That voice.

I parted my lips to respond—

“I—”

But the moment shattered.

“Mr. Devereaux.”

Her voice was honey dipped in arsenic.

Evelyn Clarke.

She stopped beside Dominic’s chair, too close, and leaned in to murmur something while handing him a folder. Her perfume—filled the space between them.

Her body brushed his.

I didn’t move.

Dominic glanced at the papers without looking at her. “Thank you, Miss Clarke. I appreciate the reminder.”

His voice dropped a degree.
Colder. Dismissive.

“You can leave for the evening.”

Evelyn stiffened almost imperceptibly. But she smiled, gracious to the end. “Of course.”

She turned, but not before letting her gaze land on me.

That look.

A quiet smirk. Something smug curled at the edges of her mouth. The look of someone who knew exactly what she had… …and exactly what I didn’t.

And God help me, I understood it.

♡

“Bella,” Dominic said after dinner, voice calm, clipped. “Before you go to your room, meet me in my study.”

Just like that, the warmth from earlier—the ghost of a smile, the faint echo of a laugh—vanished.

This was the version of him I knew best. The one who operated like a well-oiled machine. Cold. Tactical. Efficient.

Like I was another line item on his schedule.

Right. Not his secretary. Not his assistant.

But that’s exactly how it felt.

♡

Later, the hallway stretched out in front of me like a quiet dare. My heels tapped softly against the polished floor—

His study door stood tall and dark at the end of the corridor. I didn’t hesitate. I knocked once and stepped in.

The space was pure Dominic.

Dark mahogany shelves lined with books that smelled like time and dust. Heavy curtains drawn halfway shut, letting slanted amber light spill in from a nearby lamp. Shadows draped across the room in clean angles. Controlled. Precise.

The scent hit me first—his cologne. Deep, crisp, masculine. It mingled with the scent of aged paper and leather like a signature he left everywhere he went.

He stood by the desk, sleeves still rolled up, no tie. His watch caught the light when he shifted slightly.

All sharp lines and unreadable eyes.

I leaned against the doorway, arms loose at my sides. “Business even inside your house? Impressive. You must be exhausted from all the… delegating.”

My voice was casual, but the smile didn’t reach my eyes.

His didn’t even try.

“Sit,” he said simply. Not unkind. But not a request either.

I didn’t move.

He continued, tone steady and cool. “I wanted to give you a heads-up about the engagement arrangements.”

I raised a brow, walked in slow, fingers brushing against the spine of a book I didn’t read. “Go on. I haven’t brought the gramophone from my house yet, so I’ve got time to listen.”

He didn’t rise to it. Didn’t even blink.

“We’ll start with the engagement photoshoot,” he said. “Then, two days after that, you’ll go select the ring. One of my assistants will accompany you.”

I stopped. Mid-step.

Turned to face him fully.

“Excuse me?”
My voice stayed quiet. But it sharpened at the edges.

“You won’t be there to choose the ring?”

Dominic’s face didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. “I have work.”

Of course.

Photoshoots? Public appearances? That, he could make time for.
But the actual ring? The one I’d be expected to wear in front of all of Manhattan and beyond?

Apparently, not worth his schedule.

I stared at him. Anger lit slow behind my ribs—steady, patient.

“I presume Evelyn will be present for that ‘work’?” I asked, too calm for how furious I felt

His jaw flexed.

His jaw tightened. His eyes locked onto mine—cold, dark, unreadable.

“What are you getting at?”

I stepped closer. Smooth. Measured. Like I wasn’t unraveling one thread at a time.

“You and my father both,” I said, chin tilting. “So obsessed with appearances. Bella, don’t raise your voice. Don’t make a scene. Don’t make this difficult.”

Another step. Now only inches away.

“And now Mr. Dominic Devereaux won’t even show up to pick out his fiancée’s ring?”

His gaze darkened.

The scent of him wrapped around me—cologne, skin, heat.

He took a step closer.

And I didn’t move.

“You think I’m having an affair with Evelyn?”

He said it softly. Quiet, but cutting.

“Is that what this is?”

I looked up at him, eyes steady even as heat spread across my chest.

“I think you’ve already made your priorities clear.”

His gaze dropped—just for a second—to my lips. A flicker of something passed through his face. A crack in the mask.

Like he was testing something he wasn’t sure he had permission to touch.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” he murmured.

I swallowed hard. My breath caught.

"I’m not going to play house with a man who’s emotionally unavailable and too busy running an empire to pick out a damn ring,” I said. My voice was low, quiet. Dangerous.

His mouth parted slightly. A slow, deep inhale. His brows drew together just a fraction—confusion, irritation, something that looked a lot like restraint.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

I let out a soft laugh. No humor in it.

“That maybe Evelyn can help you pick out the ring instead.”

I met his eyes. Unblinking.

“She seems efficient. And… available.”

There it was.

The tic in his jaw. The flicker of heat in his gaze. The warning.

“Careful sweetheart,” he said, voice dark, flat. “You don’t want to start something you won’t be able to finish.”

The silence stretched.

We were so close now, I could feel his breath—warm, steady. His eyes burned into mine like they wanted answers I refused to give.

I didn’t move.

He didn’t either.

The air between us was carved from fire and ice, humming like a live wire. The fire behind him cracked softly, like it was listening.

He looked at my mouth again.

Too long.

“I think this conversation is over,” I said.

My voice didn’t shake. Not even once.

I stepped to the side, brushing past him. My shoulder barely grazed his. I walked to the door, Then I stopped. Hand on the doorknob.

I didn’t turn fully. Just looked over my shoulder.

“And thanks, Dominic,” I said quietly. “Because of your laugh, I forgot how inhuman you were.”

My voice cracked. Barely.

“I let my guard down.”

I met his eyes one last time.

“It won’t happen again.”

My vision blurred. Something warm, traitorous slid down my cheek before I could stop it.

I turned and walked—fast now.

The door shut behind me with a hard click.

♡

I ran toward my room, slamming the door shut.

Inside, there was a girl who wanted nothing more than to be loved—

but life never unfolds the way we wish it to.

The four walls that enclosed her were slowly becoming her only sanity.

END OF CHAPTER 7