THE PLAYBOY’S FORCED BRIDE

Chapter 3: Moving in

The dinner went better than I expected, but worse than I needed.

Dominic was exactly what my three years of research had warned me about. He watched me across the table the whole night with eyes that didn’t match his polite smile. I smiled back, chose every word carefully, and gave him nothing he could use.

Yet, he studied me as he had already decided he would figure me out.

On the ride back to the estate, I kept telling myself it went well, and I handled it. The city lights blurred past the window while I tried not to think about the way Dominic had paused before answering my second question, or how Adrian had observed the way his father was watching me.

The Tao estate sat at the end of a long private driveway lined with old trees. The house was three floors of pale stone and dark glass, surrounded by gardens that were neatly trimmed.

I stepped out with two suitcases and my laptop bag.

Before I unpacked my things, I walked around the space and mapped it in my head. Both the exists and sightlines. And also, where the security cameras are pointed. I noted the Wi-Fi router in the east wing.

Adrian’s rooms were in the west wing, far from mine. That distance felt really good.

The first suitcase contained my clothes, shoes, and toiletries, so I unpacked them quickly. The second one I opened carefully and slowly. I lifted the base, peeled off the lining, and took out the portable hard drive and second phone wrapped in a soft sleeve. I hid them under the desk drawer and arranged other things in front.

I had done this in other places before. But none of those rooms had security like this.

I sat on the bed. The room smelled of fresh flowers, clean linen, and serious money.

This is just the next phase, I told myself and almost believed it.

Dinner that night was at seven thirty. The dining room was huge, big enough for twenty people, but it was only the two of us at one end of a long table. The food came in perfect courses, served with gentle care.

We talked carefully, pretending not to be strangers.

He asked about the suite. I said it was comfortable. I asked about upcoming events. He listed two without looking up from his plate.

Everything stayed polite until he glanced at the flower arrangement by the door. “This was done excessively,” he said. “The east wing always got the decorator’s leftovers.”

I set my fork down.

“Mrs. Delacroix has been running this house since before you were old enough to have opinions about it,” I said. “The arrangement is fine.”

A thick silence settled over the room.

Adrian looked up at me as if I had done something he didn’t expect. I held his gaze for a second, then picked up my fork and continued eating. I wasn’t going to apologize for what I just said.

“The contract didn’t say anything about you having opinions,” he said.

“Most contracts don’t,” I replied. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. Then the corner of his mouth shifted. Almost a smile, “Fair enough.” he said. He didn’t make another careless remark again.

Then, his gaze dropped to his plate. “Vela Holdings. He said almost to himself without looking up.

“It’s in the contract,” he said. “Page thirty-one. I put it there deliberately.” Now, he looked up at me, his eyes were steady. “I wanted to see if anyone noticed it there.”

The silence between us shifted.

“Did you?” he asked.

I held his gaze. “Should I have?”

He looked at me for one long moment. Then he picked up his wine glass and turned back to his plate.

We finished the rest of our meal in silence. It seemed like an understanding had settled between us. I said goodnight at the bottom of the stairs. He nodded. And I went upstairs.

I changed my clothes, made tea, sat at the desk, and opened my laptop.

The estate’s network was on another level. I looked into it slowly, learning the layout first, checking what the monitoring software watched for. Then I pulled up the contract Adrian’s lawyer had sent and went through it again, line by line.

On page thirty-one, near the bottom of a paragraph about related parties, I saw it.

Vela Holdings.

Just the name and a registration number. I had never seen it before, not for once in three years of investigating.

I ran the registration number. It took a moment to load. It was registered eleven years ago with one director listed. A name I didn’t recognize.

It wasn't Dominic. I read it three times to be sure.

I sat back and stared out the dark window. For three years I thought I had built a complete picture of this company. I had been patient, careful, and thorough. I had given up a lot to get here.

And I had been wrong the whole time.

I never knew there was another structure running alongside. This one was separate, and hidden for eleven years.

The tea beside me went cold.

A quiet, uneasy thought settled in.

What if none of this was an accident? What if the door, the contract, and even finding Vela Holdings tonight weren’t mistakes?

What if someone in this house already knew exactly who I was and what I was after?

And what if they had let me in anyway?

I stared at that name on the screen for a long time. Then I closed the laptop, turned off the light, and sat in the dark.

Sleep didn’t come. I was too busy wondering if I had just made the biggest breakthrough of my life.

Or walked straight into a trap I still couldn’t see clearly.