The Billionaire’s Blind Wife

Chapter 12

Matias

The day of the family dinner had finally arrived, and with it, a level of domestic preparation my penthouse had never witnessed. By six o’clock, the sleek, minimalist dining table had been laid with a cream linen runner, wild jasmine sprigs, and a dozen low burning amber candles. I had personally vetoed the catering agency my father tried to send over to us. Instead, I spent two hours on the phone with a local, family owned Italian restaurant, ordering dishes that were rustic, fragrant, and completely unpretentious."Matias!" June’s voice drifted from our bedroom, accompanied by a frantic scuffling noise. "I am experiencing a crisis of the highest order. Where are you husband?" I abandoned my task of adjusting the wine glasses and hurried down the hallway. I found her standing in the center of our closet, wearing a soft, off shoulder lavender knit dress that made her look breathtakingly soft and pretty. The crisis, however, was on her feet. "I can't find my left combat boot," she said, spinning around dramatically, one bare foot lifting off the carpet. "Barney has clearly taken it hostage somewhere. He’s conspiring with your father to make me wear heels. I know it." I looked down. Sure enough, tucked just under the bench in the corner, the toe of a black combat boot was sticking out."Found it," I murmured, stepping closer. Instead of handing it back to her, I knelt on one knee in front of her. Taking her bare, delicate foot in my hand. Her skin was soft and cool, and she let out a tiny, surprised gasp as my fingers wrapped around her ankle.

"Matias?" her voice softened, her fingers instinctively reaching out to rest on my shoulders for balance. "Hold still, brat," I murmured, gently sliding her foot into the boot and pulling the laces tight. I tied them in a secure double knot, then did the same for the other foot. I didn't stand up immediately. I kept my hands resting lightly on her knees, looking up at her. She was looking down toward me, her amber eyes wide and bright, the slight parting of her lips telling me everything I needed to know about her racing pulse. "You look beautiful June," I said quietly. "Lavender suits you."

She swallowed, her cheeks flushing a delicious, deep pink. She reached down, her fingers finding my jawline and lightly tracing the stubble there. "And you smell like rosemary and expensive wine. Are you trying to seduce me before my father gets here to ruin the mood?" "Is it working?"

"Terribly," she whispered, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "But we have a war to fight first. Keep your eyes on the prize, stone." I stood up, catching her hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. "The prize is getting through this dinner without you throwing a bread roll at my father."

"I’ll make no promises," she giggled, letting me lead her out of the room. "And if he comments on my combat boots, the sourdough is going airborne."

Juniper

The dinner party consisted of exactly four people: Matias and myself, my father Arthur Kensington, and Matias’s father Christopher Stone. Having these two men at the same table was already a sensory nightmare, but the sheer, icy tension they brought with them could have frozen the East River. "The merger integration is proceeding at a nominal pace Christopher," my father remarked, cutting into his braised beef. "Though the logistics alignment in the Seattle port is facing some union friction."

"It’s nothing my team can’t handle, Arthur," Matias’s father replied smoothly, taking a slow sip of his Barolo. "We simply need to restructure the regional management." I let out a loud, theatrical sigh, resting my chin in my hands."Oh, please, can we talk about something else?" I groaned. "We’re sitting in a beautiful apartment, eating spectacular pasta, and you two are talking about port logistics. If I wanted to be bored to sleep, I would have stayed in my room and listened to a white noise machine."A heavy and suffocating silence descended on the table. I could practically hear the two older men blinking in shock.Under the table, I felt Matias’s hand slide onto my thigh. His palm was warm, and his fingers gave a reassuring, protective squeeze.

"She’s right," Matias said, his voice completely calm, yet carrying a heavy note of authority that made my heart swell. "We are all here for a family dinner. Let's leave the company stuff at the door."

"Matias," his father warned, his voice dipping. "There is a standard of.."

"Actually, Arthur," Matias interrupted, and I could hear the smile in his voice that rare, warm smile he only wore around me. "I wanted to ask Juniper about her upcoming performance. She’s been practicing a new aria." My head snapped in his direction. I smirked. Oh, he was playing dirty now.

"I have indeed," I purred, leaning back and taking a sip of my red wine. "It’s a lovely piece about a very pompous king who gets eaten by his own hunting hounds because he forgot to feed them. The metaphors are delightfully subtle." My father let out a sudden, startled cough, trying to disguise it as him clearing his throat. Matias’s father went entirely silent."Sounds... charming, Juniper," my father managed to say."It is," Matias agreed, his hand still resting warm and solid on my thigh under the table. His thumb was tracing slow, soothing circles against my skin, completely ignoring the stiff atmosphere above the wood. "I’ve heard her practice. Her high notes are unmatched." The rest of the dinner passed in a bizarre but wonderful blur of quiet rebellion. Every time the two older men tried to steer the conversation back to stocks, shipping lanes, or public relations, Matias and I would seamlessly team up to derail them. We bantered, we made terrible jokes, and at one point, I successfully fed Matias a forkful of roasted garlic which he detested strictly to hear him gasp and whisper that he was going to make me pay for it later. By the time the two fathers excused themselves to the foyer to call their respective drivers, the atmosphere in the penthouse felt lighter, as if a heavy fog had finally cleared. "Well," Matias’s father said, looking at us as we stood side by side in the hallway. He looked tired, but for the first time, his eyes didn't look completely cold. "You two certainly make an... unorthodox pair."

"We’re a disaster, Chris," I corrected cheerfully, leaning my head against Matias’s shoulder. "But we’re a highly profitable one. Have a safe flight back to Tokyo."