Taken At The Altar

Episode 004

Naomi Sinclair POV

I couldn't concentrate. I haven't had one single thought since the last talk with my mother. It all just didn't make sense to me anymore. I was the stupid one. The coward still. Once a fool, forever a fool.

Nothing was changing.

I noticed he was watching me.

Rowan that hadn't been there before was now looking at me?

A pause too long. A stare that lingered.

He was watching me.

Not like before, with indifference or calculation…but with suspicion and curiosity.

He noticed I didn’t flinch when he raised his voice.

That I no longer asked for permission.

I read the report he left on the table and annotated them in red pen, offering “suggestions” his board surprisingly liked.

And worst of all….I started asking questions.

About Seraphina.

About the merger.

About him.

“I don’t like that tone in your voice,” Rowan said as soon as I talked about the merger like it wasn't a thing, his eyes flickered over the financials I’d scribbled on. “It’s too sharp for someone who used to blush when I looked her way.”

I lifted my chin from across the breakfast table, calmly. “Maybe you were looking at the wrong woman all along.”

He said nothing for a long moment, just sipped his black coffee.

“You’re not the docile little shadow I married a few weeks ago,” he said.

“No,” I agreed. “She disappeared the night she signed your contract.”

He leaned back in his chair, “Whatever you’re looking for, Naomi, I’d advise you to stop. Not everything in this world welcomes a woman with questions. I wouldn't tolerate you asking me questions that shouldn't always involve you. ”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said evenly.

For a long second, there was a deep silence. Then he stood, straightening his cuffs.

“You have a gala to attend tonight,” he said, already turning away. “Try not to embarrass me.”

~`

The gown was silk, blood-red, and strapless, chosen by his assistant, but I made alterations. Removed the necklace. Switched the heels. Wore my hair down in soft, purposeful waves, framing my face like armor.

I didn’t want to play Seraphina tonight.

I wanted them to see me. I cannot keep on hiding in some other shelf like they cared about my feelings.

Rowan’s driver dropped me off at the entrance. The Carlton Foundation Gala….an ocean of politicians, CEOs, socialites, and sharks in tuxedos.

My heels clicked against the tile as I entered. Heads turned.

For a moment, I felt the old nausea, the tightness in my throat that said I didn’t belong. But then I remembered my mother’s voice….You were convenient….and I straightened my shoulders.

If I was a pawn, then I would be the sharpest one on the board.

I worked the room carefully, speaking with key investors I recognized from Rowan’s briefings. I didn’t flirt, didn’t play dumb. I talked numbers, offered insight, even disagreed once….with poise.

One man laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. “Rowan’s wife is the sharpest. ” he said. “Who would’ve guessed?”

I caught Rowan watching from across the room. A whiskey in his hand, an unreadable expression on his face.

But when our eyes locked….he didn’t look away.

Later, I stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the waltz begin. My feet ached and my champagne had grown warm, but I wasn’t ready to leave.

I wanted to soak it in…the murmur of power, the scent of politics and perfume, the way people glanced at me now with calculation, not dismissal.

And then he appeared.

A stranger.

Late thirties, dressed too simply for the room. No name tag. No tie. But his eyes were sharp, restless. He moved toward me like someone with a purpose.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

“Naomi Sinclair,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear.

I turned, spine stiff. “Yes?”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t offer a hand.

Instead, he leaned in, close enough that I could smell coffee and something alcoholic on his breath.

“You’re not safe with him,” he said.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Rowan.” He looked around the room as if to make sure no one was listening. “He’s not what you think.”

I stepped back slightly, instinct humming in my blood. “Who are you and what do you think I think of him? You don't even know me.”

“I used to work with him,” he said quickly. “Briefly. He….he doesn’t play fair, Naomi. And he doesn’t forgive disobedience.”

A frown crept to my face.“What do you want from me? What does this have to do with me?”

“I want you to be careful,” he said, eyes urgent. “There are files. Records. The merger wasn’t just about Sinclair Corp….it was a cover. Something much bigger. Seraphina found out. That’s why she ran.”

I stared at him.

“What do you know about Seraphina?” I asked.

He opened his mouth to answer….and froze.

Across the ballroom, Rowan was moving toward us.

Fast and rushing across.

“s**t,” the man muttered. “I shouldn’t have….” He stopped mid-sentence. “I’ll find you. Later.”

Then he slipped away, rushing into the crowd before I could stop him.

I stood there, trying to understand what the heck just happened and what the man was blurting out. It all just sounded foreign to me.

And watching Rowan hasten his steps, I wondered what he might have seen and why he was overly doing things.

Rowan reached me seconds later.

“Who was that?” he demanded.

I blinked innocently. “I thought you said not to embarrass you.”

His jaw clenched. “Answer me.”

I turned back to the dance floor, letting him see nothing of the fire burning under my skin.

“Just a stranger,” I said. “But apparently, I attract dangerous men.”

He stepped in front of me, blocking my view. “Naomi….”

I looked up at him, smiling serenely. “You warned me about asking questions. But you never said anything about listening to answers.”

He stared at me then. Truly stared at the rest of the crowd. And for the first time, I saw something break in his carefully constructed façade.

Not anger. But frustration. He looked annoyed.

And maybe… respect.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said.

I tipped my glass toward him. “Then let’s hope I burn brighter than the rest.”