Chapter 12
731 Words
Chapter 11 – “Velvet Daggers at Dinner”
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Ariana
The air was thick with tension before I even walked in.
The dining room glowed warm, too soft for the storm brewing inside me. I wore a silky rose-pink dress that brushed mid-thigh—innocent enough, until I leaned forward. Lucas trailed behind me in black, sleek and devilish, like my perfect partner in crime.
Matteo was already at the head of the table, glass in hand, sharp suit immaculate.
I didn’t look at him.
I giggled instead—too loud—and let Lucas pull out my chair like I was royalty. Our plan? Simple.
Make him burn.
Lucas leaned in to whisper something utterly inappropriate, and I burst out laughing. I let my hand linger on his chest longer than necessary.
Across the table, Matteo’s eyes darkened.
Joan sat beside him, smug and sweet. Wearing pearls and fake sincerity. She’d claimed the seat of his bride-to-be. But not his attention.
That was mine.
Always had been.
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Matteo
She was radiant. She knew it. And she wasn’t dressing for Lucas.
No, she wore that shade of blush because she knew I couldn’t look away.
Her laugh stabbed through my ribs. Her skin glowed under the chandelier, legs crossed just enough to show the creamy skin above her thigh. Lucas draped his arm casually behind her. His fingers touched the ends of her hair.
My hand tightened on the glass.
Joan said something—I didn’t hear.
Ariana smiled again.
“Can I feed you?” Lucas asked her like it was nothing.
I froze.
She nodded sweetly. “Only if you use your fingers.”
He picked up a grape. Held it to her lips. She took it with her mouth—slow, sensual, eyes on me the entire time.
Control is a thin thing. I felt mine snapping.
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Ariana
I heard Matteo’s glass crack under the pressure of his grip.
Lucas’s hand slid over my thigh under the table. A comforting lie. We were just pretending, just acting—but the heat in the room was real.
“I think he wants to kill me,” Lucas whispered against my neck.
“Good,” I said through my teeth. “Let him feel something.”
Joan noticed. “Lucas, dear,” she said too sweetly, “didn’t you say you were gay just a week ago?”
Lucas tilted his head. “Did I? Maybe I’m bisexual now. Or maybe I just like your future stepdaughter.”
“Ex-stepdaughter,” Joan hissed.
I turned to Lucas, loud enough for everyone. “You’re not my first kiss, but you might be the first who makes me forget all the others.”
Joan gasped.
Matteo stood up.
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Matteo
Enough.
“Out,” I growled.
Everyone turned. My voice had dropped into something low, cold—scarier than shouting.
Lucas arched a brow. “Is something wrong?”
My eyes locked on Ariana. “With you two? Everything.”
She stood now, her gaze fierce, glittering with unshed tears and rage and pride.
“Why does it bother you, Matteo?” she asked quietly. “You’ve made it clear who you want. So let me want someone too.”
Lucas smirked. “Tell him, babe.”
Ariana slid onto Lucas’s lap. Her legs draped across his thighs, her fingers toying with the collar of his shirt.
I saw red.
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Ariana
I didn’t expect him to move so fast.
But Matteo was suddenly behind Lucas, yanking him up by the collar and slamming him against the nearest wall. Dishes shattered. Joan screamed.
“Don’t touch her again,” Matteo growled.
Lucas didn’t flinch. “Little possessive for someone who’s marrying another woman.”
“Shut up,” Matteo snapped.
I stood, heart racing. “Matteo—stop!”
He looked at me. And in that second, I saw everything.
Desire. Fury. Heartache.
And then he dropped Lucas and walked out—without a word.
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Later that night, I passed Matteo’s office. The door was slightly open. I peeked in.
He sat alone, head in his hands, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat.
In front of him?
The photo of me from three years ago. Smiling. Innocent. Mine.
He traced the edge of it with a trembling finger.
And whispered,
“You were always supposed to be mine.
- Writer
