Chapter 8
895 Words
The dining room was a cathedral of mahogany and gold, illuminated by a chandelier that cast long, flickering shadows against the oil paintings of Vane ancestors. As they took their seats, the air felt thick-not just with the scent of roasted rosemary and expensive wine, but with the weight of the lies being served alongside them.
Silas pulled out Roxanne’s chair. His touch was light, but as his fingers brushed her shoulder, she felt the silent warning vibrate through her. Don't slip.
Elena was practically glowing at the head of the table. She reached across the silk runner, her hand finding Roxanne’s. Her skin was warm, her grip motherly and firm—the "warm bear" in her natural habitat.
"I still haven't caught my breath," Elena admitted, her eyes shimmering with genuine emotion. "When Silas called this morning and told us he was bringing home the woman he intended to marry... well, Marcus had to hold me up. You have to understand, Roxanne, Silas has never brought a woman to this house. Not even a friend. I was beginning to think he’d married his ledger books years ago."
Roxanne felt a prickle of unease. She glanced at Silas. The man who had looked so lethal in her father’s living room was now carefully cutting a piece of steak, his expression a mask of calm.
"Mother, I told you," Silas said smoothly. "I simply hadn't found anyone worth the introduction until now."
"And a consultant, no less!" Elena beamed, turning her focus back to Roxanne. "To think, my son finally found a woman who can talk strategy as well as he can. How did he do it, dear? How did he convince a brilliant mind like yours to settle down with a man as stubborn as a Vane?"
Roxanne felt three pairs of eyes lock onto her.
Silas’s gaze was expectant. Killian, sitting across from her, watched her with a heavy, brooding stare—he knew exactly what the "contract" cost, and he looked like he was waiting for her to crumble. At the end of the table, Cassian was mid-bite, his usual playful grin replaced by a sharp, focused curiosity. They were the inner circle; they knew she was a "hired gun" in a dress.
Roxanne forced a soft, shy smile—a look she had mastered for undercover work.
"It wasn't easy," Roxanne lied, her voice steady. "Silas is... persistent. I think he realized that having me as a competitor was far more expensive than having me as a wife. He made me an offer I simply couldn't refuse."
"I’ll bet he did," Killian grunted, taking a long pull of his red wine. His voice was like gravel, and the double meaning hung in the air for those who knew the truth.
"Killian, don't be boorish," Elena chided gently. "He’s just jealous because he hasn't found his own match yet. But Marcus and I are just so relieved. We’ve waited a long time for this. We want the engagement party to be the event of the season. The O’Sheas need to know the Vane family is growing."
"We’re keeping it private for now, Mother," Silas intervened, his tone firm. "Roxanne’s work requires discretion. We don't want the press—or our enemies—sniffing around her just yet."
"He’s right, Ma," Cassian piped up, breaking the tension with a wink at Roxanne. "A diamond like this? You don't put it in a shop window until the locks are reinforced. Trust me, I’m already working on the... security for the wedding."
"Security for a wedding," Marcus Vane rumbled from the head of the table, his silver-headed cane resting against his knee. He hadn't touched his food. He was watching Roxanne with the eyes of a man who had survived a thousand betrayals. "A strange thing to worry about for a marriage of the heart, isn't it?"
Roxanne felt Silas’s hand find hers under the table. His fingers laced through hers, his palm warm and calloused. It was a grounding force, but also a tether.
"In our world, Marcus, everything precious needs security," Roxanne said, meeting the old Don’s gaze without flinching. "I’m sure you didn't build this empire by being careless with the things you love."
Marcus stared at her for a long beat, the silence in the room stretching until it felt like it might snap. Then, a slow, grim smile spread across his face. He tapped his cane once on the floor.
"She’s got steel in her, Silas," Marcus noted. "I see why you picked her. She doesn't blink."
"She doesn't," Silas agreed, his voice dropping an octave as he looked at Roxanne. For a second, just one, the look in his eyes wasn't part of the act. It was a look of genuine, terrifying intrigue.
"To the happy couple," Elena toasted, raising her glass with a joyful laugh.
Roxanne raised her glass, the crystal clinking against Silas’s. She caught Killian’s eye over the rim. He looked calm. She caught Cassian’s; he looked worried.
The lie was working. The parents were convinced. But as the dinner continued, Roxanne realized that being the "First and Only" woman in this house didn't make her a guest—it made her a target.
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