Chapter 3 Mireille's POV
MIREILLE’S POV
I could literally feel Kian’s burning, furious stare drilling into the back of my neck. I let out a low, internal groan, dying a thousand deaths inside as the stranger—whose name I still didn't even know—began to slowly advance toward me, his green eyes glinting with pure, malicious amusement.
“Slaine,” Kian spat, his voice trembling as he stepped forward and aggressively yanked me back to his side. “How exactly do you know my fiancée?”
Slaine. I repeated the name silently in my head. So that was it. I swallowed hard, my mind racing. The brief relief of finally having a name vanished the moment Slaine let out a mocking scoff.
“Fiancée?” Slaine asked, his dark gaze locking onto Kian.
I could feel Kian literally shaking with rage beside me.
“Mireille, aren't you going to enlighten your dear fiancé on how exactly we met?” Slaine prompted, tilting his head.
I winced, knowing I was completely cornered. The man had absolutely zero intention of letting this go. Kian and his father were staring at me like hawks, waiting for an explanation I didn't have.
“We... uh... we met at the bar where I work,” I lied through my teeth, the words tasting like ash. “My night shifts.” I held my breath, cautiously studying Slaine to see if he would brutally call out my bluff. When he remained silent, a smug look on his face, I offered him a desperate, fleeting look of gratitude.
“You work as a waitress?” Mr. Shane demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh, disgusted tone.
I shifted from foot to foot, realizing the absolute catastrophe of a lie I had just spun.
“That’s what she said,” Slaine chuckled, thoroughly enjoying every single second of my excruciating discomfort.
“Kian, how could you bring such a lowlife into this house?” the patriarch roared, pointing a degrading, furious finger in my direction.
Tears of pure humiliation stung the corners of my eyes. I held my breath, clenching my jaw to keep a whimper from escaping. I refused to give them the satisfaction of watching me break. I turned to look at Kian, expecting some semblance of support, but he was staring at me like I had just grown a second head.
“You work at a bar?” Kian stormed, turning his fury entirely on me, completely feigning ignorance. “And you had the audacity to tell me you were the heiress to Lewe’s Diamonds!” He jabbed a sharp finger at my chest. “How dare you dress up like you're actually someone, when you're absolutely nothing?”
I couldn't take it anymore. The walls were closing in, and the insults were suffocating. I violently pushed Kian away, staring at him with pure hatred for a fraction of a second.
“Loser,” I muttered under my breath.
I shoved past him, threw Slaine a murderous, venomous glare, and stormed out of the mansion.
The moment the heavy front doors slammed behind me, the tears fell freely. I yanked my phone out of my purse, my vision blurry as I scrambled through my contacts, desperately trying to call my best friends. Suddenly, a heavy hand gripped my arm from behind. Startled, I dropped the phone onto the gravel driveway, a sharp gasp escaping my lips. I spun around, coming face to face with a furious Kian.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” I snapped, trying to wrench my arm free.
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Don't tell me you're throwing a tantrum over that little incident inside,” he scoffed.
I angrily swiped at the tears burning my cheeks. “What are you even doing out here, trying to touch a piece of shit like me?” I threw his own words right back in his face. “Was the public humiliation inside not enough for your ego?”
He grabbed my sleeve, aggressively tugging me closer to his chest. I violently smacked his hand away and took a massive step back, satisfied by the sharp, shocked gasp that escaped his lips.
“Fine,” he hissed, his expression turning ice-cold. “If that’s the game you want to play.” He stepped back, straightening his expensive suit jacket. “Call me later.” His tone left absolutely zero room for argument. He didn't apologize, he didn't offer comfort, nothing. He just expected me to swallow the abuse and fall back into line.
I watched him turn around and walk back toward the house before I knelt down to retrieve my phone from the gravel.
“What exactly did you think you were doing, trying to marry someone else when you already belong to me?”
I froze, my heart dropping into my stomach as I recognized the deep, velvety voice. I didn't even bother raising my head; I just turned on my heel and walked away from him.
“Stop right there,” Slaine commanded, his voice a low, heavy authority that practically rooted my feet to the ground.
Against my own free will, I stopped. Within a second, he closed the distance between us, his fingers wrapping possessively around my upper arm.
“You do not ever give yourself to another man,” he growled, his grip tight, unyielding. “Unless you want to see them end up dead.”
“He is your brother!” I protested, finally whipping my head up to look at him. I instantly stumbled back, terror seizing my throat. The blackness I thought I had imagined the night before was back, completely dominating his eyes until they looked like bottomless pits. “W-what... what is wrong with your eyes?” I stammered, pointing a shaking finger at his face.
“If you ever let another man touch you, death will be too merciful a fate for them,” he said quietly, stepping back. He blinked, and just like that, the terrifying blackness melted away, leaving his enchanting green eyes clear and bright. His gaze slowly raked over my body from head to toe. “I think I need to ruin you properly,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, seductive purr.
“Which poor soul are you tormenting now, Slaine?” a sweet, drippingly deceptive voice called out from behind us.
I felt Slaine’s entire body go completely rigid. I turned my head, my jaw dropping as the stunning blonde woman who had commanded the bar the night before stepped into view, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Arie,” Slaine murmured, his voice shockingly weak. He immediately bypassed me, rushing toward her and pulling her into a tight embrace.
