Chapter 3 THE HOUSE
~ARIA~
Once outside the cathedral door and inside the car, safely free from the press, Adrian recoils his hands from under mine with disgust.
He shoots me a look that sends a cold shudder straight down my spine.
“Never do that again,” he says, his voice freezing cold. “Read through the contract and pay maximum attention to the DO’S and DON’T’S of this... marriage.”
Annoyed, I flip through the pages of the contract looking for the so-called do’s and don’t’s. Aha, found ya.
Clause 1: No physical contact.
Clause 2: No romantic relationships.
Clause 3: You attend events with me as my wife.
Clause 4: No statements to the press.
“Huh,” I scoff under my breath. Let’s see who keeps to their own part of the deal.
The ride to his estate is rather boring. I left my phone in my bridal suite and so I am stuck in a sports car with my only means of entertainment being watching a man giving his phone the same look a man would give his ex.
Adrian Cole is truly a mystery. I mean, wow, what a thrilling wedding night—just me, a rich guy, and his intense relationship with a glowing screen.
His profile is incredibly sharp in the dim car interior. He doesn't say a word, completely ignoring me, yet the tight space between us feels alive with an invisible, crackling energy that makes my pulse spike every time he shifts gears. I practically have to hold myself back from rolling my eyes right into the dashboard.
Finally, the car stops in front of gates that are taller than my apartment building. Adrian gets out first. He doesn’t open the door for me to step out. Such a jerk.
“Keep up, Mrs. Cole,” he says, not even glancing back.
“Mrs. Cole,” I mutter. Those words sound so heavy in my mouth.
The front door opens before we can even reach the steps. And standing there, arms crossed, clad in pearls that probably cost more than my dad’s legal fee is Victoria Cole.
Her eyes do a slow sweep from my cheap shoes up to my face. And when her eyes finally land on mine, she smiles. The kind of smile that can cut through glass.
“So,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re the one.”
“Apparently.” I let my eyes drag over her expensive attire too. “You must be Adrian’s stepmother. He talks about you all the time,” I say with the sweetest smile I can muster.
I throw the word stepmother out like a quiet challenge. Everyone in high society knows the dark scandal of this house: Victoria is the proud, rightful first wife of the Cole empire, and she utterly despises Adrian because he is the son of the secretary mistress who disrupted her marriage years ago.
To Victoria, Adrian is nothing but an illegitimate threat sharing the inheritance meant for her own biological son, Ethan.
It is a beautiful lie on my part, but I enjoy watching the way the muscles in her jaw lock up when she is pissed off. She despises any reminder of the affair that brought Adrian under her roof.
She ignores me completely and turns to the woman behind her. “Mrs. Iyani.”
A woman who I assume is the chief maid judging from her black uniform, which is different from the other maids’ grey uniforms, steps forward. Her hair is pulled back in a bun so tight it has to hurt. She looks to be in her late 50s. Her eyes meet mine for a dark, chilling second. Then she looks down.
“Ma,” Mrs. Iyani says quietly.
“Take her to the guest wing,” Victoria says, her eyes still pinned onto mine. “Near the laundry. She will be comfortable there.”
A bitter laugh tears out of me before I can stop it. “Laundry. Sure. Nothing says ‘welcome to the family’ like the scent of bleach.”
For the first time since we came to the house, Adrian moves. He has been standing like a detached statue by the stairs this whole time.
“She’s not staying there,” he says, his deep baritone sounding completely bored by the whole shenanigan going on.
Victoria turns to him, her movements slow and sharp. “Excuse me?”
“I said she is not staying there. East suite,” he says.
He overrules his stepmother without a second thought and then walks off down the hall, past his family, past me. It is a quiet, powerful act of protection that leaves an explosive silence behind him.
Victoria recovers fast. Too fast. “East suite it is then,” she says to Mrs. Iyani.
“Yes, Ma.”
But her eyes cut back to me, lingering on the wet hem of my wedding dress and the way my hands are subtly shaking. A dangerous, venomous look flickers in her eyes.
“Dinner’s in an hour," she says softly. "And also... Vanessa is flying in tonight. She heard.”
Vanessa. That name sounds awfully familiar, but the throbbing ache in my chest keeps me from placing it.
ONE HOUR LATER
The dining room could have comfortably housed 30 people but there are only 3 of us there. Oh four, if I count the unpaid bodyguard standing behind me. Seriously, there is definitely something deeply unsettling about this Mrs. Iyani.
I taste my soup. It is cold. Of course it was.
“So,” Victoria starts, her voice breaking the heavy silence. “A Bennet.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, my voice dripping with defensive sarcasm.
Victoria’s eye twitches. Behind me, Mrs. Iyani makes a sound that is a half snort, a half chuckle. Adrian is on his phone, completely oblivious to what is happening.
“Mrs. Iyani,” Victoria says with a completely sweet voice. “Aria needs more bread.”
The maid comes around. Close. Too close.
I’ve seen this exact scene in trashy dramas. My instincts scream a warning, but before I can move, Mrs. Iyani makes as if to reach for the bread basket but ends up dropping the heavy jar of water directly ON ME and completely on purpose.
The water comes down in a slow, cruel arc. Ice cold. Right across my chest. It soaks through the thin fabric of my dress in 2 seconds flat.
The sheer, biting cold hits my skin, and my breath catches sharply in my throat as a wave of intense humiliation washes over me.
“Oh!” Mrs. Iyani gasps, bringing both hands to her mouth, her eyes huge. Had to give it to the woman; she is an excellent actress. Could easily be selected as best actress of the year. Finally, I found somebody who can match my acting prowess. “Mrs. Bennet, I’m so sorry! I’m such a klutz!”
She is already aggressively dabbing at me with a napkin, but her dabbing just pushes the freezing water in deeper.
Victoria pretends to be surprised, a small, victorious smile playing on her lips. “Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Iyani. These things do happen.”
I look down. My dress is completely see-through now, clinging miserably to my skin. Shivering, I look up at Adrian. His expression is completely unreadable, his grey eyes tracking the dripping water, but he doesn't say a word to stop them.
A hot, blinding surge of fury flares to life inside me. I turn toward Victoria, forcing a sharp, venomous grin onto my face to mask how exposed I feel.
“If you don’t mind, I will like to go get a change of clothing,” I say.
“Sure,” Victoria says, wearing the smug smile of someone who thinks she won a battle.
As I stand up to go, the wet hem of my dress drags heavily. I take two deliberate steps toward Victoria’s side of the table.
Then, deliberately tripping on my steps, I aggressively strike the edge of her soup bowl, causing the steaming wild mushroom broth to dump itself entirely onto her silk gown, which must have cost a fortune.
Victoria goes completely hysterical, launching herself out of her chair with a shriek. “You bitch! How dare you pull this dirty trick on me? Do you know how much this dress cost?”
I step forward until I am directly in her personal space, barely apart from her by a few inches.
“Well,” I say, my voice dropping into a dangerously sweet whisper. “What can I say? ‘These things do happen,’ right? And you might want to mind the language, Victoria. You wouldn’t want people spreading rumors about how vulgar the mistress of the Cole family can be, would you?”
I don’t even wait to see her reaction as I turn and skedaddle out of there. If there is one thing father had taught me before he went to jail, it was to create tension in a room and leave when it was still red hot.
As I am turning to leave the grand room, I catch sight of something that strangely makes my chest tighten and warm up all at once.
It is the sight of Adrian staring directly at me, a dark, unmistakable smirk pulling at his lips.
Our eyes lock across the chaotic room, throwing a sudden spark of heat straight through the freezing chill of my clothes.
