A sleek black car purred to a halt under the grand car shed of the Martins mansion. The sprawling estate exuded wealth and power. Matthew stepped out of the driver's seat, his polished shoes clicking against the stone pavement as he adjusted the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. Hazel followed, her heels making a rhythmic sound as she stepped down. She gazed at the mansion with a sense of awe and excitement.
"This is only my second time here," Hazel said, her voice laced with wonder as her eyes roamed the elegant façade.
Matthew glanced at her, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Get used to it. Soon, it'll feel like home."
Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled back at him. Together, they walked toward the grand entrance, the cool morning breeze rustling through the trees. The guards stationed at the door greeted them with a polite nod.
"Good morning, Mr. Matthew."
"Morning," Matthew replied curtly, leading Hazel inside.
The Martins mansion's interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior. The vast marble-floored foyer opened into a luxurious living room adorned with expensive furniture, crystal chandeliers, and an ornate fireplace. Seated on one of the plush armchairs, Mr. Martel Martins, Matthew's father, was reading a newspaper. His piercing gaze flickered upward as he noticed his son entering, followed by Hazel.
Matthew approached his father, his expression carefully composed. "Good morning, Dad."
Mr. Martins folded the newspaper and placed it on the table beside him. His sharp eyes lingered on Hazel for a moment before returning to his son. "Morning," he said evenly. His tone shifted as he gestured toward Hazel. "And what is your fiancée's twin sister doing here?"
Hazel smiled politely, her confidence unwavering under his scrutinizing gaze. She and Helena were fraternal twins, and while they shared some similarities, they were distinct enough to be easily told apart. Hazel's bold features and sultry demeanor contrasted with Helena's softer, more understated elegance.
Matthew, unfazed, offered a casual smile. "Hazel's here to help with the wedding preparations and some of the planning. She offered to lend a hand."
Mr. Martins studied him for a moment, his penetrating gaze making the air feel heavier. "I see," he said finally, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "One more thing," he added, his voice taking on a more serious edge. "I saw the video of Helena running out of the engagement party last night. What happened?"
The question hit Matthew like a punch to the gut. He cursed under his breath, his mind scrambling for an explanation. This wasn't a conversation he had prepared for.
Hazel, however, stepped in seamlessly, her voice calm and composed. "Helena wasn't feeling well last night," she said, meeting Mr. Martins' gaze with a practiced smile. "She didn't want to make a scene, so she left quietly. Matthew and I just came from her place, and she's feeling much better now."
Mr. Martins raised an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. "Is she really okay now?"
Hazel nodded confidently. "She is."
There was a pause before Mr. Martins gave a single, approving nod. "Good." He glanced back at Matthew, his stern demeanor returning. "Make sure this doesn't happen again. The last thing we need is any embarrassment before the wedding."
"Of course, Dad," Matthew said, his tone measured.
With that, Mr. Martins returned to his newspaper, and Matthew gestured for Hazel to follow him. They ascended the grand staircase, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting.
When they reached Matthew's room, he opened the door and ushered Hazel inside. The space was luxurious yet minimalist, with dark wood furniture, sleek decor, and a large window that offered a stunning view of the estate.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Matthew turned to Hazel, his hands finding her waist. He pulled her close, his lips descending on hers in a heated kiss. Hazel melted into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as the kiss deepened. It was intense, unhurried, and possessive, lasting longer than either of them had intended.
When they finally broke apart, both were slightly breathless. Matthew leaned his forehead against hers, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice low and sincere.
Hazel tilted her head, her brows raised in question.
"For stepping in back there," he clarified, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "That was quick thinking. I didn't expect my father to bring up Helena like that."
Hazel smiled coyly, tracing a finger along his jawline. "You don't have to thank me. I wasn't about to let him corner you with questions. We're a team, remember?"
Matthew chuckled softly, his confidence returning. "You're right. We are."
He pulled her into another kiss, his grip on her waist tightening as if to affirm the bond they shared. Hazel smiled against his lips, fully aware of the power she wielded in this twisted relationship.
Matthew's lips lingered against Hazel's for a moment longer before he pulled away, his dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of admiration and something far more dangerous. He tightened his grip on her waist, his fingers digging slightly into her hips, as if she might slip away if he didn't hold her close enough.
"You really saved me back there," he said, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against her skin. "My father's not an easy man to convince. If he had the slightest suspicion about what we're doing…"
Hazel smirked, sliding her hands up his chest. "You don't have to worry about me," she whispered, her voice dripping with confidence. "I know how to handle men like him. Besides, you're not the only one with something to lose here."
Matthew chuckled, his fingers brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Still, I owe you one."
Hazel's smirk widened, but her gaze flickered, a shadow crossing her features for a split second. She tilted her head, her eyes locking with his. "Do you ever think about what would happen if Helena told your father about what happened?" she asked, her tone deceptively casual, but there was an edge to her question.
Matthew's smile didn't falter, but his grip on her waist loosened. He stepped back slightly, just enough to create a sliver of space between them. "Helena won't do that," he said firmly.
Hazel raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "She's not as naïve as you think, Matthew. She ran out last night, and you can't tell me you didn't see the way she looked at us when—"
"That's enough," Matthew interrupted sharply, his voice cold. For a moment, the playful charm in his expression disappeared, replaced by something darker. He turned away from her and ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening.
Hazel's smirk faded, and she took a hesitant step toward him. "Matthew…"
"She won't say anything," he said, more to himself than to her. "She's too weak. She's too afraid of upsetting her perfect little world. And even if she did—"
He turned back to Hazel, his eyes narrowing slightly. "—I know exactly how to handle her."
The way he said it sent a chill down Hazel's spine, though she didn't show it. Instead, she forced a smile and closed the distance between them again, resting her hands on his chest. "Of course you do," she said softly. "That's why I trust you. You always have everything under control."
Matthew's gaze softened slightly at her words, and he let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. He reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "And that's why you're the only one who understands me, Hazel. Helena never could."
Hazel leaned into his touch, but her mind was racing. She couldn't shake the feeling that Matthew's confidence in his ability to manipulate Helena was both his greatest strength and his fatal flaw.
The sound of a phone vibrating broke the tension between them. Hazel glanced toward the nightstand, where Matthew's phone buzzed insistently. He released her and walked over to pick it up, his expression unreadable as he glanced at the screen.
"Who is it?" Hazel asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she perched on the edge of the bed.
Matthew frowned, his thumb hovering over the screen. "It's my father."
Hazel's heart skipped a beat. "What does he want now?"
Matthew didn't answer immediately. Instead, he swiped to answer the call and pressed the phone to his ear. "Yes, Dad?"
Hazel watched him closely, her nerves on edge as she tried to decipher the conversation from his side.
"I understand," Matthew said after a long pause, his tone measured. "Yes, I'll take care of it. Don't worry."
He hung up and turned to Hazel, his expression unreadable.
"What did he say?" Hazel asked, unable to keep the curiosity—and slight fear—out of her voice.
Matthew's lips curved into a slow, calculated smile. "He wants me to go check on Helena. Apparently, he's not entirely convinced by your story about her being sick last night."
Hazel's eyes widened slightly. "And what are you going to do?"
Matthew's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Exactly what he expects me to do. Be the doting fiancé and make sure everything looks perfect from the outside."
Hazel bit her lip, a flicker of unease passing through her. "And what about us?"
Matthew stepped closer, his fingers tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "Nothing changes," he said softly, his voice almost hypnotic. "You're the one I want, Hazel. Helena's just a means to an end."
Hazel nodded slowly, but the unease in her chest didn't dissipate. As Matthew's lips found hers once more, she couldn't help but wonder how far he was willing to go to keep his perfect façade intact—and whether she'd be collateral damage if things ever went wrong.