Esme stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the delicate straps of her dress. The outfit she had chosen was bold—deliberately so. A silky black slip dress that clung to her curves, the plunging neckline exposing a scandalous amount of skin, while the high slit up her thigh made every step she took look sensual, effortless. Her long, dark hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, and a pair of gold heels accentuated the graceful length of her legs.
She reached for a pair of dangling earrings, fastening them as she admired her reflection. She looked confident, untouchable. And most of all, she looked like a woman who didn't care what Kael White thought.
A slow smirk curled her lips.
As she grabbed her clutch and turned toward the door, a voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.
"And where do you think you're going?"
Esme glanced up, her smirk widening when she saw Kael standing near the doorway, his dark eyes trailing over her in quiet assessment.
He wasn't just looking.
He was analyzing.
And Esme knew exactly what he was thinking.
She let her lips part slightly, feigning innocence. "Out."
Kael's expression hardened. "Out where?"
"To tour Italy." She shrugged, walking past him deliberately slow, making sure he caught the intoxicating scent of her perfume. "With the driver."
His jaw ticked. "Like that?"
Esme turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
Kael exhaled through his nose, the muscles in his neck tensing. "Go and change."
She let out a short, amused laugh. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he said darkly, stepping toward her. "Go change into something else."
Esme tilted her head, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up just a little more—not that she cared what he thought, of course.
"I don't recall giving you control over my wardrobe, Kael."
Kael's eyes darkened, his fingers flexing at his sides. "That dress is too revealing."
"According to you."
"According to anyone with eyes."
Esme rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well, lucky for me, I don't live my life based on your standards." She turned toward the door. "I'm leaving."
Before she could take another step, Kael's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist firmly—but not roughly. Just enough to stop her in her tracks.
"You really enjoy pushing me, don't you?" His voice was dangerously low, his grip warm against her skin.
Esme met his gaze, chin lifting defiantly. "And you really enjoy acting like you own me, don't you?"
His hold tightened for a brief second before he released her, exhaling sharply. He hated arguments. They frustrated him, annoyed him.
And she was enjoying every second of it.
Kael dragged a hand through his hair before straightening his posture, his features unreadable. "Fine," he said. "Do what you want."
Esme blinked, momentarily thrown off by his sudden surrender. She expected more resistance. More frustration.
But then—
"We're leaving tomorrow," Kael said smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.
Esme frowned. "Leaving?"
"We're going back home," he clarified. "To the family house."
A sense of unease crept up her spine. "Why?"
Kael's lips curved into something unreadable, something almost… final.
"As soon as we get back, wedding preparations will begin."
Esme's breath caught.
Kael didn't wait for a response.
Didn't wait for her to argue.
He simply went back to whatever he was doing, leaving her standing there in the middle of the room, her heart pounding.
For the first time in a long time, Esme had nothing to say.
****. ****. ****.