Before I even saw the person, his voice reached me first.
I lifted my head and saw a young man in a dark suit walking toward us, a glass of red wine in his hand. With every step he took, the wine swayed gently. Its fragrance quickly drifted across the hall, the kind of aroma that told me instantly it was an expensive vintage.
Light from the massive chandelier above poured down on him, gilding his entire face. I had to admit the Anderson genes were no joke.
The man was strikingly handsome, his skin pale but in a healthy, luminous way, not the sickly kind. Narrow phoenix eyes lifted slightly at the corners, and when he smiled under that lighting, he looked warm, welcoming almost too hospitable.
As he approached, I realized he was tall around one-eighty-something, a little shorter than Captian. Compared to his open, cheerful aura, Captian beside me remained cold, emotionless… even colder than usual.
A chill crawled up my spine.
Did Captian dislike this man?
Even though Captian stayed silent, the newcomer kept his bright smile, shifting his gaze to me.
"Hello, sister-in-law. I'm Jonas, Captian's cousin."
I gave him a polite smile.
"I'm Rosy Bailey."
I didn't add anything else better to speak less than to say something wrong. Besides, I could feel the icy aura radiating off Captian. It was frightening.
Jonas smiled politely back, then turned to Captian, still unbothered by his coldness.
"Captian, when I saw the news on Facebook a few days ago, I was shocked. I didn't expect you to quietly go register your marriage like that. You're the head of the Anderson family now how could you make such a big decision without saying a word to Aunt? Her mood hasn't been great since hearing the news."
At those words, Captian shot him a glance cold, sharp, merciless. Jonas instantly stopped talking. He rubbed his nose awkwardly.
"I was just saying casually, don't be angry…"
Captian's thin lips parted, voice heavy with intimidation.
"Stuffing your mouth doesn't stop you from running it."
Jonas' legs nearly buckled, sweat gathering at his temples.
Captian withdrew his gaze, his entire expression sinking into something darker, more dangerous. Standing beside him, even I could feel the oppressive aura rolling off him. But more than fear, I sensed something else:
He hated this place.
His brows were drawn tight. His broad, strong back seemed strangely lonely, disconnected from the lively hall around us. He didn't like this home.
He didn't like these people.
No surprise there an old-money family like the Andersons surely had countless secrets they didn't want outsiders to know.
So I simply stayed quietly by his side, not saying a word.
Captian frowned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me away without sparing Jonas another glance.
Jonas watched us leave, his head slightly lowered, and in an instant the warm smile on his face extinguished. Hatred flickered in his eyes.
The Anderson main hall was massive, like the lobby of a five-star hotel. Long tables were filled with exquisite pastries and premium wines everything self-serve, luxurious, excessive.
Captian pulled me toward a quieter corner by the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a plush sofa, trays of desserts and snacks, and drinks close enough that I could reach out and grab anything I wanted.
It felt like a small slice of paradise.
"Sit," Captian said, lifting his eyes toward me.
I smoothed my dress and sat beside him.
Many relatives clearly wanted to come greet us, but one look at Captian's blackened expression made them scatter like frightened birds.
Honestly? Good. I wasn't good at dealing with those people anyway.
I happily started eating the desserts, only to realize Captian was staring at me.
I jolted so hard I almost dropped my pastry.
"Um… Mr. Anderson, do you want some?" I asked cautiously.
My voice was soft, my eyes misty under the light, I could tell even I seemed gentle enough to melt someone.
The coldness in his heart seemed to ease.
He said, low and calm:
"Feed me."
I stared at him.
Of course.
Of course he would say something shameless like that.
There were relatives everywhere, watching, judging. And he still wanted me to feed him? Were his hands purely decorative?
But under his coercive gaze, I had no choice but to obey.
I lifted a fragrant osmanthus pastry to his lips.
Captian lowered his eyes and took a bite. Sweet but not as sweet as her.
Just as I began to pull my hand back, he suddenly licked the tip of my finger.
Warm. Damp. Electric.
My breath caught.
I stared at him in shock, he was blatantly messing with me.
And to make things worse, plenty of relatives were watching us. They had been dying of curiosity over his mysterious wife, and now they were seeing him being fed by me like we were in our own little world, surrounded by floating pink bubbles.
Too intimate.
Far too intimate.
The Anderson family prided itself on refinement and strict etiquette, and yet here we were publicly feeding each other like some scandalous couple. To them, this must be utterly disgraceful.
Compared to the William family's eldest daughter, I must look so plain, so unworthy.
But I didn't care what they thought.
Right now, priority number one was keeping Captian calm so he wouldn't go crazy on me.
The pastries were too sweet anyway, so after a few bites he murmured for me to stop feeding him.
I grinned, unable to hide the amusement in my eyes.
"Well, if you're not eating it, I will."
Captian didn't respond, just swirled the wine in his glass. Red liquid rippled like waves, his gaze sinking deeper, something unreadable lingering in his expression.
I bit into a piece of cake and glanced at him again.
There he goes looking dangerous for no reason.
I reached for another pastry when a middle-aged woman approached us. She looked like a servant. She bowed respectfully and said:
"Mr. Anderson, Madam is waiting for you in her room. She requests that you come immediately."
Captian froze mid-motion. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by a cold, stormy darkness.
This woman, Mina. She served Jessica Anderson, the Anderson family matriarch. She was experienced, well-trained, and didn't flinch at Captian's intimidating presence.
She bowed, then looked at me.
Her expression shifted no longer respectful, but laced with a faint disdain.
"Of course, Miss Bailey will need to come as well."
My brow furrowed.
The pastry in my hand suddenly tasted bland.
Did they really think I wanted to set foot into this nest of vipers?
If Captian weren't gripping me so tightly all the time, I would've run far, far away.
"Mr. Anderson… I have to go too?" I asked reluctantly, setting down the plate.
Captian didn't answer.
Instead, he simply took my wrist, pulled me to my feet, and slowly slid his hand downward until our fingers intertwined.
Only then did he speak:
"Follow me."
"Oh…" I lowered my eyes.
I stared at our tightly linked hand, ten fingers interlaced.
My feelings twisted into something tangled and hard to define.
Ten fingers intertwined…