"Here she is," Eliza said lightly.
Ling stepped into the room.
For half a second, the world narrowed.
Rhea turned.
Their eyes met.
And both of them forgot—just for a breath—how to breathe.
Ling saw fire dressed as control.
The red dress cut Rhea like it had been designed with intention, the slit revealing strength, not invitation. The gold at her collarbone caught candlelight, the nose ring glinting like a quiet challenge. And lower—Ling's gaze betrayed her for the briefest moment—the delicate waist chain, the subtle hint of the navel piercing beneath fabric.
Dangerous.
Rhea saw power sharpened into red.
The blazer framed Ling's shoulders like armor, the black shirt beneath grounding the heat, the red vest adding depth she hadn't expected. The printed tie loosened just enough to suggest invitation without surrender. The lapel jewelry—old money, quiet dominance—sealed it.
A ruler.
Their breaths hitched—just slightly.
Just enough.
Both noticed.
Both hid it.
Ling's expression smoothed first. "You're on time."
Rhea lifted her chin. "You sound disappointed."
Ling's lips curved faintly. "I don't get disappointed."
Rhea's mouth twitched. "Of course you don't."
Eliza watched carefully. Victor pretended not to. Rina and Dadi noticed everything.
Ling stepped closer, posture relaxed, dominance returned. "Dinner's ready."
Rhea smelled something dark and expensive—wine, roses, Ling.
Table was long, polished, set with crystal and gold-rimmed cutlery, candles burning low and steady. Wine breathed in expensive decanters. Everything precise. Everything watched.
Ling took her seat at the head without comment. Rhea sat where Eliza gestured—two seats down, close enough to feel, far enough to behave.
They ate.
Quiet at first.
The clink of cutlery. The low murmur of servants moving in and out. Victor discussed trivial matters. Rina responded with half-attention.
Rhea kept her posture immaculate—back straight, movements economical. She refused to look at Ling more than necessary.
Ling noticed anyway.
Every small thing.
The way Rhea's fingers curled around the stem of the glass.
The way the slit in her dress shifted when she crossed her legs.
The faint glint of gold at her waist when she reached for bread.
Dadi cleared her throat dramatically.
"So," she said, eyes dancing, "it's rare we have dinner guests chosen personally by Ling."
Rhea smiled politely. "I'll take that as an honor."
Ling shot Dadi a sharp look. Enough.
Dadi ignored it completely.
"Red suits you," Dadi added, nodding toward Ling. "But to someone—" she turned to Rhea, "—it suits like intention."
Rhea's fingers tightened briefly around her fork.
Ling's jaw clenched.
"Dadi," Ling warned softly.
Victor coughed to hide a smile. Rina leaned forward, enjoying herself far too much.
Dadi leaned back, innocent. "What? I'm complimenting."
Rhea lifted her gaze at last, meeting Ling's eyes for a split second—just long enough to acknowledge the tension.
Then she looked away.
"I appreciate compliments," Rhea said calmly. "As long as they stay compliments."
Ling's lips twitched.
She raised her glass slightly toward Rhea. "Eat."
The command was quiet. Familiar.
Rhea stiffened—then lifted her fork again, refusing to react.
Eliza watched the exchange closely, expression pleasant, calculating.
Dadi sighed theatrically. "Such discipline. Both of you. It's exhausting."
Ling's glare finally landed full force. Stop.
Dadi lifted her hands. "Fine. Fine."
Rhea chewed slowly, determined not to feel the way Ling's presence pressed against her senses.
Ling ate with controlled precision, determined not to reach.
Dadi set her glass down with a soft clink.
"So," she said casually, eyes on Rhea, "you told us your sister Shyra is married."
Rhea nodded. "Yes. And she has a baby."
"Oh," Dadi said, pleased. "What's her name?"
"Amaya," Rhea replied instantly. Her expression softened without permission. "She's—" she stopped herself, then smiled anyway. "She's everything."
Dadi noticed that softness. Of course she did.
"You love her," Dadi said.
"So much," Rhea admitted. No hesitation.
Dadi leaned forward slightly, tone still light—but now dangerously so.
"Then what about having your own?"
Silence.
Rhea froze.
Eyes widening just a fraction. Spine locking. Like someone had reached inside her chest and squeezed.
The table reacted before she could.
Victor coughed. Rina choked on her water. Eliza stiffened.
Ling coughed loudly—too loudly—cutting through the moment like a blade.
"Dadi," Ling snapped. "Enough."
Dadi blinked.
Then realization hit.
"Oh," she said slowly. "Oh."
Rhea forced a breath, lifting her glass to cover the pause. "That's… not a discussion for tonight. I think."
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
Ling's hand tightened around her fork, knuckles whitening.
Dadi cleared her throat, uncharacteristically subdued. "Yes. Right. My fault."
The conversation shifted clumsily. Victor started talking about business. Rina followed eagerly. Eliza smiled and nodded, rescuing the table.
But something had already cracked.
Rhea didn't eat much after that.
Ling didn't taste anything at all.
Dadi drew breath again.
Ling saw it before anyone else.
"No—" Ling started.
But Rina was faster.
"Dadi," she cut in brightly, leaning forward, "did I tell you about the charity auction next week? The one you insisted we sponsor?"
Victor immediately followed. "Yes, yes—three organizations approached us today. One from Milan, very impressive."
Eliza picked up the thread without missing a beat. "And the guest list needs revision. Last year's crowd was… excessive."
Dadi opened her mouth, clearly ready to continue—
Rina laughed loudly. "Excessive? You invited half of Europe."
Victor chuckled. "Only half."
The table filled with overlapping voices, deliberately chaotic. Plates were shifted, glasses refilled. Servants were summoned. Noise replaced tension.
Rhea sat still, grateful but guarded, eyes lowered to her plate.
Ling exhaled slowly.
Dadi looked around, registering the sudden wall of conversation. She huffed softly, tapping her cane once.
"Oh, I see," she muttered. "A full mutiny."
Eliza smiled sweetly. "For everyone's comfort."
Dadi studied Rhea briefly—gentler now, thoughtful—then leaned back.
"Fine," she said. "I'll behave."
The night moved on.
Laughter returned, practiced and polite. The earlier question dissolved into chatter about events, investments, travel.
But beneath the surface—
Rhea's shoulders never fully relaxed.
Ling's gaze returned to her again and again, sharp with something dangerously close to concern.
The family had saved the moment.
But the echo of it stayed—
quiet, waiting—
for when there would be no table,
no witnesses,
and no one left to interrupt.