Chapter 43
Chapter
Forty-Three
KAYLANI
The closet wasn’t a closet. It was a damn declaration.
Floor-to-ceiling glass doors slid open at my touch, revealing racks of dresses, pants, blouses, and even riding clothes and shoes organized by color. Jewelry was displayed in velvet-lined drawers. Lingerie folded with deliberate care.
Everything was my size. Not guessed. But measured to perfection.
My fingertips skimmed across silk and satin as a cold realization settled in my chest. Father and Julian had planned this together.
Not since Vegas, not since the arrest, but long before.
There had never really been a choice. They just hoped that I would choose him so it would feel like my decision. Conniving snakes.
I forced myself to breathe evenly. This wasn’t romance. It was procurement. Now I couldn’t help but wonder what my father earned from selling me off. Just how much was I worth?
A ruby gown with a structured bodice caught my eye. I ran it through my hands, admiring the perfect lines and tiny details. The skirt flowed to the floor, with a slit daring enough to draw attention, and fabric lavish enough to demand it.
If I were forced to sit at their table, I would not look small.
Every movement was intentional as I slowly dressed. The gown hugged my waist and shimmered in the light.
I left my hair down but added a light curl so it fell in waves that reminded me of the ocean outside the bedroom window. The gold band remained at my throat. Let them notice it and wonder.
When I was ready, I knocked on the door, and Sven opened it immediately. As I stepped into the hallway, he gave a subtle nod.
“Ready?”
“No. But that’s never stopped anyone from expecting things from me before, and I don’t believe it’ll end anytime soon.”
His mouth twitched imperceptibly as amusement touched his dark brown eyes. Before I let him lead me toward whatever awaited, I touched his arm.
“Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“On the contrary.” I smiled. “You make me feel less alone.”
Sven held out his elbow. “Shall we?”
I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm. The last person I had walked with like this was my husband. My chest hadn’t stopped aching since I left Goran’s arms.
Downstairs, the dining room was already filled with lively chatter. A long table stretched across the room, set for a feast. Candlelight flickered against polished silver and crystal.
Julian stood when I entered. And for just a second, his expression shifted. Possession? Appreciation, maybe. It felt more like a calculation.
“You look extraordinary.”
“Thank you,” I said, stepping away from Sven and moving to the empty seat on Julian’s left.
“I had a feeling you’d like that dress.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Father was seated across from me, but I didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, I surveyed the rest of the table. An older man and woman, whom I assumed were Julian’s parents, and three men who must be his brothers.
They all stared.
I remained quiet and composed, letting Julian take the lead rather than smiling and fawning all over them as another prospective bride might have.
“This is my father, Arturo Harrington, and my mother, Isadora.”
Pride emanated from every word.
Arturo rose from his seat as I slowly made my way to their side of the table and held out my hand. He took it and brought it up to his lips in a polite kiss. He was tall, silver at the temples, eyes like polished stone. He radiated old money and older violence.
“Welcome, Kaylani. You’re even more beautiful than my son described.”
“Thank you, Mr. Harrington.”
His mother stood and drew me into a hug, air kissing my cheeks. She wore a warm smile that sparkled as brightly as the diamonds around her neck. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her eyes studied me with sharp interest. Not warm, not cold, more assessing.
“And these three are my annoying younger brothers,” Julian jested, following me this time, and settling his hand on the small of my back.
I bit back the urge to tell him not to touch me.
“Please. You’re only older than me by two minutes,” the one closest to me said as he stood.
They resembled each other but not close enough to be considered identical. Fraternal twins, then.
“I’m Matteo.”
He wore a casual and charming smile, but his eyes were too observant. A politician, if there ever was one.
“Nice to meet you, Matteo.”
He shook my hand, and I appreciated the firmness of his grip.
“I’m Luca,” the second one interrupted, but didn’t stand.
His tone was almost aggressive, like he wanted to be here about as much as I did. He was the only one with blond hair, which made him stand out immediately. He had broad shoulders and a scar cutting through his eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me like I was a problem.
“And I’m the best of the bunch. Adriano, at your service.”
The third brother stood and pulled me into a hug that was far too close and handsy for someone I had just met.
When he stepped back, his grin carried a devilish edge, and he didn’t look much older than me.
I pegged him as the life of the party, the kind whose morals disappeared when women were involved.
The way his hand lingered on mine and his attention drifted briefly to my chest confirmed my suspicion.
My father sat beside Arturo, discussing business as if they were kings.
Julian held my chair as I sat down. Soft music filtered into the room from speakers I couldn’t see. Wine was poured, and the first course arrived. Conversation remained polite, as if we were actors following a script.
Arturo steepled his fingers, observing me with quiet intensity that had me bracing for whatever came next.
“Your riding career…impressive for someone so young.”
Not what I had been expecting.
“Thank you. I’ve worked very hard.”
“You’ll enjoy it here.” He pointed toward the window. “There are stables on the lower property. We breed Andalusians. You might like to ride while you’re here.”
A lead line disguised as a generous offer.
“That’s thoughtful, and I’m sure I will. But I have a real bond with my horse. We’re a team.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Your horse will be transported once things settle.”
Once things settle?
Julian leaned back slightly in his chair, every bit as self-important as I remembered.
“I imagine this has been overwhelming for you.” He waved his hand around the room. “Sudden travel. Media whispers. Your father’s…decisive nature.”
Dimitri didn’t react to the comment.
Julian’s gaze lingered on me.
“But you are safe here.”
“I’m not so easily flustered, and I didn’t realize I was in any danger.” I met his eyes and held them. “What am I safe from, exactly?”
A shadow crossed his face. Subtle, but unmistakable.
“From poor decisions.”
My fingers tightened slightly beneath the table.
Poor decisions.
Marrying Goran. Loving Goran. Choosing Goran over this arrogant prick. No, I had made no poor decisions.
Julian reached for his wine glass.
“I understand attachments can be difficult to sever.” He chose his words carefully. “But some relationships are not designed for longevity.”
My heart thumped hard under my ribs.
“Are you saying we won’t last long? Wouldn’t that make you the bad decision?”
Julian froze, wine glass half way to his mouth.
Silence settled around the room. Everyone went still, waiting to see what might happen next.
My father’s voice cut through the air.
“Kaylani, I’ve had quite enough of your attitude.”
I glared at my father, my blood boiling.
“That’s okay, Dimitri. I like that Kaylani speaks her mind.” Julian’s smile returned, but there was ice in it now as he leaned a little closer. “And no, I was not referring to our upcoming marriage.”
I took a sip of my water to ease the burning rage inside of me, but it didn’t help. “Oh? Well then you’ll have to excuse me. I don’t know who you’re referring to.”
Julian smirked as we verbally jousted.
“I wasn’t meaning anyone in particular, just your old life in general. But, I’m sure you’ll find that Mallorca is very peaceful. Especially when one cooperates.”
There it was. Not a threat per se, but a subtle warning wrapped in silk.
Saying nothing was the politest thing I could do in this situation, so I stood.
“Oh, my dear, dessert hasn’t been served yet. Are you leaving,” Isadora asked.
“I’m afraid so. Maybe I am overwhelmed after all,” I said, shooting Julian a look.
My father rose and placed his hands on the table.
“You’ll sit back down and remain here with your betrothed, or our deal is off.”
Pulling in a long breath, I forced a calm that I didn’t feel.
“We’ll speak in the morning about appropriate behavior. I’ll return in a moment,” he said and walked out.
As a girl, I’d never imagined a day when I could hate my father. Our relationship had always felt special to me, like whatever quarrels he had with my brothers were simply men being men, and we were different. That was na?ve.
How could I have been so blind?
I sat back down and picked up my water.
Remain. Not stay. Remain.
What the fuck was that?
Julian motioned to my untouched wine glass.
“Are you not having any? I promise it’s some of the best in the world.”
“I don’t drink.”
His brows drew together. “But…”
“I’m on a clean diet for training purposes. My coach’s orders,” I lied, unsure where I had come up with such a reasonable excuse so quickly.
“Oh. Very well.”
He lifted my glass and took a sip.
“Are you really going to let your wife travel the world, riding horses?”
I fixed Luca with a hard stare, but he ignored me. The question had been aimed at his brother.
“There will be adjustments, of course. Public optics matter. But I’m confident we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement.”
Optics. Mutually beneficial agreement. Are you kidding me?
“I think what you’re trying not to say is that I have limited freedom, and competing will only fall under that umbrella when it suits you. Does that just about cover it?”