The moment Cynthia stepped over the threshold, her cold expression vanished. The muscles in her face shifted, pulling her lips into a soft, polite smile. It didn't reach her eyes, but it was flawless.

Dominic stepped out right behind her. The murderous rage in his eyes was instantly buried under a mask of calm composure. The rigid tension in his jaw melted away.

To sell the lie, Dominic reached out. His large, warm hand settled firmly on the curve of Cynthia's waist.

Cynthia's breath hitched. Her entire body went rigid as a board at the sudden physical contact. Her stomach muscles tightened instinctively. But she forced herself to exhale, leaning her weight slightly against his side.

They walked back into the living room, moving in perfect, sickening harmony.

Eleonora saw them and clapped her hands together, tears of joy welling in her eyes. The deep wrinkles on her face smoothed out in pure delight.

Sitting on the sofa, Inger gripped her silk handkerchief so tightly her knuckles cracked. Her eyes burned with a jealousy so toxic it practically radiated off her skin.

Dominic looked at the room, his voice smooth and entirely devoid of the venom from five minutes ago. "Cynthia and I have reached an understanding. We are officially engaged."

He looked down at Cynthia, his eyes dead but his smile perfect. "My legal team will deliver the formal gifts and the ring tomorrow morning."

Cynthia lowered her eyelashes, playing the demure bride, while her stomach churned with nausea.

Dominic checked his platinum Patek Philippe watch. "Unfortunately, I have an urgent cross-border conference call. I must return to the city."

Eleonora waved him off happily. "Go, go! Cynthia, darling, walk your fiancé to his car."

Cynthia had no choice. She walked with Dominic out the front doors, down the sweeping stone steps, and across the gravel driveway to where the black Maybach idled.

The second they were out of sight of the windows, Dominic's hand snapped back from her waist like he had touched burning coals. He aggressively brushed the fabric of his suit jacket where his arm had rested against her.

Cynthia didn't miss a beat. She vigorously brushed the fabric of her sweater with her own hand where his palm had rested, slapping the wool over and over again, acting as if she were dusting off something utterly repulsive and diseased.

Dominic sneered. "Don't get too deep into the role. You aren't Mrs. Church." He ducked into the luxurious backseat of the car.

Cynthia slammed the heavy car door shut in his face. "Have a terrible trip," she mouthed through the tinted glass.

The Maybach crunched over the gravel and disappeared down the road. Cynthia let out a long, exhausting breath. Her facial muscles ached from the fake smiling.

She turned and walked back into the house, heading straight for the stairs. She needed the sanctuary of her room.

As she climbed the thick carpeted steps to the second floor, she paused. Near the corner of the hallway, hidden behind a massive Roman pillar and a potted fern, she heard hushed, excited voices.

Cynthia pressed her back against the wall, holding her breath.

It was Eleonora and Celia.

"Did you hear them?" Eleonora whispered loudly, practically vibrating with excitement. "A thirty-day contract! My idiot grandson thinks he can outsmart me!"

Celia giggled. "They looked so good together, though! The tension was crazy."

"We cannot let them just wait out the clock," Eleonora declared, her tone turning conspiratorial. "We need to force their hands. We need to throw them into the fire. I want a great-grandchild, and I want it now."

"I'm in," Celia promised eagerly. "I'll tell you their schedules. Whatever you need, Mrs. Church."

The two women high-fived behind the pillar.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Cynthia's neck. A secret alliance between a billionaire matriarch and her gossipy cousin. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

She shook her head, praying she was just being paranoid, and hurried quietly down the hall to her room.

Chapter 6

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