Surprise? Or not?.

The dining room shimmered under the soft glow of the chandelier. The long mahogany table was set with gleaming silverware, wine glasses catching the warm light, and elegant porcelain plates already filled with the chef’s best.

Rebekah and Leonardo sat across from us, directly facing me and Sebastian. Rebekah looked too comfortable—leaning into Leonardo’s side, her manicured hand resting lightly on his arm. She wore a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, the same fake grin she used to wear when she’d lie to my face and stab me in the back.

I sat upright, my back stiff, eyes trying not to roll every time she laughed too loud or looked at Sebastian too long.

Sebastian, of course, was relaxed. One arm rested on the armrest of his chair, the other curled possessively around the back of mine. Occasionally, he’d lean over to whisper something in my ear, and each time, I had to suppress a shiver. The man radiated heat—both literal and emotional. And it drove me insane that I couldn’t tell where the boundaries were anymore.

“So, Rose,” Rebekah said sweetly, lifting her wine glass to her lips, “how does it feel living in luxury now? Quite the upgrade, right?”

I offered a small smile, my fork slicing through a piece of the steak. “I’d say it’s more like… a temporary arrangement with an expiration date.”

Sebastian’s fingers gently touched my thigh beneath the table, a silent warning. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. His expression remained neutral, but the message was clear—ease up.

Rebekah smirked. “Temporary? Hmm, I don’t know about that. From what I’ve heard, things are getting quite serious. But then again, you’ve always been dramatic.”

Leonardo chuckled lightly, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Let’s not get too intense. Rebekah, did you hear about the new expansion plans for the Dubai property? I think it’s something you and Rosita might actually bond over.”

I barely registered his words. My blood simmered from Rebekah’s dig, but before I could clap back, Sebastian shifted in his seat. Without a word, he reached for the napkin, leaned toward me, and gently wiped the corner of my lips. “You had a bit of sauce,” he murmured casually, not breaking eye contact with his brother.

Then—God help me—he licked the sauce off the napkin slowly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, before setting it back beside my plate. My breath hitched.

Leonardo raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

“Must be love,” he teased.

Rebekah blinked, the smile on her lips twitching slightly.

Sebastian finally spoke, his voice smooth as velvet. “Actually, I was going to wait until dessert, but I might as well say it now.”

I turned toward him, confused.

He didn’t look at me—just raised his glass and spoke to the room. “The wedding is next week. Everything’s already being handled. We’ll be announcing it to the press tomorrow.”

My entire body went cold.

What?

My fork clattered to the plate.

Rebekah’s smirk grew wider. “Oh, how exciting. So sudden, too.”

I stood abruptly, the chair screeching slightly against the floor. All eyes turned to me.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice tight, barely holding back the emotions building in my throat.

“Rosita—” Sebastian started, but I had already turned away.

I walked quickly, heels echoing on the marble floor as I exited the dining room and turned down the hallway. I didn’t know where I was going, I just needed to breathe. To think.

He didn’t even ask me. Not once. Just decided. As if I was some pawn in a game he was playing. Just like my father did. Just like everyone always did.

I made it to the garden, the cool evening air brushing against my skin, grounding me. My hands trembled slightly as I wrapped them around my elbows. I wasn’t just sad—I was furious. Furious at him for making that announcement without warning. Furious at myself for the tiny piece of me that had hoped maybe… just maybe… there could be something real between us.

“Rosita.”

His voice came from behind, low and unhurried.

I didn’t turn.

“I thought we talked about this,” he said, approaching me slowly. “This marriage was never a choice.”

I spun to face him. “Exactly. So why act like it’s some romantic story you get to share over wine with your brother?”

His jaw tightened. “You’re upset.”

“No,” I snapped. “I’m devastated, Sebastian. I’m marrying a man I barely know. A man who touches me like he owns me, who whispers sweet threats and expects obedience like it’s love. And now, I’m being paraded around as your fiancée like I’m thrilled about it!”

He stepped closer. “You are mine, Rosita. Whether you like it or not. And everything I do is to protect what’s mine.”

“You don’t get to say that!” I barked. “You don’t get to call me yours when you’ve never even asked what I want.”

He looked at me for a long, heavy moment. Then, in a rare moment of softness, he said quietly, “What do you want, Rosita?”

I swallowed hard. The lump in my throat grew. “I want freedom. I want to be with someone who sees me. Not just someone who touches me when it suits them or throws me into fancy dresses like a doll.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered. Like maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t expected me to say that.

For a moment, we stood there in silence, the night air between us.

He finally nodded once. “Fine. I’ll give you space tonight. But remember this, Rosita…” He took another step closer, his hand brushing my cheek so lightly it almost didn’t happen. “I never touch what I don’t intend to keep.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me stunned and breathless beneath the stars.