Trapped By The Ruthless Billionaire Heir

Dinner resumed as if nothing had happened. The dessert course was served-tiramisu in delicate crystal bowls-and the conversation flowed around Adelia like water around a stone.

She sat in her isolated seat at the end of the table, her hands folded in her lap. She watched as Baylee picked up her fork and scooped up a bite of the dessert. With a coy smile, Baylee leaned over and fed the bite to Kain.

Kain swallowed, his face impassive. He didn't smile. He didn't thank her. But his eyes drifted down the long table, finding Adelia in the shadows.

She met his gaze. She didn't look away. She didn't flinch.

A distant aunt, seated a few chairs down from Adelia, leaned over. "Adelia, dear, isn't it exciting? Have you given any thought to the wedding arrangements? Perhaps you could help with the flowers."

Adelia reached for her wine glass. The cool crystal was a grounding weight in her hand. She took a slow sip, then set the glass down.

She turned her head, looking directly at the head of the table. Her expression was calm, her voice clear and steady.

"I'm sure Mr. McMahon and Miss Lawrence's wedding will be the event of the season," she said.

The silence was instantaneous. The clinking of silverware stopped. The murmur of conversation died. Every head at the table swiveled to look at her.

Mr. McMahon. Not Kain. Not even Cousin Kain. The formal address was a slap in the face, a public declaration of distance.

Baylee's lips curved into a triumphant smile. She thought Adelia was conceding, accepting her place as the poor, cast-off widow.

But Kain's face hardened. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. He heard the rejection in her words, the deliberate severing of a tie.

He set down his silver fork. The metal hit the porcelain plate with a sharp, ringing clatter that cut through the silence.

"Adelia," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "What did you just call me?"

Adelia met his glare without blinking. "Mr. McMahon. It's the proper address."

A dangerous light flickered in Kain's eyes. He pushed his chair back and stood up. He was a tall man, and in the dim light of the tent, his shadow stretched long and menacing across the table.

He walked the length of the table, his footsteps silent on the stone floor. He stopped directly behind Adelia's chair. He placed his hands on the back of it, his long fingers curling over the wood, caging her in.

To the other guests, it looked like a gesture of familial support, a patriarch standing behind a wayward relative. But to Adelia, it felt like a predator trapping its prey.

He leaned down. His lips brushed against the crown of her head, and his voice was a low, venomous whisper meant only for her ears.

"Take it back," he breathed. "Or you will regret it."

Adelia's skin prickled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the cedar and vetiver that haunted her nightmares.

She bit her lower lip, hard enough to taste blood. She wanted to take it back. She wanted to apologize and end this nightmare. But a small, stubborn part of her refused to be cowed.

She said nothing.

Kain straightened up. His face was like thunder, a dark cloud that promised violence. He looked around the table, his gaze sweeping over the terrified guests.

"Dinner is over," he announced, his voice clipped. "The staff will show you to your rooms."

He didn't look at Baylee. He didn't say goodnight. He simply turned on his heel and strode out of the tent, heading for the house.

Adelia let out a shaky breath. The storm was coming. She had to get to her room and lock the door. Maybe if she barricaded herself in, she could survive the night.

She hurried up the stairs to the guest wing. But as she rounded the corner, she saw them. Two of Kain's personal security guards, standing on either side of her bedroom door.

They didn't say a word. One of them simply pointed down the hall, toward the study.

The message was clear. He was waiting.