I glanced at him. He was watching the city with an expression I couldn't quite read. Not the cold businessman from lunch, but something softer. Almost wistful.
"Tell me about Vanessa," I said abruptly. "Your relationship with her."
He turned to look at me, and the moment shattered. The businessman was back. "What do you want to know?"
"Does she hate me because of what happened with my ex-fiancé? Or did she hate me before that?"
Adrian was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he sighed. "Vanessa doesn't hate you. She envies you."
"That's ridiculous. She's a Blackwood. She has everything."
"She has money and a name. You have something she's always wanted and can never have."
"What?"
"Our father's respect." He looked back out the window. "Marcus Blackwood doesn't believe women should run companies. Vanessa has an MBA from Stanford, a brilliant mind for strategy, but he won't let her anywhere near the business. She's relegated to charity work and social functions. It eats at her."
"So she destroyed my life because she's jealous of my career?"
"I think she destroyed your relationship because watching you succeed where she couldn't was unbearable. Sleeping with your fiancé was cruel, but it was also strategic. She knew it would break you, force you out of the spotlight for a while. Give her breathing room."
The casual way he analyzed his sister's betrayal chilled me. "You're very analytical about this."
"I'm analytical about everything. It's how I survive." He met my eyes. "Don't expect emotional outbursts or dramatic confrontations from me, Aria. I deal in facts and logic. It's safer that way."
"Safer than what?"
"Than caring too much." His voice went flat. "Emotion is a liability in business and in life. The moment you let yourself feel too deeply, someone will use it against you."
I thought about the articles I'd read last night. The ex-girlfriends who'd called him emotionally unavailable. They hadn't been wrong.
"Is that why you've never been in love?" I asked quietly.
His jaw tightened. "I've never been in love because I choose not to be. Love makes people irrational, vulnerable. Look at your parents your mother is dying, and your father is so desperate to save her that he sold his daughter to his business rival. Love did that."
"Love also made him willing to sacrifice everything for her. That's not weakness. That's strength."
"It's foolishness. If he'd been rational, he would have declared bankruptcy, liquidated assets, and started over. Instead, he's binding you to a man you hate to pay for treatment that might not even work."
The words stung because they were partially true. "You're a bastard."
"Yes." He didn't even flinch. "But I'm an honest bastard. I won't lie to you, Aria. Not about this, not about anything. When you marry me, you'll know exactly what you're getting."
"A cold, calculating businessman who thinks love is a liability."
"And you're getting financial security, your mother's medical care, and a partner who will never lie to you or betray you. I'd say that's a fair trade."
I wanted to argue, but couldn't. He was right. Adrian might be emotionally distant, but at least he was honest about it. My ex-fiancé had whispered words of love while sleeping with my best friend.
Maybe honesty was better than false affection.
The Connecticut countryside spread out below us, all rolling hills and autumn colors. We were leaving the city behind, heading toward something I wasn't prepared for.
"Tell me about your parents," I said, changing the subject. "What should I expect?"
Adrian's expression turned guarded. "My father will test you. He'll make comments about women in business, about your family's failure, about your scandal with Vanessa and your ex. He wants to see if you'll break."
"I won't."
"I know. That's why I chose you." He paused. "My mother is more subtle. She'll smile and be gracious while cataloging every flaw. Your dress, your posture, your word choices. She's preparing for the wedding, and she'll want to remake you into the perfect Blackwood wife."
"I'm not interested in being remade."
"Good. I don't want a perfect society wife. I want a partner with a spine." He leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Here's what you need to know about surviving tonight: my family will try to break you because they break everything. Don't let them. Match my father's barbs with steel. Be gracious but firm with my mother. And Vanessa" He stopped.
"What about Vanessa?"
"Don't engage. If she tries to provoke you, which she will, don't give her the satisfaction. You've already won you're marrying into the family, becoming a Blackwood. That's a victory she can never achieve."
The helicopter began its descent. Below us, a massive estate sprawled across manicured grounds. The main house was a Georgian mansion, all white columns and symmetry. Tennis courts, a pool, gardens that probably required a full-time staff.
This was going to be my family. This cold, beautiful fortress.
We landed on a private helipad near the house. Adrian was out first, extending his hand to help me down. This time, I took it without protest. If we were going to convince his family this marriage was real, we needed to start acting like a couple.
His fingers threaded through mine, solid and warm. "Ready?"
"No."
"Good. Confidence is overrated. Survival instinct is better." He squeezed my hand once. "Remember you're not alone in this. Whatever happens, we face it together."
Then we walked toward the mansion, and I tried not to feel like I was walking into a beautiful trap.
A butler met us at the door an actual butler, like something out of a period drama. He was elderly, impeccably dressed, and regarded me with the kind of neutral politeness that felt like judgment.
"Mr. Blackwood, welcome home. Your parents are in the drawing room. Ms. Chen, may I take your coat?"
I hadn't brought a coat. It was October, but I'd been too rattled to think about the weather.
"She's fine, William," Adrian said smoothly. "We won't be long."
He led me through a foyer that belonged in a museum. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, artwork that was probably worth more than my parents' house. Everything was perfect, cold, untouchable.
Like the family who lived here.
Voices drifted from an open doorway ahead. A woman's laugh, light and practiced. A man's deeper tones, authoritative even in casual conversation.
Adrian's hand tightened on mine. "Last chance to run."
"You'd never catch me in those shoes," I murmured, and was rewarded with a brief flash of his almost-smile.
Then we stepped into the drawing room, and I came face to face with the Blackwood family.
Marcus Blackwood stood by the fireplace, a crystal tumbler in his hand. He was tall like Adrian, but broader, with silver hair and the kind of presence that commanded attention. His eyes the same gray as his son's fixed on me with predatory interest.
"So this is the Chen girl." Not a question. A statement. He looked me up and down like I was livestock at auction. "Prettier than her photos. Good bone structure. Could stand to smile more."
Beside me, Adrian stiffened. "Father"
"It's fine," I said sweetly, stepping forward and extending my hand. "Mr. Blackwood, it's a pleasure. And you're right, I should smile more. I'll work on that right after you work on not evaluating women like show horses."