The car ride that night left a filthy brand, searing every passing minute that followed. When the summons to the Hamptons arrived-or rather, the command-Adelia knew she wasn't even granted the right to hide away and lick her wounds. The Hamptons weekend arrived with a deceptive tranquility. The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and blooming hydrangeas, and the McMahon estate was buzzing with activity. White tents dotted the manicured lawn, and waiters in crisp uniforms wove through the crowd with silver trays.

Adelia stepped out of the black town car, her knees unsteady. The driver had been insistent-Kain's orders-and she hadn't had the strength to argue. She wore a simple gray dress, the neckline high, the hemline long. She wanted to disappear.

The butler led her across the stone patio toward the lawn. As she stepped onto the grass, the conversation seemed to ripple and then still. Heads turned. Eyes followed her.

She kept her gaze down, focusing on the perfectly manicured grass beneath her feet.

Baylee Lawrence stood at the center of a cluster of socialites, her arm looped through Kain's. She was stunning in a flowing white sundress, her engagement ring catching the afternoon sun like a beacon.

When she saw Adelia, Baylee's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Then it widened, becoming even more brilliant, even more perfect.

"Adelia!" Baylee called out, her voice dripping with synthetic warmth. She detached herself from Kain and glided across the lawn. "Darling, I'm so glad you could make it. You've been hiding away for too long."

Adelia forced her lips into a stiff line. "Thank you for having me."

"It must be so hard for you," Baylee said, reaching out to pat Adelia's arm. Her touch was light, but her eyes were sharp. "Being a widow and all. You really should get out more. It's not healthy to mope."

Adelia's stomach churned. She wanted to slap the perfect smile right off the other woman's face. Instead, she took a slow breath. "I'll keep that in mind."

Kain stood a few feet away, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He watched the exchange with a blank expression, offering no help, no defense. But Adelia could feel his gaze on her, a physical weight that pressed against her skin, hot and demanding.

Dinner was announced, and the guests moved toward the long tables set up under the tents. Adelia found her place card at the far end of the table, as far from the head as possible. She was exiled to the Siberia of the McMahon social hierarchy.

Baylee took her seat at Kain's right hand. She leaned in close, whispering something in his ear, her fingers brushing his shoulder as she poured him more wine.

Adelia picked up her knife and fork. She cut into her steak, the motion mechanical. She didn't taste the food. It was like eating cardboard. Her stomach was in knots, a tight ball of anxiety that made it hard to swallow.

At the head of the table, the family elders began to question Baylee about the wedding plans. Baylee lapped up the attention, detailing the venue, the florist, the guest list. Every few minutes, she would glance down the table at Adelia, a small, satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

A sharp pain lanced through Adelia's abdomen. She dropped her knife and fork, the silverware clattering against the porcelain.

"Excuse me," she murmured, pushing her chair back. She didn't wait for a response. She hurried away from the table, her heels clicking on the stone pathway.

She found the bathroom inside the house and splashed cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror-pale, drawn, exhausted. She looked like a ghost.

She took a deep breath and stepped back into the hallway. She collided with a solid chest.

"Whoa, there," a male voice said. It was one of the distant McMahon cousins, a man with a leer that made her skin crawl. "Running away, little widow? Jealous of the new queen bee?"

Adelia stepped back, her eyes flashing. "Excuse me."

She tried to walk around him, but he shifted his weight, blocking her path. "Come on, don't be like that. I could show you a good time. Take your mind off things."

"Back off," she said, her voice cold. She pushed past him, her shoulder knocking his as she strode down the hall.

She was halfway to the door when a hand shot out, grabbing her arm. She was yanked sideways, pulled through a doorway into a dimly lit parlor.

The door slammed shut behind her. Kain stood between her and the exit, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing.

"Were you just flirting with him?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Adelia stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? He cornered me."

Kain closed the distance between them in two strides. He backed her up against the wall, his hand reaching up to grip the back of her neck. His fingers dug into her skin, holding her in place.

"I told you," he said, his face inches from hers, "not to draw attention to yourself."

His eyes were wild, a dark, possessive fire burning in their depths. He looked like a man who had been pushed to the edge.

"Kain-" she started.

"Shut up," he snapped. "You are mine. You don't talk to them. You don't look at them."

From the hallway, Baylee's voice drifted through the closed door. "Kain? Are you in here? The guests are asking for you."

Kain's grip on her neck tightened for a second. Then, just as quickly, he released her. He stepped back, his expression smoothing over, the mask of the civilized heir sliding back into place.

He adjusted his collar, shot her one last warning glare, and opened the door.

"Right here," he said to Baylee, his voice perfectly calm. "Just checking on a draft."

He walked out, leaving Adelia alone in the dark room. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

She was trapped. And the storm was only getting started.

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.