After I Proposed Breaking Off The Engagement, Don Regretted It Chapter 03
Silas walked in with Ivy trailing behind him, looking shy.
He glanced at me, half-smiling. “Why didn’t anyone tell me the model was switched?”
The photographer didn’t know anything about the mafia. To him, this was just a normal job. He was the first to explain. “Mr. Ferrante, it’s just that Miss Sullivan was running way too late.”
“I didn’t mean to be late.” Ivy glanced at Silas, her face turning bright red. “It’s just that last night—”
The photographer scratched his head, missing the subtext completely.
“We needed the promo photos and video today, so we had to start shooting.”
“The key thing is, Marlowe is a perfect fit. Take a look…”
Silas’s gaze landed on the computer screen. His expression gave nothing away. “Oh? Perfect fit for what, exactly?”
The photographer kept going. “Great body, great face, great skin, great presence. Perfect fit for everything.”
Silas lifted his eyelids and smiled, slow and deliberate.
“This jewelry line targets young women between twenty and twenty-four.”
“An old woman pushing thirty, that’s your idea of a perfect fit?”
The entire studio went dead silent. The atmosphere turned to ice.
Silas could humiliate me just to please his mistress. But I couldn’t afford rumors that hurt the company’s image. After all, I still held shares.
I opened my mouth, numb and calm.
“Get Miss Sullivan into makeup. Let her be the model.”
I headed to the changing room to take off the dress. I just wanted to get out of that damn place.
But the zipper got stuck. When someone pushed the door open, I assumed it was the stylist.
“Come in. Help me with the zipper.”
The curtain didn’t move. No one came in. I was about to wonder what was taking so long when Ivy’s soft, sweet voice drifted through.
“Donna, no rush taking that off. Don Ferrante already had them bring me another piece.”
“After all, I don’t like using things that belong to someone else. Feels dirty.”
That’s when I finally got my zipper down. I laughed coldly as I pulled my own clothes back on. “Oh? Then Miss Sullivan doesn’t feel dirty using a man who’s been passed around by God knows how many women?”
Swish. The curtain yanked open.
Ivy’s movements had some anger behind them.
She pulled her collar open. Her chest was covered in thick purple bruises. Now that Silas wasn’t around, she dropped the innocent act and smirked at me.
“Marlowe, you don’t have to be so defensive.”
“Look at this. Don Ferrante can’t get enough of me. An old woman like you must be dying of envy.”
I smiled at her, then pulled out my phone and took a picture.
“Thanks for the evidence of Silas cheating, Miss Sullivan.”
“Should I send this to all our friends so everyone can enjoy it?”
She hadn’t expected that. She shrieked, scrambling to wrap herself in a blanket.
Just then someone called out from outside the room.
“Donna! Don Ferrante is waiting for you outside!”
“He said — ‘Mind the image.'”
I laughed coldly and walked out on my high heels.
…
After leaving the company, I got into Silas’s Maybach.
Silas was looking at his phone. On the screen was the promo photo they’d just taken of me.
Strange man. He’d ordered the photographer to delete everything, but saved a copy for himself.
I frowned hard, reaching for my cigarette pack. Instead, I pulled out a lollipop.
Caius said I was in bad shape and needed to quit smoking. He stuffed candy in my pockets every day.
I popped the lollipop in my mouth. Sweetness spread over my tongue, smoothing out my irritation.
I really didn’t want to keep playing Silas’s games. I just wanted the annulment done. So I said, “That document. Did you read it?”
Silas didn’t answer. He was still looking at the photos — even zooming in on details. Was he mocking me?
Then he said, “Since when are you quitting cigarettes?”
I didn’t respond. I just said, coldly, “That’s the annulment agreement. Sign it.”
Finally, his hand stopped scrolling through the photos. He looked up at me, still wearing that gentle, charming smile. “Ivy’s just a mistress. You’re so mad you want to call off the engagement?”
I frowned. “It doesn’t matter how many mistresses you find. I want the engagement annulled. Now.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Why?”
I told him the truth. “My new boyfriend wants to marry me.”
“My princess.” Silas chuckled softly. “Your acting has gotten a lot better.”
In the past, his arrogance would’ve made me furious with shame.
But now that I’d let it go, I felt nothing.
My phone kept buzzing in my pocket. It had to be Caius texting.
Knowing I was alone with Silas — he’d be jealous again.
So I added, “If there’s a problem with the agreement, contact my lawyer,” and started to push the door open. But the doors were locked.
I frowned and turned back. Silas had already reached out, trapping me between his body and the seat.
He leaned in close. So close that the woody scent of him surrounded me, domineering and inescapable.
My temples pulsed. I was done. “Silas. What the hell are you doing?”
A cool touch circled my wrist.
I looked down. A diamond bracelet covered in gems.
A royal antique. I’d seen it at an auction. Starting bid, eight figures. An anonymous collector had won it.
“Those cheap five-figure junk from the studio doesn’t deserve to grace your wrist.”
“Mm. This one’s barely acceptable.”
I froze. After a moment, I met Silas’s eyes.
His blue eyes — inherited from his Italian mother — were deep as the ocean. His voice was as rich as a cello. He kissed my forehead, gently, and said:
“Marlowe. Happy birthday.”