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“She’s out on the patio, getting some air. Why are the two of you grinning like you’ve lost your damn minds?”
“We’re in love!” Leila exclaimed.
“And we’re blood-bonded,” Marcel added.
“What?” Before Jehan could choke out his astonished response, Seraphina did it first. She stood behind him now in a long skirt and curve-hugging tank, a look of utter shock on her face. She crossed her arms. “What do you mean you’re in love? How did that happen? And blood-bonded so soon? For God’s sake, you only just met each other.”
Jehan glanced at her, tempted to point out that they’d only just met too and he was already ruined for anyone else. But her pained expression kept him silent.
Marcel and Leila’s excitement left no time for him to reply either. The pair stepped inside, practically vibrating with their news.
“We’ve been spending a lot of time together the past several days,” Leila gushed.
Marcel wagged his brows at her. “And a couple of nights.”
“Marcel!” She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were flooded with bright color. “At first, we thought we only had the handfast in common. We both wanted it to be a success, of course. And honestly, we thought the two of you would make an adorable couple.”
Jehan noted a cooler shift in Seraphina’s posture as her sister mentioned the handfast. “How can you be sure you’re not making a terrible mistake, Leila? You don’t know anything about him. No offense, Marcel. You do seem like a good, decent male.”
Unlike his brother? Jehan wondered.
Leila stared up at Marcel, warmth beaming from her eyes. “He makes me feel alive, Sera. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel special and beautiful, like I’m the only woman he sees.”
Marcel cupped her face in a tender caress. “Because you are.”
They kissed, leaving Jehan in awkward silence next to Seraphina. He glanced at her, but she stared rigidly ahead, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Congratulations,” she murmured as the jubilant couple finally stopped devouring each other’s faces. “I’m happy for you both. I’m sure our families will be happy to hear this news too.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Marcel said. “The handfast—”
Leila nodded. “Now that Marcel and I are blood-bonded, there’s no need to continue with the handfast. It’s over as of right now.”
Marcel must have read Jehan’s grim expression. He cleared his throat. “That is, unless you want to continue...?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Seraphina replied quickly. “Neither one of us wants that. We’re both very eager to be done with this obligation and get back to our real lives. Isn’t that right, Jehan?”
He scowled, uncertain how to answer. It seemed obvious that continuing the handfast with him wasn’t what she wanted. He was impatient to get on with his life outside the villa too, but only if she would be part of it.
She stared at him as he struggled with the urge to tell her how he felt and risk her rejection in front of both their oblivious, elated siblings.
“Sera,” he murmured.
But she was already pivoting away from him. “Now that this farce is over, I’ll go collect my things.”
When she sailed off in a hurry, both Marcel and Leila gaped at him.
“What the hell did you do to her, brother?”
Jehan shook his head. “I don’t know.” And then, the truth settled over him. Something about what she said. Something about how she said it...
She’d heard him today.
His conversation with Lazaro Archer back in Rome.
He cursed under his breath. Then he started to chuckle.
Marcel frowned at him. “She’s pissed as hell at you about something and you’re laughing?”
