Chapter 66: I Hate Tea
Namira didn’t hesitate to gesture to the maid to serve them, which the maid instantly did, even as Dora shifted slightly in her seat, uncomfortable under Namira’s scrutiny.
It would have been better if Dante hadn’t gone out of his way to warn her not to drink anything. There was no way she would go against what he said—especially for a woman she didn’t like.
"This tea is my favorite!" Namira pointed out, lifting her own cup and taking a deliberate sip. She subtly urged Dora to do the same as the maid bowed politely and turned to leave, her movements almost too precise.
Dora, on the other hand, merely shook her head gently, crossing her legs on the couch she sat on. "I just recovered. Sugar in any form isn’t good for me!" she said, but her words were barely out before Namira responded, seemingly in the same breath.
"There’s no sugar in the tea!" Namira said, her expression sharp and her eyes locking onto Dora’s with a knowing, almost accusatory look. There was a trace of anger she didn’t bother to hide.
"Tell me you don’t think I would actually poison you in Elder Bellini’s home. He would have the head of the maid. No one would dare to do such a thing!" she added, her voice steady but laced with annoyance. Dora only nodded, making no move to reach for the cup.
"I hate tea!" Dora said frankly. Despite no longer being panicked over the attack that had nearly killed her, she remained hyper-aware, suspicious of every little thing.
Namira’s blank, neutral expression no longer seemed neutral at all, but Dora couldn’t bring herself to care. She shifted to the left side of the sofa, preparing to turn her attention back to the TV if Namira didn’t continue speaking.
Yet, just as that thought crossed her mind, Namira’s voice came again, slow and deliberate, weighted with disappointment.
"You might be Dante’s wife, but you are also married into our family. It pains me that you would think I would do anything to you!" she said. Dora gently shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on Namira.
"I never said that!" she replied firmly, her gaze flicking back to the movie she had been watching, relieved as Namira rose to her feet, indicating she intended to leave.
Of course, Namira had one final remark.
"Just keep in mind what I said. Getting pregnant right now isn’t advantageous for you!" she said, her tone carrying a warning that left no room for misunderstanding, before she turned and walked out through the main doors.
Dora glanced at the cups and the tea kettle on the trolley but made no move to touch them, muttering quietly under her breath.
’Why should a child of mine be any of your concern?’ she wondered, fully aware that having a child as soon as possible was her best path forward. Even better, she would have more than enough money to move far away, to a country where Tiberio would never find her—even if he tried.
With Namira gone, Dora struggled to concentrate on the movie still playing on the TV, but her mind kept wandering, each thought dragging her further from the screen. Her hand unconsciously slid down to her stomach as she considered the possibility of already being pregnant, and what Namira might do if she discovered it.
’Nine months is a long time!’ she thought, exhaling a long, tense sigh, when the door to the room opened to reveal Dante, followed by Elder Bellini, gold inlaid cane in his hands.
His footsteps were slow but steady, even as he walked in front of Dante, who walked behind him. The colour of their hair was similar in a way that made it clear that they were related.
Elder Bellini’s expression was gentle, reassuring, but Dante’s gaze was cold and neutral as usual, though it visibly softened the instant he saw her. Dora, however, was more than aware that it was a performance.
"You can stay, and I’ll pick you up in the evening," he said, moving closer to hug her. Dora lightly nodded, hugging him just as tightly, even pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
Dante didn’t appear stiff as he hugged her in return, acting as if it were a routine gesture, completely natural.
After saying their goodbyes, Dante left, leaving Elder Bellini with Dora. She felt comfortable in his presence, and hurried to his side, speaking freely as he replied in a friendly, approachable manner.
It wasn’t long before they bonded over the various games scattered around the house. Elder Bellini even suggested they go out to play golf and have a bite to eat—Dora’s eyes lit up with delight, and she agreed instantly, barely needing him to finish his offer.
The day continued to improve. Dora realized that although Elder Bellini usually maintained a calm, neutral expression, his tone was anything but detached. His jokes were surprisingly sharp, his laughter infectious, and he seemed to find humor even in the smallest of things.
Though she had never played golf before, by evening she had gained a clearer understanding of the game’s mechanics. Each swing, each putt, left her more confident and engaged.
After their game, Elder Bellini offered to take her to a restaurant he knew she would enjoy. When they arrived, Dora marveled at the sight.
It was luxurious, clearly designed for high-ranking guests, with top-tier service that treated them like nobility the moment they entered. The food was vibrant and exquisite. Dora, unfamiliar with many of the names, still couldn’t resist tasting each dish, savoring the flavor as it touched her tongue.
Excitement bubbled within her, and the tension left by the recent attack began to ease with each bite. Then Elder Bellini spoke, his tone light yet the words deliberate, carrying an underlying weight.
"How did you and Dante meet? I was surprised when he told me that he found someone he would like to marry," he asked, his curiosity genuine, yet pointed.
"It was a mistake, actually," Dora responded. "I walked into his room by mistake after having my shirt drenched and wanting to change it. I saw him by the window reading a book, and the rest was history!"
She forced herself to avoid recalling the more unfortunate events that had followed, though a flicker of distaste crept across her face. Elder Bellini noticed, his gaze lingering on her rather than the meal in front of him, patient and focused, yet not pressing.
