Chapter 18.1

The stomacher had been torn so savagely that there was no way she could mend it on her own. In a hurry, Livi took a shawl from the wardrobe, draped it around her shoulders, and straightened her appearance.

With the help of the maids, she made her way halfway down the stairs, where she was met by a butler who escorted her to the hall where dinner had been prepared.

Several people were already seated at the dining table. Three to four men, by the looks of it. Judging from their attire, most of them seemed to be knights.

“Come here, my wife.”

Dominic kicked out the empty chair beside him with his leg.

The moment Livi sat down, his brows furrowed. Without a word, he reached out and tore off the jeweled brooch fastening her shawl. The fabric slipped down in a soft sweep, exposing the front of her dress. It wasn’t indecent enough to cause a scene, but it was far from suitable for a formal dinner.

Livi calmly shifted her gaze to the shawl on the floor. It was close enough that she could pick it up with just a stretch of her hand.

“You’re not thinking of picking it up, are you?”

Her hand froze midair. Dominic pressed her wrist down with deliberate weight.

“Don’t bother trying to save face. It’s irritating.”

“…”

“Besides, do you really have any dignity left to save in front of my knights? Whatever you do now, you’ll only look pathetic.”

Livi clenched her fist, then slowly lowered it onto her lap. Her bare skin now fully revealed the marks Dominic had left on her.

They were unmistakable signs of foreplay. Too blatant to cover up or mistake for something else.

The hall fell into an instant hush. The knights’ knives stopped mid-slice, and the servants averted their eyes in forced composure. The embarrassment etched across their faces burned worse than the shame of that wretched first night at the inn.

“Is that…?”

“Those marks, aren’t they… from His Grace…?”

The knights murmured among themselves, but none dared to ask Dominic outright. Their shocked glances darted from one to another, while Livi hung her head in shame, unable to move.

She had never expected a warm welcome. She had steeled herself for hostility, for humiliation, and had sworn to face it with dignity. Yet the moment the insults poured down on her like cold rain, all her resolve dissolved into nothing.

As Livi bit her lip tightly, she heard a sigh. Jeff, who was sitting next to Dominic, shook his head with a look of disapproval.

“Your Grace… that’s enough.”

“What did I do?”

“You’re seriously asking that?”

Jeff nodded toward Livi’s neck and collarbone.

“What on earth are those? They’re disgraceful.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter.”

“Even so, how could I not have one? This is your precious wife we’re talking about. The one you cherish so much that you’d cast out a knight just to please her… try showing a little gentleness, Your Grace. I spent years feeding that bastard Brian through training. He ate twice as much as anyone else, and I still put up with it. The least you could’ve done was make him earn his keep before tossing him out.”

“So, you’ve got a problem?”

Dominic, who had just reached for his fork, spoke in a low voice.

The moment he lifted a brow, Jeff’s grumbling expression vanished, replaced by an easy grin. After five years as vice commander, he had mastered the art of knowing when to change his tune.

“Of course not! I’m only saying someone else might have complaints.”

“Stop sucking up and eat your damn food.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dominic ignored whatever murmurs passed among the knights and began to move his hands again. Livi massaged her freed wrist and glanced at the table.

Only one set of utensils had been laid out where there should have been several. The same went for Dominic and the other knights. Briefly confused, Livi soon remembered that most of Celsion’s knights were former mercenaries. None of them had been taught proper table manners, so laying out multiple sets of cutlery would only have caused confusion.

Picking at a few lentils, Livi forced herself to eat two spoonfuls of soup before setting her utensils down. Hearing the sound of the spoon hitting the table, Dominic looked at her with a skeptical expression.

“You’re not finished already, are you?”

“My stomach isn’t sitting with the food well.”

Dominic eyed the fork resting on the table, then leaned close to whisper in Livi’s ear.

“Breaking our deal is not an option, my dear wife.”

“…”

“Eat more. I wouldn’t want you collapsing from hunger. If I thought you were defying our agreement and ended up snapping someone’s neck over it, that’d be troublesome.”

“I won’t die—”

“And I don’t like them thin. If there’s nothing to grab onto, there’s no fun in the game.”

Grab? Grab onto what?

Puzzled, Livi finally understood what he meant only after catching the brief, deliberate flick of his gaze down her chest. He was the one who spoke, yet somehow, the shame was entirely hers.

“Bring more food. Here, set it in front of my wife.”

Dominic motioned to the servants as he watched Livi tremble. They hurried over, piling food high in front of her. Their hands were careful as they cleared the cold dishes, and the knights kept their eyes firmly on their plates.