“It was a distraction. A very pleasant one. But it’s done.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes were too bright. He looked from my face to the envelope. “Is that money?” he asked, in a tone that dared me to say yes.
I never backed down from a challenge. “Yes.”
He scoffed. “So that’s it. You give me some money. A transaction completed.”
“Think of it as a severance package. A generous one.” I adjusted the cuff of my sleeve, my hands trembling slightly where he couldn’t see. “Use it. Start something. Forget this.”
“Forget this?” He took a step back like I’d hit him, his breath leaving him in a slow, controlled exhale.
I sidestepped him and walked toward the door. My hand was on the cold black knob when he called my name.
“Elara.”
I paused but didn’t turn. His voice was barely a whisper, all its earlier force spent, leaving only a bleak honesty.
“You don’t love him. And you won’t let yourself love me. Earlier you said you’re surviving. What are you surviving for?”
The question hung in the air, mixing with the smell of sex, my perfume, and his cologne.
“I survive for myself,” I said, without looking back. “Goodbye, Julian.”
I turned the knob, but before I could step out, the door slammed shut. Julian had moved with a terrifying, liquid speed, his palm flat against the wood above my head. He spun me around, his body crashing into mine, pinning me against the wall. He was losing it, his control slipping through his fingers like sand.
He didn’t squeeze my throat; he simply pressed the back of his hand against it, holding me there. He was naked, our fluids drying on his skin, his body caging mine. The anger was gone, replaced by something darker. Tears welled in his eyes, but they didn’t fall.
“He’ll never love you like I do,” he whispered, the words hot and ragged against my lips. He was shaking, a fine tremor running through his muscles. “He’ll never know how to touch you. I see how cold and detached you are, and I worship you for it, because I’ll take everything that comes with you. He’ll just resent you. He’ll put you on a shelf, Elara. And you’ll let him. You’ll freeze, perfectly, forever. Why be that pathetic when you don’t have to?”
I wanted to explain that the way Alastair felt about me meant nothing, but I tucked my lips, making my face a mask of stone even as my heart hammered against my ribs. I wanted to reach up, to smooth the hair from his forehead, to tell him I didn't want to go.
Instead, I just stared through him. His thumb stroked the frantic pulse under my jaw. A tear finally escaped, tracing a path through the stubble on his cheek.
“This isn’t over. It’s not over until I say it’s over. You don’t get to write the ending by yourself.”
The intensity in his eyes should have chilled me. Instead, it ignited a perverse spark. I leaned in, closing the minuscule distance, and kissed him, sliding my tongue into his mouth. I felt him shudder, his hand faltering on my throat.
I pushed him away, hard. “Goodbye, Julian.”
I turned and walked out. My steps were even, my spine straight. His voice followed me.
“ELARA!”
I didn’t look back. I got on the elevator, closed my eyes, and forced myself to get lost in the hum of steel. The lobby was empty. As I stepped out into the damp morning, a flutter caught the edge of my vision. I looked up.
From his window, high above, a storm of paper was falling. The envelope, torn to pieces, was visible first. Then came the hundred-dollar bills—ten thousand dollars' worth, swirling down onto the gray street, catching on wet lampposts and the hoods of parked cars.
Julian’s voice carried crystal clear. “THIS ISN’T FUCKING OVER!”
Chapter 2
Elara
By the time Alastair’s flight landed, I had washed Julian off my skin—scrubbed him away until I could shove him far enough into the back of my mind that I felt nothing.
I called a car service.
When I stepped out of the chauffeured black SUV at the airport, I pulled my blouse tighter, smoothed my skirt, and adjusted the gold clasp of my purse—transforming into the wife his parents had curated. The wife they expected.
