Chapter 2

Later That Evening

(Elliot's POV)

The ballroom was dazzling, glilded ceilings, crystal chandeliers shimmering like stars, and every inch of the room whispered opulence. 

My family had gone all out for the occasion. Of course they had. Tonight was about me. Or rather, us, me and Clara.

She clung to my arm, radiant in a scarlet gown that matched the red embroidery on my black tux. Picture-perfect. That is what people would call us. I smiled as we walked through the crowd, exchanging greetings, shaking hands, laughing on cue. 

The buzz in the air was deafening, most of it centered on our engagement. Every time someone offered congratulations, I nodded, thanked them, and felt something inside me twist tighter.

I played the part. I always do.

Across the ballroom, I noticed Jonah slip in, his posture tense, his eyes scanning until they found me. Our eyes met for a second, and I immediately looked away.

He made his way to the bar. Of course he did. I knew that look, he needed something to calm the storm I had created.

As I laughed at a joke Clara whispered into my ear, I could not help but glance in his direction. He looked so… out of place. And yet, he was the only thing that felt real.

I walked toward the bar, not for any big reason particularly, just to feel his presence. 

Then a group of drunken idiots staggered up beside him.

“Bartender!” one of them bellowed. “We need something strong, none of that fruity ballroom crap.”

The bartender, clearly used to this, obliged them silently. They clinked glasses and grinned.

“Damn, the Sinclairs sure know how to throw a party,” one of them said. 

“Their boy has got it all, money, fame, and now the girl every man here would sell his soul for.”

I knew Jonah could hear every word.

“They look so in love,” another added. “Elliot has been all over her all night.”

A glass slammed against the counter, silencing them. Jonah. My chest tightened as I watched him shove away from the bar, fury in his step.

He re-entered the ballroom just as my father took the mic. I followed closely behind him and went back to Clara. 

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he began, his deep voice booming through the speakers. “It brings me great joy to celebrate our son. And I am even more thrilled to share that in two months, we will be hosting an even bigger event, his wedding to the lovely Clara!”

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers.

I forced a smile, stood up with Clara, and kissed her as the cameras flashed. It was what was expected. But when I pulled back, I saw Jonah, storming toward the stage, his eyes red and wild.

Before he could get close, the guards stepped in.

“I need to speak to Elliot. Now!” he yelled.

“You are not on the VIP list,” one of them barked.

“I do not care about your stupid list! Let me through!”

“Sir, if you don’t back off, we would have to use force,” another warned.

Jonah shoved one of them. “Hit me if you want, but I’m not leaving without talking to him!”

My father, noticing the commotion, stepped in. “What is going on here?”

“He insists on speaking to your son, sir,” the guard replied.

“Well, what do you want with Elliot?” Dad asked, skeptical.

Jonah opened his mouth to respond, but I didn’t let him.

“I’ve got this, Dad,” I said, quickly moving in and grabbing Jonah by the arm, dragging him into the nearest dark hallway.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“A wedding?!” he laughed bitterly. “A fucking wedding, Elliot?!”

“I didn’t know he was going to announce it,” I muttered. “He got excited. It was not part of the plan.”

“What happened to having everything under control? What happened to protecting us?”

“Keep your voice down,” I warned, glancing around.

“Oh, of course,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear the dirty little secret you’ve been hiding.”

“Jonah…”

“No. Don’t Jonah me. I wasn’t even supposed to find out this way. You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

“That is not true…”

“I am done with this. I am done hiding. It’s either me or Clara. Call off the wedding. Make a choice.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at him, speechless.

Then I did the only thing I knew how to do, I pulled him closer to me and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate and wild and aching. I needed him to feel how much I still wanted him, needed him.

His fingers gripped my collar, pulling me closer, and for a moment, I forgot everything. The world, the crowd, the cameras. It was just us. It always had been.

When we finally broke apart, gasping, I whispered against his lips, “I love you. I still want you. You are mine.”

“Then prove it,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

I looked at him, memorizing every inch of his face before I kissed him again. He trailed down my neck, his lips leaving fire in their wake.

“Elliot! Elliot!” a voice called.

Clara.

Shit.

I broke away, panic surging. “You have to go. Now.”

Jonah stared at me, eyes glistening, then turned and ran, because he knew, just like I did, that I wouldn’t choose him. Not now. Not when everything was on the line.

I punched the wall, furious with myself. Ran my fingers through my hair. My eyes dropped, and I laughed bitterly.

Perfect. I was hard.

“Elliot! Elliot!”

I wiped my face, straightened my jacket, and forced on a smile. “Clara, baby, I am right here.”

She rounded the corner. “What are you doing in such a dark hallway?”