Chapter Three

Elara's pov

After Victoria left, I remained in the morning room for a while. The sun moved, creating long, bony shadows of the window frames on the floor, and I remained there until the tea became sludge.

‘Serena is back.’

The name was familiar to me long before I ever met the person. I made the mistake of Googling him in an effort to close the distance between us during the first few months of our marriage. I had hundreds of images of them. Serena Vale, who had a grin that made her seem to own the air she inhaled and blonde hair. Adrian appeared differently in those images. His jaw was looser. He resembled a man who was still living, not a working machine.

I got up, my legs feeling heavy. If I didn't take action, the walls would have eventually crushed me.

The little conservatory with glass walls in the back of the house is where I spent the afternoon. The only location where things were permitted to grow without a plan. As I was repotting a dying orchid with my hands covered with dark, wet soil, the door creaked open.

I anticipated a maid. I didn't anticipate Adrian.

He returned home at 5:30 PM. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing forearms lined with muscle and a faint sprinkling of black hair. He had taken off his jacket. Among the flowers, he appeared out of place, too harsh and too industrial.

"My mother was here," he said. It wasn't a question.

"She was." I didn't look up from the orchid. I carefully tucked the soil around its fragile roots. "She reminded me of my 'purpose' here."

Adrian walked closer, his presence pulling the oxygen out of the small room. "She has a way of being blunt. It’s a trait I’ve inherited, I’m told."

"Is that what you call it? Bluntness?" I finally looked up. "She told me Serena is back."

Adrian’s expression didn't flicker. Not a twitch of the eye. "London is a small circle for people in our position. It was inevitable."

"Did you love her?" The question slipped out before I could catch it. It was a forbidden word in this house.

Adrian stepped toward me, reaching out to brush a smudge of dirt from my cheek. His touch was lingering, his fingers warm against my skin. "I loved the way she understood the world. She didn't ask for things that didn't exist, Elara."

"Like love? Like a husband who comes home for dinner?"

His hand moved from my cheek to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in the loose strands of my hair. He pulled me slightly closer, forcing me to tilt my head back.

"I am here now," he whispered. His voice was a low hum, the kind that vibrated in my chest. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

I wanted to push him away. I wanted to scream that being 'here' physically wasn't enough. But my body was a traitor. After a year of starvation, the smallest crumb of his attention felt like a feast. My breath hitched, and my heart began that frantic, uneven thud against my ribs.

"I don't want to be a duty, Adrian," I breathed.

"Then stop acting like one," he murmured.

He leaned down, his mouth catching mine in a kiss that was anything but polite. It was hungry and possessive, tasting of mint and the dark, expensive coffee he drank all day. It was the only time he was ever honest with me when he stopped talking and let his body take over.

The clay pots fell to the floor with a clatter as he hoisted me up onto the potting table, my silk skirt bunching up around my thighs. The contrast was striking the dirt on my hands, the cold glass of the conservatory, and the intense heat of his skin.

He didn't express regret for the previous evening. He made no mention of how happy he was to see me. With a desperate, silent intensity, he simply moved against me, making me feel for a few fleeting moments that I was the only thing in his universe.

I allowed myself to believe the falsehood in the heat of the moment, with my head back and my fingers buried in the muscles of his shoulders. I allowed myself to believe that I could get to the soul behind the CEO if I could just hold him firmly enough.

After he eventually pulled away, his breathing ragged, he leaned his forehead against mine. His eyes were gloomy and filled with an unusual, intense emotion that I was unable to describe.

"Adrian..." I whispered, reaching for his face.

The moment he heard his name, the shutter clicked back into place. He straightened his shirt, his expression smoothing out into that familiar, impenetrable mask. He looked down at the spilled dirt and the broken orchid on the floor.

"Clean yourself up," he said, his voice back to its cool, measured clip. "We have dinner tonight at the Vales'. My mother insists we show a united front."

The world turned cold again. The Vales. Serena’s family.

"You're only here because of the dinner," I said, my voice trembling as I smoothed my skirt. "That... whatever that just was... that was just making sure I looked 'glowing' for the cameras, wasn't it?"

Adrian stopped at the door. He didn't turn around. "We have a role to play, Elara. The sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be."

The conservatory's stillness returned after he left, louder than before. I glanced at my hands. They were caked in dirt. I examined the orchid. I made an effort to rescue it, but in the midst of our fight, Adrian's bulky boot had crushed the stem.

It was no more.

The fading light made me realize that in this home, even the intimacy was simply another form of negotiation. He wanted an heir, not a wife. To obtain his goals, he was prepared to utilize every aspect of me, including my heart, my body, and my quiet.

While gazing at the black water swirling down the drain, I went to the sink and started rinsing the dirt off my hands. I needed to get through this evening. I had to act as if I wasn't bleeding inside while standing beside Serena Vale and him.

Since that was my intention.