The Color of War

Chapter 4

The dress fit perfectly, hugging Elara’s curves as if it had been sewn directly onto her skin.

It was a vibrant, wicked shade of crimson, featuring a daring sweetheart neckline and a slit that ran up her left thigh. She looked entirely unfamiliar to herself. Gone was the understated, pastel-wearing Sterling heiress. Staring back at her in the mirror was a woman molded by Julian Vance’s expensive, ruthless tastes.

She picked up the diamond-encrusted choker from the velvet box. Her fingers trembled as she struggled with the intricate platinum clasp behind her neck.

"Let me."

Elara gasped, dropping her hands as Julian stepped up behind her. She hadn't heard him re-enter the room. In the mirror, their reflection looked like an oil painting of a demon claiming an angel. He was dressed in a razor-sharp charcoal suit, his broad shoulders framing her perfectly.

Julian’s large, warm hands brushed against the sensitive skin of her nape, sending a jolt of electricity straight down to her toes. He took the ends of the necklace and fastened the clasp with practiced ease.

He didn't step back. Instead, his hands slid down to rest heavily on her bare shoulders.

"Red suits you," Julian murmured, his gaze locking onto hers in the mirror. His icy blue eyes darkened as they swept over her reflection. "It’s the color of war."

Elara swallowed, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his chest against her back. "Is that what we are doing today? Going to war?"

"We’ve already won the war, Elara. Today, we claim the spoils." Julian’s thumb stroked the heavy diamonds resting against her collarbone. "Remember the rules. You smile. You agree. You are the happiest woman in the city. If you look like a hostage, I will make sure you regret it."

"I know how to play my part, Julian," she said quietly, raising her chin. "You don't need to threaten me."

A muscle feathered in his jaw. He dropped his hands abruptly and turned away. "The car is waiting."

The lobby of Vance Empire headquarters was a madhouse.

As soon as Julian’s Maybach pulled up to the curb, a sea of reporters surged forward, restrained only by a barricade of Julian’s massive security guards. Flashbulbs erupted like a strobe light, blinding Elara before she even stepped out of the vehicle.

Julian got out first. He buttoned his suit jacket, the absolute picture of power and dominance. Then, he turned and offered his hand to her.

Elara took a deep breath, plastered a radiant, fake smile onto her face, and placed her hand in his.

Julian pulled her out, immediately wrapping a heavy, possessive arm tightly around her waist. He pulled her flush against his side, so close she could feel the steady beat of his heart.

"Julian! Mr. Vance! Is it true you bought Sterling Industries for pennies on the dollar?" a reporter screamed.

"Mrs. Vance! How does it feel to marry the man who bankrupted your father?" another shouted, shoving a microphone toward her face.

Elara flinched. The question hit her like a physical blow. Her fake smile faltered, her chest tightening with panic. She looked down at the marble steps, suddenly feeling nauseous.

Julian’s grip on her waist tightened to the point of pain. He didn't look at the reporters; he looked down at her. He saw the genuine terror in her eyes, the way her bottom lip trembled.

A sudden, violent surge of protectiveness flared in his chest an instinct so foreign and powerful it shocked him. He was the one who was supposed to punish her. No one else was allowed to make her bleed.

Julian abruptly stopped walking. The crowd quieted, eager for a quote from the notoriously ruthless CEO.

"My wife and I are deeply in love," Julian’s voice boomed over the crowd, smooth, cold, and dripping with a lethal warning. "Sterling Industries is not a conquest; it is a family merger. Any publication that suggests otherwise, or disrespects my wife, will find themselves answering to my legal team by nightfall. Am I understood?"

The silence that followed was absolute.

Julian didn't wait for an answer. He practically carried Elara up the rest of the steps and through the glass doors of the lobby, leaving the media scrambling in their wake.

Once the heavy elevator doors slid shut, sealing them in privacy, Elara sagged against the mahogany wall, letting out a shaky breath.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking up at him. "You didn't have to do that."

Julian’s jaw clenched. He stared at the elevator floor numbers ticking upward, refusing to look at her. He was furious. Furious at the reporters, furious at her for being so fragile, and most of all, furious at himself for stepping in to defend her.

"Don't flatter yourself," he snapped coldly. "It was bad for the company's stock to have my new wife hyperventilating on the front page. Keep your composure, Elara."

The warmth drained out of Elara in an instant, replaced by a familiar, protective numbness. *Of course.* To Julian, she was just a PR asset.

The elevator dinged, opening into the luxurious VIP lounge attached to the press room.

"Julian, darling!"

A sickeningly sweet voice cut through the air. Elara turned to see a stunning blonde woman gliding toward them. She wore a skin-tight white dress, her lips painted a glossy pink. This was Victoria Thorne, the daughter of Julian’s biggest board member. It was no secret in high society that Victoria had been grooming herself to become Mrs. Julian Vance for the past five years.

Victoria threw her arms around Julian’s neck, kissing his cheek lingeringly. Julian didn't push her away, though his expression remained indifferent.

"Victoria," he greeted smoothly.

Victoria finally pulled back, her sharp green eyes landing on Elara. She looked Elara up and down, a cruel, mocking smile playing on her lips.

"And you must be the charity case," Victoria said, her voice dripping with fake pity. "Elara, isn't it? We were all so shocked when Julian announced the wedding. I suppose even a destitute Sterling needs somewhere to sleep when the bank forecloses on their mansion."

Julian frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but Elara beat him to it.

She stepped forward, her posture perfect, her head held high. She might have lost her money, but she had been raised in the snake-pit of high society. She knew exactly how to handle women like Victoria.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Victoria," Elara said, her voice smooth and sickeningly sweet. "And yes, it was a sudden wedding. But when a man is truly desperate to make you his, I suppose he just can't wait." Elara smiled, reaching out to gently brush a speck of lint off Julian’s lapel, playing the part of the doting wife flawlessly. "Isn't that right, husband?"

Julian stared down at Elara, completely taken aback. There was a fiery spark in her hazel eyes he had never seen before. She wasn't cowering. She was fighting back. And God, she looked magnificent doing it.

Victoria’s face flushed an ugly shade of red. "How dare you"

"Victoria," Julian interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp as a razor. "Watch your tone. You are speaking to my wife."

Victoria looked like she had been slapped. She glared at Elara with pure, unadulterated hatred before spinning on her designer heels and marching away.

Julian looked back down at Elara. A genuine, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Well. I didn't know the little lamb had teeth."

"I have a lot of things you don't know about, Julian," Elara said coldly, dropping her hand from his suit.

Before Julian could respond, his assistant hurried over, whispering something urgent in his ear. Julian nodded, his face turning entirely to business.

"The board is ready for me to sign the merger papers," Julian said to Elara. "Stay here in the lounge. Do not talk to the press. I will be back in ten minutes."

As Julian walked away, leaving her alone by the refreshment table, Elara let out a tired sigh.

But her peace didn't last long. A moment later, a waiter bumped into her, spilling a few drops of champagne onto her wrist.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Vance," the waiter rushed to say.

"It's fine, really," Elara smiled kindly. "Could you just point me to the restroom?"

She followed the waiter’s directions down a quiet, carpeted hallway. She was just washing her hands at the marble sink when the restroom door clicked shut behind her. The lock turned with a sharp *snick*.

Elara looked up into the mirror.

Victoria Thorne was standing behind her, leaning against the door, her green eyes flashing with malice.

"You think you're so clever, playing the devoted wife," Victoria sneered, stepping closer. "You think Julian protected you out there because he cares about you?"

Elara dried her hands, keeping her face expressionless. "I think you need to unlock the door, Victoria."

Victoria laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You're an idiot, Elara. Do you even know *why* Julian destroyed your family? Do you know why he hates your father?"

Elara froze. Her heart skipped a beat. "It was business."

"Business?" Victoria scoffed, stepping right into Elara’s personal space. "Oh, honey. He didn't bankrupt your father for business. He did it for blood. Richard Sterling is the reason Julian's parents died ten years ago."

The air in the room vanished. Elara gripped the edge of the marble sink, her knuckles turning white. "You're lying. My father wouldn't..."

"Your father framed them for embezzlement, leaving them so disgraced they drove their car off a bridge," Victoria whispered venomously. "Julian doesn't love you, Elara. He wants to watch you suffer. You are sleeping in the bed of a man who wants to destroy every last piece of your soul."

Victoria unlocked the door, her cruel smile returning.

"Enjoy your honeymoon," she mocked, before slipping out of the room.

Elara was left alone in the dead silence of the bathroom, the diamond choker around her neck suddenly feeling tight enough to snap her throat in half.