Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE: ELARA

"So, what are you trying to say?"

I beat back a sigh.

Three years of doing this and it still sickened me to say it.

"Mr. Blackwood won't be seeing you, " I paused for effect to let it sink in. "Ever."

"What?" She blinked, confused.

I bit my lip, shuffling closer. This wasn't going well.

"Mr. Blackwood, "

"I heard what you said, you little bitch!" she sneered. I jerked back in shock.

"What right do you think you have to even talk to me? Your job is to buzz me into his office when I want, not speak like you're having some sort of conversation," she hissed.

Whatever ounce of pity I had in store for this woman vanished with immediate effect.

I straightened my shoulders and heard her scoff. Just before I could open my mouth to speak, she began to walk toward Lucien's office.

My eyes grew wide. Legs walked faster than my mind could allow as I blocked her path.

"Miss, you can't go in there. He's having a meeting," I said hurriedly, but she pushed me out of the way.

I wasn't thinking when I grabbed her by the wrist. She hissed, her eyes seemed to glow as she spun around with fury.

"You wench. How dare you!" she screeched. My head turned to the side with instant force and I hissed out in pain from the slap and then the coffee, Splash! On my face and dress.

"I could get you fired, you imbec…"

The door to Lucien's office slammed open.

Everything stopped.

The woman, Victoria something, I didn't care anymore, went still. Her hand was still raised. My cheek was still burning.

Lucien stood in the doorway.

He didn't speak immediately. He didn't have to. The temperature in the room dropped. I felt it in my bones. The air pressed down like something alive and angry.

His eyes locked onto Victoria first. Then they slid to me. To the red mark I could feel spreading across my face.

"Out," he said. His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

Victoria laughed. Actually laughed. "Lucien, darling, your assistant, "

"Out."

The word cut through her sentence like a blade. She flinched. I'd never seen anyone make Victoria Moretti flinch before.

"You don't mean,"

"If you're still standing in my building in the next sixty seconds, I will have security remove you. Permanently."

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

She looked at me like this was somehow my fault. Like I'd orchestrated her humiliation instead of just standing here with a handprint on my face and brown coffee stains all over my dress.

"This isn't over," she hissed at me.

Lucien took one step forward. Just one.

Victoria left.

The silence after she was gone felt heavier than her presence.

I stood there, frozen, my hand pressed to my cheek. I should say something. Apologize for the disruption. Thank him for stepping in. Do my job.

Instead, I just stared at the floor.

"Elara."

I looked up.

His eyes were still that unnatural pale shade, but something had shifted in them. Something I didn't recognize.

"Go home," he said.

"I'm fine. I can,"

"Go home."

It wasn't a request.

I sighed a relieve, minus the confrontation, I have been wanting to.

I nodded. Grabbed my bag from my desk. My hands were shaking. I didn't know why. Victoria slapped me or poured coffee on me. It wasn't the first time someone had been cruel. It wouldn't be the last.

But something about the way Lucien looked at her, at me and made my skin crawl.

I was halfway to the elevator when he called my name again.

I turned.

He was holding something. His credit card.

"Take the day. Get yourself checked if you need to. Bill it to the company."

"I don't need,"

"Take it."

I walked back. Took the card. Our fingers brushed.

His hand was burning hot.

I pulled away too fast. He noticed. Of course he noticed.

"Thank you," I said. My voice sounded wrong. Small.

He said nothing. Just watched me leave.

I didn't go home.

I sat in my car in the parking garage for twenty minutes, staring at my phone.

Today was supposed to be my anniversary.

I'd been so focused on Victoria, on work, on keeping everything running smoothly, that I'd taken way too time at the office rather than enjoying the anniversary I had planned.

Almost.

I checked my messages. Four unread texts to Ethan. No responses.

He was angry. I knew he was angry.

I should have taken the day off. I'd promised him I would. But Lucien needed the quarterly reports restructured, and the board meeting got moved up, and somehow it became easier to say yes to work than to fight for a single day that was supposed to matter.

I typed out another message. I'm leaving now. I promise. Twenty minutes.

The lie tasted familiar.

I started the car.

Traffic was hell. Every light turned red the second I approached. My phone sat in the cupholder, silent and accusing.

Ethan was probably at the apartment by now. Probably pacing. Or worse, sitting on the couch, staring at the door, deciding whether or not this was the last time he forgave me.

My phone buzzed.

Relief flooded through me so fast I almost missed my turn.

It wasn't Ethan.

It was Nadia.

Happy anniversary! Hope Ethan's treating you right. You deserve it, sis. ❤️

I stared at the message longer than I should have. The heart emoji felt wrong. Nadia didn't use emojis. She didn't text me first. She didn't remember anniversaries.

I didn't reply.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Why did she text me? Why did she care? Nadia had never cared about my relationship. She barely acknowledged Ethan existed unless she was reminding me how lucky I was that someone wanted me.

I threw the phone back into the cupholder.

Paranoid. I was being paranoid. Nadia was trying to be nice. That was all.

I pulled into the apartment complex and parked. The lights were on in the living room. Ethan was home.

Relief and dread twisted together in my chest.

I took the stairs instead of the elevator. I didn't know why. Maybe because it gave me time to think. Time to figure out what I was going to say.

I'm sorry. I know I should have left earlier. I'll make it up to you. I promise.

The words felt hollow before I even said them.

I reached the door and paused. My keys were in my hand, but I didn't use them.

I knocked instead.

No answer.

I knocked again.

Still nothing.

My stomach dropped.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The apartment smelled like vanilla candles and something else. Perfume. Not mine.

"Ethan?"

Silence.

The living room was empty. The candles on the table had burned halfway down. There was a bottle of wine on the counter. Two glasses.

He did plan something. He remembered.

And I ruined it.

I walked down the hallway toward the bedroom. The door was cracked open. I could hear something now. Breathing. Movement.

I pushed the door open.

Ethan was on the bed.

He was balls deep inside someone, I looked at the familiar face.

“Nadia!” my voice sunk into itself in disbelief

They didn't hear me at first. They were too focused on each other. Too comfortable. Too familiar. He was sucking on her nipples while fucking her slowly on our bed.

This wasn't new.

The realization hit me before the pain did.

Nadia saw me first. Her eyes went wide. She didn't scream. She didn't scramble to cover herself. I watched her face morph into a smile as she wrapped her legs around Ethan’s waist aiding him and making sure he came inside her as she moaned.

Ethan noticed she had been looking behind him and turned.

For a second, no one moved.

Then he smiled.

Not embarrassed. Not guilty.

Relieved.

"Elara," he said. His voice was calm. Too calm. "We need to talk."