Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: ELARA

"We need to talk."

I laughed. The sound came out wrong. Broken.

Nadia didn’t even pull the sheet up to cover herself. Like modesty didn’t even matter now. I couldn’t believe I was looking at my Bay sister’s legs spread wide up, naked.

Ethan didn't move. He just sat there, naked, his dick still hard in my face, with my sister in the bed I paid for.

"Get out," he said.

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. Get out. This is my apartment."

My apartment. The one I bought. The one I put in his name because he said it would mean something. Because I wanted him to feel like a man.

"Ethan!"

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Elara." He stood up. Started pulling on his boxers like this was normal. Like I was interrupting his morning routine. "We were going to tell you. We just... we wanted to wait until after the anniversary."

"How thoughtful," I heard myself say.

Nadia finally spoke. Her voice was soft. Careful. "Elara, I know this looks bad,"

"Looks bad?" My voice cracked. "You're fucking my fiancé in my bed and it looks bad?"

"It's not your bed anymore," Ethan said. He was putting on his shirt now. Casual. Detached. "And technically, it never was. The apartment's in my name. You gave it to me, remember?"

I remembered.

I remembered signing the papers. Remembered the lawyer asking me three times if I was sure. Remembered Ethan's smile when I handed him the keys.

"You planned this," I said slowly.

"We didn't plan anything," Nadia said. She was getting dressed now too. One of my tank tops. She was wearing my clothes. "It just... happened."

"How long?"

Silence.

"How long, Nadia?"

She looked at Ethan. He shrugged.

"Six months," she said finally.

Six months.

I'd bought this apartment eight months ago.

The math was so simple it made me nauseous.

"You need to leave," Ethan said again. "I'll give you an hour to pack your things. Whatever you can carry. The rest stays."

"The rest, " I couldn't finish the sentence. "I paid for everything. The furniture. The kitchen. The, "

"The apartment's mine. Everything in it is mine. That's how ownership works, Elara."

He said my name like it was an inconvenience.

Nadia put her hand on his arm. A comfort gesture. Familiar. They'd done this before. This exact motion.

How many times had I left for work while they…

"I'm calling Mom and Dad," I said. I didn't know why. What could they do? What would they do?

Nadia's expression shifted. Something almost like pity. "I already talked to them."

"What?"

"I told them we needed to have an intervention. About your... control issues."

"My control issues."

"You bought an apartment and put it in Ethan's name without discussing it with anyone," she said. Like she was reading from a script. "You work yourself to death. You don't listen when people try to help you. Mom said you've always been like this. Stubborn. Overwhelming."

The room tilted.

"They know you're here? They know what you're doing?"

"They know you've been struggling," Nadia said softly. "They know you need space to figure yourself out."

Ethan checked his watch. "Fifty-five minutes now."

I looked at him. Really looked at him. At this man I'd loved for three years. This man I'd built a life around.

I didn't recognize him.

Maybe I never had.

I screamed as I lunged at him and attacked

“You sick bastards! How could you do this to me!” I screamed as I lunged at Nadia

I successfully held her hair and pulled while Ethan tried to get me off her. He lifted me and freed her hair from my hand. Nadia slapped my face hard; the humiliation and betrayal stung more than the pain.

My eyes swelled with tears while Ethan dragged me towards the door. As I screamed, I felt the wetness close to my eyes, she had spat in my face. What the hell!

He dragged me out of the bedroom. Down the hallway. Into the living room.

“Leave before things get ugly! This is a loosing battle!” Ethan said calmly

The wine was still on the counter. I trashed enough to hit the wine bottle which in turn put out the flames on the candles.

He'd planned something. For her.

On our anniversary.

He threw me out and closed the door behind him.

Fifty-five minutes to pack three years of my life.

Thirty minutes later, he threw my clothes on my head.

I didn't take anything else.

I sat in my car for ten minutes before I could breathe properly.

Then I called Marcus.

He answered on the first ring. "Babe, aren't you supposed to be getting anniversary dick right now?"

"He's fucking Nadia."

Silence.

"Marcus?"

"Address. Now."

"I'm fine. I just…"

"Elara Vonross, if you don't tell me where you are right now, I will track your phone and show up with a baseball bat and a very bad attitude."

I told him.

He was there in fifteen minutes.

The club was loud and dark and exactly what I needed.

Marcus worked at Eclipse, a strip club downtown that pretended to be upscale. He got us into the VIP section, poured me something strong and sweet, and let me sit in silence while dancers moved on stage.

"You need to call the police," he said finally.

"And tell them what? That I gave my fiancé an apartment and he doesn't want to give it back?"

"That's fraud. Coercion. Something."

"It's legal. I signed the papers. I put his name on everything."

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

Because I loved him. Because he said it would make him feel like he was providing for us. Because I wanted him to feel like a man.

I didn't say any of it out loud.

Marcus pushed another drink toward me. "Your sister is a sociopath."

"She said they didn't plan it."

"And you believe her?"

I didn't answer.

My phone buzzed. A text from my mother.

Nadia told us what happened. How could you! We think it's best if you take some time to reflect on your behavior. We'll talk when you're ready to be reasonable.

I showed Marcus.

He read it twice. Then he took my phone and threw it into my purse. "We're getting you drunk. Properly drunk. And then we're going to figure out what to do about your dumpster fire family."

"I have work tomorrow."

"Fuck work."

"Marcus"

"Elara, you just lost everything. Your man. Your home. Your savings. You're allowed to fall apart for one night."

I took the drink. Downed it. Let him pour me another.

By the third drink, the room was spinning.

By the fifth, I'd stopped counting.

My phone rang sometime after midnight.

I didn't recognize the number at first. Then I did.

Lucien.

"Don't answer it," Marcus said. He was watching me with that worried expression he got when he thought I was about to do something stupid.

I answered it.

"Elara." Lucien's voice was rough. Strained. "Where are you?"

"Why?"

"I need, " He stopped. Breathed. "I need you to come here."

"I'm busy."

"Elara"

"I'm drunk, actually. Very drunk. In a strip club. With my best friend. We're celebrating my breakup and the fact that my family thinks I'm a controlling psychopath."

Silence on the other end.

Then: "Don't come here."

I blinked. "What?"

"I'm," His voice fractured. "I'm not in control right now. Don't come here."

Something in his tone made my skin prickle. Fear. Lucien didn't do fear.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Forget I called."

He hung up.

I stared at my phone.

Marcus grabbed my wrist. "Whatever you're thinking, don't."

"He needs help."

"He's a grown man with more money than God. He'll be fine."

"He called me."

"Because you're his assistant. It's not your job to save him at…," he checked his watch, "…one in the morning when you're six drinks deep."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're a disaster. And if you go to that man's house right now, something bad is going to happen."

I stood up. The room tilted. Marcus caught me before I fell.

"Elara"

"I already lost everything, Marcus." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "My home. My family. Ethan. I can't lose my job too."

"This isn't about your job."

Maybe it wasn't. Maybe I just needed to feel useful. Needed. Something other than disposable.

I called a car.

Marcus followed me outside. "If he tries anything…"

"He won't."

"You don't know that."

I didn't. But I got in the car anyway.

Lucien's building was in the financial district. Sleek. Modern. Intimidating.

The doorman recognized me. Let me through without question.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should. My reflection in the mirrored walls looked wrong. Smudged makeup. Messy hair. I still smelled like Ethan's cologne.

I should have gone home. Wherever home was now.

The elevator stopped on the penthouse floor.

The doors opened.

Lucien was standing in the middle of his living room.

He wasn't facing me.

"I told you not to come," he said. His voice was different. Lower. Dangerous.

"You called me."

"That was a mistake."

I stepped into the apartment. The door closed behind me. Locked automatically.

"What's wrong?"

He turned.

His eyes weren't the pale shade I was used to. They were glowing. Actually glowing. Amber. Inhuman.

I should have run.

I didn't.

"Elara." My name sounded like a warning. "Leave. Now."

"No."

"You don't understand what…"

"Then tell me."

He moved so fast I didn't see it. One second he was across the room. The next, he was in front of me. His hand closed around my wrist. Not hard. Just enough to keep me still.

"You smell like alcohol. And him."

"Ethan's not…"

"I don't care about Ethan." His grip tightened. "You need to leave before I do something we both regret."

I looked up at him. At the man I'd worked for. Cleaned up after. Protected.

"What are you?"

He smiled. It wasn't kind.

"Something you should be afraid of."

I wasn't.

I should have been.

But standing there, drunk and broken and furious, I realized I didn't care what he was.

I just didn't want to be alone.

"Show me," I said.

His eyes widened. Just slightly.

Then his control snapped.