Chapter 4 Chapter Four
Elena's POV
"Who is She?" I asked again when a word didn't come out from Rafael, my tone was a bit high this time, and I was glaring at him already.
"C'mon, baby, is that how you greet the birthday boy?" He said with a voice too bright, too smooth, and composed for someone who is doing something wrong. "You came all the way to surprise me, so what's up with the sour mood?"
The way he acted was enough for me to see the handwriting on the wall; he didn't want me. Rafael only acted composed when he was lying and up to some no-good stuff. "Happy birthday, Love." I managed a strained smile.
His eyes flicked briefly to where Nikolai was speaking to another man, something in Rafael's expression tightened, but he forced a smile. "Thank you, Elena." My brows furrow, he never used my name. What happened to those sweet pet names? I didn't want to make a fuss over that. "C'mon, let me introduce you to others."
"No, I think I am a bit sweaty, let me change into something nice for the party and..."
He interrupts me, "You know, you don't need make-up to look good, you are just perfect like this, but you could freshen up, but the gown you are wearing is just perfect. I like it."
"But..."
"It's my party and you are my girl. Trust me when I say you look good even in a potato sack." He brings his lips close to my earlobe, "Did I ever tell you how perfect you look in conservative wear..." I pushed him slightly from my side.
"Stop that, I am all sweaty, and you are becoming talkative," He giggles, pulling away from me.
"Am I?"
"Yes..."
"And you like it?" He teases, trying to tickle me
"Stop that, people are watching and I am still mad at you for not telling me that you are having a party." This time I fake a frown.
Yes, I was mad, but somehow I just couldn't show how infuriated I was whenever I was around him.
"My bad..." He held his chest, "but I promise, it's not intentional."
"It's fine, I would let you off the hook, because it's your day." I pulled his cheeks playfully.
"That's my girl, now let me take you to your room."
"No..." I stop him, "You are the birthday boy, or should I say man." He giggles awkwardly, with his eyes everywhere but not on me, "Just go on and enjoy the party while she helps me out." I pointed to the maid that Nikolai had asked to assist me.
"Good then..." He said, retrieving his step without giving me another glance, not even a peck for a fiancée he hadn't seen in a while.
He is just carried away.
I made a mental excuse for him, while I let the maid take me to a room upstairs.
In less than thirty minutes, I had washed up and returned to the party with a simple, plain dress, without make-up, like Rafael always wanted me to appear whenever I went out with him.
Just when I walked back into the party, I felt like my heart had left my chest.
I wanted to disappear.
Every breath I took felt heavy, thick with perfume, alcohol, and humiliation.
Rafael was there again with her. He moved across the room with that same charming smile plastered on his face like a mask he had worn far too often. The woman beside him, tall, blonde, and flawless, clung to his arm possessively, her manicured fingers curled around him as though she owned him.
It was the same woman from earlier.
And she was dressed in a gown that revealed almost everything, her cleavage on full display. The kind of outfit Rafael always claimed to despise. He used to say women who dressed that way had no decency. I had changed my entire wardrobe to please him, to fit into the version of woman he said he respected. Yet here he was, basking in the attention of everything he said he hated.
"Ahem..." I cleared my throat, the moment I got closer to them after hesitating for a second, to either go back or confront them.
"Hey there!" Rafael walked closer and brushed a kiss against my cheek. It felt cold. Forced. “I didn't know you would come down so fast. You know, you shouldn’t have gone through the trouble. You must be tired from the flight.”
The woman at his side smiled too widely, and moved closer also, standing beside us. “Oh, come on, baby. She’s your fiancée. Be nice.”
Baby.
My stomach twisted.
Rafael gave her a warning glance, but she only laughed and offered me a glass of champagne from the tray that a waiter passed. “Drink, sweetheart. You look like you need it.”
I hesitated. Something about her tone, syrupy sweet, sharp underneath, made my instincts prickle.
Before I could refuse, Adrian took the glass and pressed it into my hand. “Relax, Elena. It’s just a drink.”
“Of course,” I murmured, forcing a smile as I lifted it to my lips. "And she is..."
"Uh-oh..." Rafael hesitated, turning his gaze to her.
"Arabella...," she said out of nowhere stretching out her hand to me, "my bad, I am Arabella, his secretary, and I heard a lot about you." My brows furrowed as my eyes darted between them. I want to believe the only relationship they share is an employer-employee relationship, but it's fucking hard to just put that tag on their relationship; they seem too close, like they are an item.
I shake my head, pushing the thought away from my head, "Good things?"
"C'mon, Elena, you know I would never say anything bad about you," Rafael said placing his hand on my shoulder awkwardly. I haven't replied to Rafael when a man and a woman walked up to us.
"Hey birthday boy, or should I say man?" Rafael laughs as he shakes the man's hand.
"C'mon, honey, he is a man now." The woman beside the man said playfully.
"If Mrs. Salvatore thinks I am a man, then I guess it's birthday man, I am getting too old to be called a boy, don't you think, Mr. Salvatore."
"Sure you are." the man he just called Salvatore replied, "Happy birthday..." He finally said.
"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Salvatore.." Rafael said, but the man's eyes were on me.
"Hey there, I think I know this face? Do I? Please remind me beauty." His eyes were now on me. I gave him a smile.
“Sure, you do,” Rafael said smoothly, his deep voice commanding attention. “This is Elena… Viktor Moretti’s daughter.”
The words fell like glass shattering in my chest.
The woman beside him leaned closer, her perfume too strong, her eyes calculating. “Viktor Moretti’s daughter?” she asked, a hint of disbelief curling at the edge of her tone.
“Yes,” Rafael confirmed, his expression calm, proud even but not the way I wanted. Not as mine. Just business. Just formality.
No fiancée. No Elena, the woman I love.
I swallowed hard and smiled politely, forcing my lips to curve as the woman nodded approvingly, murmuring something about powerful alliances. My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass. I told myself not to care, that this was just politics, just image but the ache in my chest disagreed.
As he moved from one group to another, shaking hands, exchanging clipped words about investments and partnerships, I stood beside him, smiling when needed, nodding when spoken to. My smile felt heavy. Every time I opened my mouth, someone would glance past me at him.
And every time he introduced me, I was just Viktor Moretti’s daughter.
When it was time for him to cut the cake, I expected him to reach for me, to call me over, to stand beside him the way a fiancée should. Instead, his secretary, Arabella, was already at his side. Elegant. Composed. Perfectly confident in her place next to him.
My stomach twisted.
I told myself not to read into it, but Arabella’s smile as she leaned close to whisper something in his ear made my skin prickle. He laughed softly the way he used to laugh with me.
The crowd cheered as the candles flickered out. Cameras flashed. Rafael’s hand brushed against Arabella’s arm as he handed her the knife, and something inside me cracked.
I couldn’t breathe.
So I reached for the nearest tray of wine glasses and took one. Then another. And another.
The third glass burned its way down my throat, but the ache in my chest dulled a little, replaced by a fuzzy lightness that made everything blur at the edges. I didn’t care about the stares anymore. I didn’t care that my head was spinning slightly.
But soon, the floor seemed to tilt under me. My pulse quickened. My skin felt too warm, too tight. The lights grew harsher, brighter.
I blinked, trying to steady myself, but my vision wavered. “What…?” I muttered, setting the glass down. My fingers felt weak. My heart thudded strangely in my chest.
“Elena.”
Rafael’s voice sliced through the noise sharp, controlled, and furious. He was beside me in a second, his hand gripping my arm tightly. Too tightly.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, leaning close so only I could hear. His breath was sharp with irritation, not concern. “You’re drunk.”