Chapter 174
Elsa
"I'm representing Moonlight Real Estate tonight," I explained, trying to sound professional despite the bizarre circumstances. My voice came out higher than normal, betraying my nerves.
"And I'm pursuing Elsa," Bruce announced boldly, his fingers splaying wider against my hip. "She's finally free of her... previous obligations."
I stiffened, my entire body going rigid with mortification. What the actual fuck? Heat flooded my cheeks, and I had to fight the urge to elbow Bruce in the ribs. Drake's response would surely be explosive—a territorial display, a threat, perhaps even an outright claim on me.
But Drake merely raised an eyebrow, his expression utterly calm. "If Ms. Hale doesn't object, then it's none of my concern."
His indifference hit me like a physical blow. I actually flinched, my breath catching painfully in my chest. After years of possessiveness, after all his threats and manipulation, he was simply... letting go?
"We should greet Ms. Garcia," Drake continued, turning slightly toward Emma. "She'll be expecting us to congratulate her grandchildren."
Emma smiled up at him, her hand resting intimately on his chest. "Of course, darling." She cast a smug glance my way before they turned to leave.
I watched them go, confusion and an unexpected sense of loss washing over me. My fingers trembled slightly, and I shoved them into the folds of my dress to hide the reaction. Had Drake truly moved on so quickly? Was it because he had Emma now? Or perhaps he'd begun his formal courtship with Vera, making me irrelevant to his plans?
This is what you wanted, you idiot, I scolded myself, blinking rapidly to dispel the unexpected sting in my eyes. Freedom from his control.
But the Drake Stone walking away with Emma Watson on his arm wasn't the controlling, possessive alpha I knew. And that terrified me more than any threat he could have made. Because it meant I couldn't predict his next move—and with Drake, the unknown was always the most dangerous thing of all.
After ten years of possessiveness, his sudden disinterest felt more threatening than any rage could have been. Fuck.
"They make a striking couple, don't they?" Bruce's voice pulled me from my thoughts, his hand still pressed against my lower back, fingers splaying wider in a way that made my skin crawl.
I jerked away from his touch, nearly stumbling in my heels. "I need some goddamn air," I muttered, my voice rougher than I intended.
"I'll come with you," he offered eagerly, already stepping toward me.
"Alone, Bruce." I forced a polite smile while my jaw ached from clenching. "Just five fucking minutes to myself. Is that too much to ask?" I immediately regretted snapping, knowing it would only draw more attention.
His expression darkened momentarily before he recovered, nostrils flaring slightly. "Of course. I'll get us some drinks in the meantime." He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear, making me suppress a visible shudder. "Don't worry about Stone. He doesn't deserve you. I'm your current suitor now."
My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. "Bruce, we should be clear—"
"He doesn't even care anymore, Elsa," Bruce interrupted, nodding toward where Drake had disappeared into the crowd. "So stop thinking about him. You're free now."
I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood, knowing this wasn't the place for the conversation we needed to have. "Excuse me," I murmured, turning away before he could protest further, my hands trembling with a mixture of anger and anxiety.
I headed for the nearest exit, practically speed-walking, desperate for escape. The corridor leading to the restrooms was mercifully quieter, the muffled sounds of the gala fading behind me. I closed my eyes for a moment, pressing my back against the cool wall, inhaling deeply to steady my nerves.
Get it together, Elsa. Don't fall apart here, for fuck's sake.
The sudden sound of footsteps made me tense, my eyes snapping open. A server approached with a tray of red wine glasses, walking directly toward me with unusual determination. There was something off about his focused gaze and the slight smile playing at his lips.
I sidestepped just as he "accidentally" tripped, the wine splashing where I had been standing a second earlier. The server's expression flickered with disappointment before morphing into exaggerated apology.
"I'm so terribly sorry, miss!" he exclaimed, loud enough to draw attention from nearby guests.
Before I could respond, a sharp tug at the back of my dress nearly knocked me off balance. I grabbed the wall to steady myself, my nails scraping against the expensive wallpaper as I felt the silk of my silver-gray strapless gown strain against my chest.
"Oops!" came a sickeningly sweet voice behind me. "Your dress was crooked."
I whirled around, nearly losing my footing again, to face Emily , her eyes gleaming with malice as she maintained her grip on my gown. With horror, I felt the fabric slipping, threatening to expose me. My heart hammered against my ribs as adrenaline flooded my system.
"Let go, you bitch," I hissed quietly, acutely aware of the growing audience around us, my cheeks flushing hot with humiliation.
Emily raised her voice instead. "It's just so revealing! I was trying to help. Did you really think wearing something this provocative would get men's attention? How desperate."
Murmurs rippled through the gathering crowd. Some onlookers smirked, clearly enjoying the spectacle, while others exchanged uncomfortable glances. I could feel sweat beading at my hairline as panic threatened to overwhelm me.
"The only desperate one here is you," I whispered, my cheeks burning with humiliation as I clutched my gown to my chest with white-knuckled fingers. "Goddamn it, Emily, let go before I make you regret it."
Before Emily could respond, a jacket landed on my shoulders. Allen had appeared beside me, his expression calm but his eyes hard with anger.
"Ms. Hale," he said smoothly, "please allow me."
The warm weight of his suit jacket enveloped me, providing instant relief. I nodded gratefully, hands shaking as I adjusted it to cover myself properly, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of his cologne.