Chapter 115
Elara
The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, the kind of space designed for staff to move unseen between the dining rooms. Julian had pulled me into this hidden corridor with such force that I'd stumbled in my borrowed heels, catching myself against the wall while he released my arm and turned to face me, his expression unlike anything I'd seen before—raw fury mixed with something that looked disturbingly like pain.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the rage underneath it. I straightened, forcing myself to meet his eyes even though my heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
"I'm having dinner with someone who actually wants to help me."
"By pretending to be his girlfriend? By letting him parade you around?"
His jaw was so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. He took a step closer, and I instinctively pressed back against the wall.
"He's using you to get to me. This whole thing—the dinner, the award slot, calling you his girlfriend—it's all just a game."
"And what am I to you?" The question escaped before I could stop it, and I watched something flicker across his face. "Your dirty secret? The girl you fuck when you're done playing perfect fiancé with Sloane?"
His hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him.
"Don't. Don't reduce what we—"
"What we what, Julian?" I jerked my head away from his grasp, anger finally overtaking fear. "We don't have anything. You made that very clear when you chose her over me, again and again."
"This isn't about choosing—"
"Then what is it about? Your image? Your family's expectations?" I was trembling now, all the hurt and rage I'd been suppressing finally breaking free. "I asked you for one thing. One chance to prove myself. And you threw it back in my face like I was some gold-digger trying to copy your fiancée."
He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, there was something desperate in his gaze.
"You don't understand what you're doing. Marcus Hartley isn't—"
"He's giving me a chance you refused to give me."
My voice cracked despite my best efforts. Julian's expression darkened, and before I could process what was happening, he had me pinned against the wall, his body blocking any escape route.
"You think you're punishing me. You're using him to make me—"
"To make you what? Jealous?"
Even as I challenged him, my pulse raced at his nearness. His hand came up to rest against the wall beside my head, caging me in.
"Didn't you know exactly what seeing you with him would do to me?"
The accusation hung between us. I wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him I'd had no idea he'd even be here. But the truth was more complicated. Some small, vindictive part of me had hoped he'd find out, had wanted him to feel even a fraction of the pain I'd endured watching him with Sloane.
Footsteps echoed in the main hallway, followed by Marcus's voice.
"Julian? Where'd you disappear to?"
Marcus appeared at the end of the corridor, his expression shifting from casual to calculated as he took in the scene—Julian crowding me against the wall, my flushed face, the tension crackling between us.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Julian didn't move, didn't even look at him. His eyes stayed locked on mine.
"We're having a private conversation."
"Looks pretty one-sided from where I'm standing." Marcus took a few steps closer, and I felt Julian's body go rigid against mine. "Elara, sweetheart, are you alright?"
The endearment made Julian's jaw clench so hard I heard his teeth grind.
"Don't call her that."
"Why not? She's my girlfriend, isn't she?"
Marcus's smile was sharp. Julian spoke, his voice deadly quiet.
"She's not your anything."
"Funny. Because from where I'm sitting, she came to me asking for help. She agreed to be my date tonight. She's wearing a dress I bought for her." His gaze flickered to Julian. "What exactly have you done for her lately besides make her cry?"
Julian's hand slammed against the wall beside my head, making me flinch.
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"Don't I? I know she's talented. I know she deserves better than being someone's secret shame." Marcus's smile widened. "And I know that right now, she's with me, not you."
Something snapped in Julian's expression. Before I could react, he had turned fully toward me, his hand sliding into my hair as he pulled me into a kiss. I gasped against his mouth, my hands coming up instinctively to push against his chest, but he only deepened the kiss, his other hand gripping my waist hard enough to bruise.
When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy, disoriented, my lips swollen and my breathing ragged. He kept his forehead pressed against mine.
"You're not his. You never will be."
Behind him, Marcus laughed.
"Well, I have to admit, I didn't think I'd actually get to see the great Julian Vane lose his composure. The family pride really does have its limits, doesn't it?"
Julian's grip on me tightened for a moment before he slowly released me, turning to face Marcus with an expression that had gone cold and deadly.
"This doesn't concern you."
"Oh, but it does. Because Elara came to me for help." Marcus paused. "So yes, Julian, this very much concerns me."
"You're using her. You don't give a damn about her art or her future."
"Maybe. Or maybe I just recognize talent when I see it and don't feel the need to keep it locked away like some dirty secret."
I felt Julian tense beside me. I knew if I didn't intervene, this was going to escalate into something worse.
"Stop. Both of you, just stop."
They both turned to look at me. I took a breath, trying to steady myself.
"Marcus, you said you'd consider giving me the award slot if I came tonight. Are you still willing to do that?"
Marcus's expression shifted, something calculating entering his eyes.
"I said I'd consider it. But I'm afraid the situation has changed somewhat."
My stomach dropped.
"What do you mean?"
"Well," he gestured between Julian and me, "it's become clear that your relationship with Julian is more complicated than you led me to believe. And I'm not particularly interested in getting caught in the middle of whatever this is." He straightened his cuffs. "I think it's best if we end our arrangement here."
"You can't—"
"I can, actually. And I am." His smile was almost apologetic. "I'm sorry, Elara. You're talented, truly. But I don't make a habit of investing in complications." He glanced at Julian. "And you, my friend, are definitely a complication."
"You promised!" The words burst out of me, desperate and raw. "You said if I came tonight, if I played along with your game, you'd give me the slot. You promised!"
Marcus had the decency to look slightly uncomfortable, but his expression remained firm.
"I said I'd consider it. I never made any guarantees."
"You lying piece of—" I took a step toward him, fury overriding every other emotion. "You used me. You knew exactly what you were doing, you knew Julian would be here, you just wanted to—"
"To prove a point. Which I did. And now I'm done." He looked past me to Julian. "She's all yours, Vane. Try not to fuck it up this time."
Then he was walking away, leaving me standing there with my hands shaking and my vision blurring with tears of rage and humiliation. I'd debased myself for nothing. I'd put on this dress, pretended to be his girlfriend, endured Sloane's smug superiority and Julian's jealous fury, all for absolutely nothing.
"Elara—"
Julian's voice was soft, careful, but I couldn't stand to hear it.
"Don't. Just—don't."
"Let me take you home."
"I can get myself home. I don't need your—"
His hand closed around my wrist, gentle but firm.
"Please. Just let me take you home."