Chapter 71
Elara
The door opened from inside.
Julian stood there.
Navy suit. Silver cufflinks. Hair perfectly styled. Face expressionless.
His eyes moved over me. Slow. Assessing.
I saw something flicker in them. Too fast to name.
"Come in."
He turned. Walked back to his desk.
I stepped inside.
Atlas closed the door behind me.
The office was enormous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. The city spread out below like a kingdom. Central Park a green smudge to the north. Buildings glittering in the morning sun.
Julian's desk was dark wood. Massive. Only a laptop, a few files, and a sleek pen sat on its surface.
Everything else was empty space. Control. Order.
"Sit."
I moved toward the chair across from his desk.
Sat down carefully.
My body protested. Cramps twisted through my abdomen. I kept my face blank.
Julian settled into his chair. Leaned back. Fingers steepled under his chin.
He studied me in silence.
Five seconds. Ten. Twenty.
I held his gaze.
I wouldn't look away first. Not this time.
Finally, he spoke, "You look terrible."
I didn't respond.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"No."
"Eat?"
"No."
His jaw tightened. "You need to take better care of yourself."
A bitter laugh escaped me. Short. Sharp.
"You're worried about my health? How thoughtful."
His eyes narrowed. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't make this harder than it has to be."
I leaned forward. The movement sent a spike of pain through my abdomen. I ignored it.
"You gave me until noon. It's 9:30. I'm early."
Julian glanced at his watch. Expensive. Understated. Probably cost more than a year's rent.
"So you are."
He set his hands flat on the desk.
"I assume that means you've made your decision."
I took a breath. Let it out slowly.
"Yes."
"And?"
My nails dug into my palms.
"I agree."
Silence.
Julian's expression didn't change. But something in his posture shifted. Relaxed.
"Be specific, Elara. You agree to what?"
Heat crawled up my neck. Shame. Fury.
He was going to make me say it. Every word.
"I agree to... be what you want me to be."
"Which is?"
I closed my eyes. Forced the words out.
"Your mistress. Your... secret."
When I opened my eyes, Julian was watching me with that same unreadable expression.
"Good," he said quietly. "You're learning."
He stood. Walked to the windows.
Stood with his back to me, silhouetted against the light.
"We need to establish some ground rules."
Of course we did.
"First: This arrangement stays private. You. Me. Atlas. No one else knows."
I stayed silent.
"Second: I need to know where you are. Atlas will pick you up from school. Bring you here when I need you."
My stomach turned.
"Third..." He turned to face me. "No other men. You're mine now."
The possessiveness in his voice made my skin crawl.
"What about you?" The question came out before I could stop it. "Do you get to keep Sloane? Keep everyone else?"
Julian's expression hardened.
"That's not your concern."
"So yes."
"Elara—"
"It's fine." I cut him off. My voice was flat. Dead. "I understand the rules. You own me. I don't own you."
He crossed the room. Stopped in front of my chair.
Looked down at me.
"Fourth," he said quietly. "We need to talk about protection."
My blood ran cold.
"We'll go to the doctor this afternoon. Get you on something reliable."
I thought of the Plan B dissolving in my stomach. The cramps twisting through me.
"Is there something you need to tell me?" His voice sharpened. "Did something happen Saturday night that I should know about?"
I shook my head quickly. "No."
His eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me, Elara. The consequences—"
"I'm not lying."
We stared at each other.
Finally, he stepped back.
"Good. Because if you ever try to trap me—"
"I won't." The words came out harsh. Bitter. "Trust me. The last thing I want is to be tied to you permanently."
Something flickered across his face. Hurt? Anger?
It was gone before I could tell.
He returned to his desk. Opened a drawer. Pulled out a folder.
"There's one more thing. Victoria."
I tensed.
"She's caused you enough trouble. And having you in the same class is clearly... problematic."
He slid the folder across the desk.
"You're being transferred. Effective immediately. From AP Honors to the Arts Experimental track."
I opened the folder. Stared at the paperwork.
Transfer authorization. New schedule. New classroom assignments.
"The Arts track has less academic pressure," Julian continued. "Smaller classes. More studio time. It'll give you space to focus on your portfolio without Victoria's interference."
I looked up at him.
"You're isolating me."
"I'm protecting you."
"From your own family."
His jaw tightened. "Yes."
"And controlling who I interact with."
"That too."
At least he was honest.
I flipped through the schedule. New teachers. New students. A completely different world from the AP track where Emily and Madison and everyone else lived.
"When does this start?"
"This afternoon. You'll report to the Arts building after lunch. I've already notified the administration."
Of course he had.
"Atlas will pick you up after school. We'll go to the doctor. Get the prescription sorted."
The clinical way he said it made me want to scream.
But I just nodded.
"Okay."
Julian studied me for a long moment.
Then he stood. Walked around the desk.
Stopped beside my chair.
I forced myself not to flinch as he reached toward me.
His hand hesitated. Hovered near my face.
I pulled back instinctively.
His expression darkened.
"You're still afraid of me."
I didn't answer.
"You shouldn't be." His hand dropped to my shoulder instead. Squeezed gently. "I'm not going to hurt you, Elara. Not if you cooperate."
The implied threat hung in the air. His fingers moved to my hair. Stroked it almost tenderly.
I sat frozen. Every muscle locked.
"You'll get used to this," he murmured. "I'll make sure of it."
I thought: "You already hurt me. You're hurting me right now."
But I kept my mouth shut.
Julian's hand finally withdrew.
He stepped back.
"You can go to school now. Atlas will be waiting at 3 PM. Don't be late."
I stood. Grabbed the folder.
Walked toward the door on numb legs.
"Elara."
I stopped. Didn't turn around.
"You made the right choice."
I pulled the door open.
Left without answering.