Chapter 47
Elena's POV
The scenery outside grew more dramatic—towering snow-covered peaks, pristine white valleys—but the atmosphere inside the car had frozen solid.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak.
"My father is in trouble," I said. "The Cross family has been losing ground in business disputes. The pack is starting to question his leadership."
Damon's knuckles whitened on the wheel.
"If he can't turn things around..." I paused. "Conflict is inevitable."
"I didn't know that." Damon's voice carried surprise.
"So... my father is rushing to marry me off to you to secure financial and resource support from the Vance family."
The car slowed again. Damon's face went carefully blank.
"I see."
"I need to ask you to do something." I finally looked at him. "I need you to convince my father to let this go. To stop forcing this marriage."
"Elena—"
"Please."
He pulled over to the side of the road. Shifted into park. Turned to face me fully.
"Let me get this straight." His voice was strange. Flat. "You want me to tell your father I won't marry you."
"Yes."
"You..." He searched my face. "You don't want to marry me."
It wasn't a question. But I answered anyway.
"I have feelings for someone else." I met his eyes. "Why would I want to marry you?"
Something in his expression crumbled. Just for a second. Then smoothed over again.
"I'll talk to him," he said quietly. "I'll help your father. You won't have to—" He stopped. Started again. "You won't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"Thank you."
I felt him staring at me, but I didn't turn.
I was too exhausted to care.
"You look tired," Damon said quietly. "The back seat reclines. You can rest."
I didn't refuse—I truly couldn't hold myself upright anymore. I climbed into the back and curled up, but my brow stayed furrowed even as my eyes drifted shut.
Can I really get him to help my family without marrying him? Or am I just fooling myself... How did I end up here... I'm so tired...
Half-asleep, I felt like I was trapped in a freezing cage.
I wanted warmth. I wanted freedom.
---
"Elena. We're here."
I opened my eyes. Outside the window: crystal glass domes, silver spires, massive ice sculptures glittering in the pale light.
Ice Palace Resort.
Damon's car bypassed the regular checkpoint entirely. The guards recognized the Vance vehicle and saluted as we drove through into a private access road that led directly to the main tower's executive elevator.
He pulled out a special keycard and swiped us in. No front desk. No check-in.
The elevator display read: Penthouse Suite.
"I reserved this ahead of time," Damon said. "The whole floor is ours."
The entire top floor was one suite—six bedrooms, two oversized bathrooms, an open-plan living and dining area, a game room, and a private theater. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the stunning mountain vista.
"I've been wanting to bring you here for ages," Damon said, gesturing around. "I can invite some friends up later—skiing, hot springs, everything."
So many bedrooms. Who exactly was he planning to invite?
I scanned the space and noticed the master bedroom door was ajar. A familiar, overwhelming scent drifted out—
Cinnamon. Blood orange. Liquor.
My heart stopped.
The master bedroom door swung fully open.
Scarlett stepped out wearing a silk robe, her chestnut hair damp and loose over her shoulders. She'd clearly just showered.
Her scent flooded the entire suite.
She blinked when she saw me, then smiled with practiced warmth. "Elena. You're here."
Her tone was easy, natural—like she was the hostess welcoming a guest.
Of course. Of course Scarlett is here.
"Scarlett found out about what happened at the dinner..." Damon rushed to explain. "She wanted to apologize too. This trip is both of us making it up to you."
Both of us.
I watched Scarlett walk to the bar and pour Damon a glass of whiskey without asking. "Your favorite."
Then she turned to me with a smile. "What would you like? I'll get it for you."
The perfect hostess.
"I'm fine," I said coldly. "I don't drink."
Scarlett's smile didn't waver. "I'm sorry about the other night, Elena. I shouldn't have let you take the blame. Damon said you've been upset, so we arranged this trip to make things right."
Her eyes were warm, but there was unmistakable triumph beneath the surface.
I stared at her, expressionless.
Make things right.
"Elena, why don't you pick a room and rest," Damon said, clearly trying to defuse the tension.
---
Damon led me to the bedroom next to the master—separated by only a thin wall. I'd be able to hear everything that happened on the other side.
His own room was on the opposite end of the suite.
He'd clearly be shuttling between the two.
He closed the door and lowered his voice. "Elena, don't be mad that I didn't tell you. I just want you to give Scarlett another chance."
"She's my girlfriend. If you two can't get along, it makes things difficult for me."
I let out a cold laugh. "You're the one dating her, not me."
"I just want the people closest to me to accept her."
"Whether I accept her or not won't change her position in your life," I said flatly. "You should be more concerned about what your parents and grandfather think."
Damon took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Fine. I get it. Do you want to come down for dinner?"
"I'm tired from the drive," I said. "You and Scarlett go. I don't want to be a third wheel."
"Then I'll bring food up for you. What do you want?"
"Whatever. I'm not picky."
After Damon left, I collapsed onto the bed like a puppet with cut strings.
Does he think I'm stupid?
He didn't invite me here to apologize.