Chapter 7
A week had passed since Elara sent the text to Lucien, and still, there was no response. All hope was lost now. She had expected it, but she hadn't expected it to hurt this much.
No one knew she had gone to see him. Elara was staying at Ryan's apartment; she couldn't bear to sleep in her own house alone. She heard from Noah occasionally; after their fight, he'd called to check in and sometimes dropped off food for her.
She was currently nestled on Ryan's bed, slowly eating a bowl of soup. Ryan's eyes never left her.
"I want to ask why you're looking at me like that, but I really don't have the strength to know why," Elara said, her spoon scraping the ceramic bowl.
"You talked to him, didn't you?" Ryan pressed.
"Who?" Elara asked, feigning ignorance.
"Lucien, you bitch," Ryan said, pulling the soup bowl away.
"I'm going to bed," Elara announced, adjusting herself under the duvet.
"Oh, come on, Ellie. I know you did. I just hope you didn't do or say anything stupid."
"I didn't do anything, and I didn't talk to anyone," she insisted, pulling the covers over her head. "Good night, Ryan." She could still feel her friend's gaze boring into her, so she didn't dare peek out.
Later that night, the steady, rhythmic breathing beside her told Elara that Ryan had finally given in to sleep. She threw back the covers and sat upright, her mind racing. Deciding to check her messages again, she grabbed her phone.
Nothing.
He genuinely didn't care for her anymore. Who does he think he is, anyway? she thought, bitterness rising in her throat.
She hadn't been back to work since the accident, so she decided to check her emails, just to ensure she hadn't left anyone important hanging. After several minutes of scrolling, one email with a weird heading snagged her attention: "Voss Holdings." She clicked on it and began to read.
Hello Miss Hart,
From the desk of the CEO, Mr. Lucien Voss.
You've been invited for a meeting scheduled for the 20th of September at 12 noon.
Please be punctual.
Have a lovely day.
Signed,
Voss Holdings.
"The fuck?!" It was the 23rd today. "How did I not see this?" she exclaimed, jumping out of the bed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she cursed, furious at her own stupidity. Of course, he'd respond with an email. He's Lucien. A weird, formal being. She slapped her forehead.
What was she going to do? He must think I wasn't interested anymore, she thought, collapsing onto the floor. She needed to let him know immediately that she was still desperate for his help.
She scrambled for his number and texted him without giving it a second thought. It was a quarter past ten at night.
Please can we see?
Feeling the text wasn't enough, she quickly tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. She tried again, asking to see him. She sat on the floor, waiting, tears beginning to well up. An hour passed, and still nothing.
Just as the tears finally began to stream down her face, the phone screen lit up. It was him.
748 W 21st St
That was all he texted.
She quickly wiped away the escaping tears, grabbed a hoodie, and checked herself in the mirror. She splashed cold water on her face and hastily tied her hair into a bun. She checked on Ryan, who was still soundly asleep, and grabbed her purse and the house keys. She didn't want to wake her friend, or her parents.
Stepping out, the late-night cold hit her with surprising force. She rubbed her hands together for warmth and began walking. Her heart sank with every step closer to the destination. She was going to see Lucien again. What if he wants to hurt me this time? she started to panic. It was late, and the last time they met when they were younger, he had sent her out of his house late at night. Memories of that painful night began to cloud her senses.
She reached the address Lucien had sent her. He wasn't there. No one was there.
Five minutes passed, and still, nothing. Then, a man in a dark suit started walking toward her. She instinctively backed away.
"Please don't be scared," he said immediately, stopping a polite distance away. "I'm from Mr. Voss. I'm here to lead you to the car."
Elara's breathing returned to normal, but she still kept a good distance as he led her toward a sleek, black Rolls-Royce .
So he was rich, rich, she thought, swallowing hard as she stared at the expensive vehicle. She felt a wave of nausea from the soup she'd eaten earlier.
The man opened the car door for her to get in. She scanned the interior; there was a man seated inside, facing the other direction. She slipped in. The man outside quietly closed the door and stepped several feet away, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
The interior smelled of rich, luxurious cologne. Her palms were instantly sweaty. There was still a generous space between her and Lucien, but it felt as if their bodies were pressed against each other.
"What do you want?" he began, his voice low and devoid of emotion.
She looked at his profile; it felt unreal to be this close. She nervously wiped her hands on her jeans.
"I'm so sorry, Lucien… I… I didn't know you had sent an email," she stammered.
He didn't say anything, still avoiding looking at her.
"I don't know if you can still help me," she continued, tears already resurfacing, her throat cracking with emotion. "They're all I have," she choked out, burying her face in her hands.
Still no response.
She was crying. She was crying beside him, and he couldn't do anything, he thought. He briefly glanced at her face, buried in her palms.
He hadn't wanted to see her tonight; he'd thought she no longer wanted his help. He hadn't planned to offer the help outright. His original intention was to ask her to marry him—a marriage for the sake of the merger—and to make her life as miserable as she and her family had made his. When she hadn't responded to the email, he and his team had even begun looking for another candidate.
Now, he was battling two impulses: to simply let her go, or to go through with his plan and make her suffer. She sounded exactly like the last time he'd heard her voice, the night he'd sent her away from his parents' house. The night everything came crumbling down.
He cleared his throat. "I'll help you," he finally said, his voice flat. "In exchange for something."
Elara immediately lifted her head, their eyes locking for the first time since the night of the gala. Lucien quickly looked away, his expression carefully blank.
"Of course! I'll do anything!" she said, her voice clearer now.
He reached into a folder beside him and handed a black thick document to her.
The Marriage Contract, Elara read the heading in her mind, confusion flooding her face. She skimmed a little further down the page.
"You want us to get married?!"