Chapter 6
Elora
"Ma'am, there's a Miss Vance at the door. She says she's your sister."
The dropper slipped in my hand. Essential oil splattered across the counter.
"Did she say what she wanted?"
"She said it's urgent. She has to see you."
Even worse. Eleanor's idea of "urgent" usually meant someone refused to buy her a handbag, wouldn't get out of her way, or the world failed to drop to its knees and kiss her designer heels.
"Should I send her away, ma'am?"
A month ago, I would've told myself not to make trouble. But now, my fingers brushed the warm jade at my throat. I had the nerve to face her.
"No." I headed for the living room. "Let's hear what she wants."
I pushed open the door. Eleanor stood by the fireplace in a skintight nude satin dress, the neckline plunging so low it barely held on.
She was surveying the room, fingertips trailing across a row of silver candlesticks on the mantel.
At the sound, she turned. Those blue eyes swept me up and down before landing on the jade at my throat.
"Well." She pulled her gaze away, her lips curling into something bitter. "Elora. You finally crawled out."
I didn't bite. I crossed to the sofa and sat.
"What do you want?"
She sauntered over and leaned against the back of the opposite sofa, looking down at me.
"You got married. Can't I visit my own sister?" She tilted her head. "I'm trying to be nice. Brenda wanted me to check if you're doing okay here. If anyone's pushing you around."
I forced a smile. Even a three-year-old wouldn't buy that.
"Seriously, Elora, I have to hand it to you." She waggled her rhinestone clutch. "A month ago you were ready to die for Ethan. Now you're Mrs. Genovese. That kind of social climbing? I could never pull it off."
"If you came to tour the manor, you've seen it. You can leave."
"Hold on." She eased into the seat across from me. "I'm here to ask a favor."
There it was.
Eleanor leaned forward, putting on her best wounded-puppy look.
"Ethan's situation... you heard about it, right?" Her eyes welled up. "Lucien froze his trust fund. He doesn't even have a place to live. He knows he messed up. He was drunk that night. Can't you just put in a word for him? One word from you and Lucien would listen."
"I don't interfere in Lucien's business."
"Elora!" Eleanor's eyes went wide. "How can you say that? Don't you feel guilty at all?"
"Oh? Why would I feel guilty?" I spread my hands. "You're the one who told me people should pay for their mistakes."
"Elora! This is all because of you!" She shrieked. "If you hadn't played the victim in front of Lucien, Ethan wouldn't be punished this badly! He just had too much to drink and lost control. That's what men do sometimes. You can't ruin his future over one stupid moment."
"He tried to rape me." Anger flared in my chest.
Eleanor's face froze. "Wh-what rape? Don't make it sound so ugly. He just got a little carried away..."
"He didn't get anywhere because Lucien showed up in time. What if he hadn't come back that night?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Here we go again. Didn't you sleep with Ethan before? What are you playing at?" She flipped her hair. "Look, I'll be straight with you. Ethan can't lose that trust fund. If he goes down, what happens to our engagement? His family's already pushing. I can't be left hanging."
"Not my problem."
"How is it not your problem?" Her voice shot up. "You're sitting pretty while Ethan and I suffer. That makes you happy, doesn't it?"
"Are you done? Get out."
Right on cue, Anthony stepped forward with a gesture toward the door.
Eleanor's face flushed red, then white. Her lips trembled.
"Fine. Just fine." She let out a cold laugh and grabbed her bag. "Where's the bathroom?"
"Anthony, show her."
"Yes, ma'am."
Eleanor followed Anthony out. I sat there, feeling years of suffocating resentment lift from my chest. I felt lighter.
But after I'd finished an entire cup of tea, Eleanor still hadn't returned. Something cold crawled up my spine.
I walked down the corridor, checking each bathroom. All empty. The further I went, the faster my heart pounded. At the end of this hallway was Lucien's study.
The door was ajar. I moved quietly, getting closer. Through the crack came a voice, sticky-sweet and cloying. Eleanor.
"...Lucien, please feel sorry for me. My sister's always been difficult. Sullen and stubborn. If she upset you somehow, let me apologize for her, okay?"
My hand found the doorknob. I couldn't push it open.
All those years, I was always the one who lost. Brenda believed her. Ethan believed her. Teachers, neighbors—everyone. They all looked at that sweet face and gave their trust to bubbly, outgoing Eleanor who knew how to play cute.
Would Lucien be the same?
I pulled my hand back and just stood there, peeking through the crack.
Eleanor's dress was gone. She stood there in lingerie, her blonde hair tumbling over bare shoulders, hands braced on the desk edge, her ass arched in an exaggerated curve.
Lucien's expression was calm. His gaze swept over Eleanor's body.
"Interesting."
My whole body went cold. Of course. It was happening again.
"Stand up straight."
Eleanor blinked, then her face flushed. She straightened, pushing her chest out, striking what she thought was a seductive pose.
"Turn around."
She looked even more pleased. She slowly rotated, and when her back was to him, she even stuck her ass out, trying to give Lucien a better view of what her thong didn't cover.
I clenched my fists. My nails bit into my palms.
After one full turn, Eleanor stopped and gave him a sugary smile. "So? Lucien, am I—"
"Left shoulder's dropping. Anterior pelvic tilt. That waist curve is fake—you're forcing it. Cellulite on the inner thighs. Hip line sits too low. Your body doesn't come close to Elora's."
The smile froze on Eleanor's face. Lucien leaned back in his chair slowly, his gray eyes completely flat.
"Worst of all is your taste. You actually thought that cheap lingerie was worth wearing?"
Eleanor went white. "What—what do you mean..."
"I mean," Lucien raised his eyes, each word deliberate, "you stripped down and stood here, and you couldn't even seduce me with any sincerity. Go home and study some adult magazines. At least next time you humiliate yourself, you'll look professional."
The air turned solid.
Just then, Anthony came running up, sweating. "Miss Eleanor, you can't be here—Ma'am? You too?"
At the noise, everyone in the room turned toward me in the doorway.
Eleanor's lips trembled. Her eyes reddened. The embarrassment on her face twisted into venom.
"Happy now?" She screamed at me. "You just stood there and watched him humiliate me? Elora, are you even my sister?"
"Shut up." I opened the door and walked toward her, step by step. "Eleanor, you ran into my husband's study and stripped. You humiliated yourself."
Her eyes went round. "You—how dare you talk to me like that? Before, you—"
"Before, I gave in to you because I still thought of you as my sister." I cut her off. "I don't owe you anything anymore. Put your clothes on and get out."
She opened her mouth to argue, but Lucien pressed a button on his desk.
"Rocco. Enzo."
Two seconds later, the study door opened. Rocco's gaze swept the room and paused for a second on Eleanor's lace getup. He let out a low whistle.
"Boss, this new taste of yours... pretty bold."
Lucien frowned.
"Throw her out."
Eleanor shrieked. "You can't do this to me! I'm—"
"Shut up." Lucien's gaze skimmed past her, his voice ice. "From today on, this woman is never allowed within a hundred feet of this manor. Clear?"
Enzo nodded. "Crystal clear, sir."
Eleanor lunged for me. Enzo caught her shoulder in one hand, locking her in place. She struggled. Didn't move an inch. The more she fought, the more pathetic she looked.
"Elora! You wait!" Enzo dragged her toward the door by her collar. Her voice followed her out in a screeching trail. "You won't get away with this! He's just bored—you fatty—"
The door slammed shut. Finally, silence.
Lucien picked up a rhinestone hairpin Eleanor had dropped and tossed it to Rocco.
"Trash it."
"You got it."
Rocco winked at me and strolled out, shutting the door behind him. I stood there. My hands were still shaking. I couldn't tell if it was anger or something else.
Lucien rose from his chair and came around the desk toward me.
"You okay?"
I looked up at him. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the tall arched window behind him, gilding his outline in pale gold. His gray eyes held none of their usual coldness, no other emotion either—just something plain and serious.
I wanted to say I was fine. But when I opened my mouth, my throat closed up. This was the first time anyone had taken my side.
"Did you—" My voice came out rough. "Did you mean what you said?"
"Which part?"
"Just... that she..." I bit my lip and looked away. "You said she wasn't good enough. And I..."
I couldn't finish.
Lucien laughed softly. "You want me to say it again?"
I waved my hands frantically. "No!"
His smile deepened. Heat rushed to my face. I stepped back.
"I don't joke about things like that." He moved forward, leaning down to meet my eyes. His gray gaze was so deep it felt like it could swallow me whole. "I don't care about Eleanor. But I will not tolerate anyone humiliating my wife on my property."
My wife. He said it so naturally. But to my ears, it sent ripples spreading outward, one after another. This was just a contract marriage. We'd agreed it was an act. In a year we'd go our separate ways. So why did he always say things like this when I had no defenses up?
I turned my face away, forcing down the lump in my throat.
"Anyway... thank you."
"Don't mention it." He lifted his head and turned back toward the long table. "Go on. Natalie's waiting for you for afternoon tea."
"Okay."
I turned and left, my steps so fast I nearly swung both arms on the same side. Only after I'd gone far enough did I dare slow down.
Elora Vance, get a grip. He just said something fair and your heart's pounding like this?
I tried desperately to cool myself down.
For one absurd second, I wondered—what if the contract wasn't fake?
But I slapped that thought back down the moment it surfaced.
Stop dreaming. A man with his status and position—you're lucky to have even a moment of his time.
All through afternoon tea, I was distracted. Natalie and I discussed what flowers to plant in the autumn garden. I made vague sounds of agreement while my eyes kept drifting toward the living room door.
"Thinking about Lucien?"
I almost spit out my tea.
"Natalie!" I set down my cup in a panic, my ears burning. "Don't—don't say things like that. I'm just... worried Eleanor will come back and make a scene."
Natalie didn't push it. She just said slowly, "Don't worry about Eleanor. Lucien said she's not allowed in. No one will dare let her through."
I ducked my head and shoved a spoonful of cream into my mouth. So sweet. Sweeter than anything I'd ever tasted before.
Night fell.
I came out of the shower. Lucien still wasn't back.
The reading lamp on the nightstand glowed, next to the essential oil I'd tried blending today.
Vetiver from Réunion Island was hard to come by—the batch I'd just tracked down had already been claimed.
I'd substituted neroli and wanted to test the effect.
I dropped two drops onto a diffusion stone. A sweet, grassy-woody scent slowly filled the air. After that, I climbed into bed and picked up a botany text I was halfway through. But I'd barely read two lines when my phone buzzed.
The screen flashed "Brenda."
"Brenda?"
"Elora!" Brenda's voice stabbed my eardrum. "What the hell are you doing? Eleanor came home crying! You had Lucien throw her out like garbage? How can you be so vicious? She's your own sister!"
I held the phone away from my ear. When she finished yelling, I said flatly, "She stripped naked and tried to seduce my husband. What did you expect me to do? Applaud?"
"What seduction? She was playing around—"
"Playing around? Ha! She's twenty years old, Brenda. Not two. You're her mother. Why are you coming to me instead of teaching her properly?"
"Don't you sass me!" Brenda raised her pitch. "Don't you know how fragile Eleanor is? She can't handle stress! And you just stood there and watched your husband humiliate her! Elora, how can you be so cruel?"
Cruel. Ha! Eleanor broke a vase—my fault for not watching it. Eleanor seduced my boyfriend—my fault for not being attractive enough to keep him. Always my fault.
"Brenda. You've favored her for twenty years. Let me ask you one thing—why?"
Silence on the other end. I sniffed and kept going.
"Why is it that no matter what she does, she's always right and I'm always wrong? Why can she steal my necklace, steal my boyfriend, steal everything from me, and you smile and forgive her—then turn around and tell me to give in to her? Why?"
She didn't answer for a long time. Long enough that I thought maybe she'd give me a reason I could accept.
"What's the point of talking about this?
" she finally said, her voice sharp. "You're the older one.
Isn't it natural for you to give in to your sister?
Stop whining and do something useful. I'm telling you, whether Eleanor's wedding happens is all up to you.
Go talk to Lucien. Tell him to unfreeze Ethan's trust fund and invest in Richard's company.
We're all family. You can't help with something this small? "
I froze. The bitterness in my chest evaporated. I'd asked her why she favored Eleanor. She couldn't even give me a "I didn't mean it." As if my question, carrying twenty years of hurt, was just an opening act before she asked me for a favor.
That string I'd been holding taut for too long finally snapped.
"Are you done?"
"Huh?" Brenda didn't catch on. "Done with what—"
"You called to yell at me, didn't you? Keep going. I'm listening."
"What kind of attitude is that—"
"Never mind." I leaned back against the headboard.
"Elora!"
"My answer is no," I spoke slowly, as if spitting out everything I'd buried for twenty years. "I won't plead Eleanor's case. I won't have Lucien invest in Richard's company. Whatever happens to all of you has nothing to do with me."
"Are you insane? Don't forget, your last name is Vance—"
"My last name isn't Vance anymore." My voice was quiet. "It's Genovese now."
Silence on the other end. I closed my eyes.
"Don't call again."