Elara
Dinner.
That was what he called this elaborate charade. I sat, my body rigid on the velvet chair across from him, in a dining room too grand, for a place that had the tag of cruelty as its owner. The chandelier above us shone like crystals, hanging from a ceiling that was designed with carved faces of angels. I snorted. It was ironic, given the devil sitting just three feet away from me. Ethan.
He wore a tailored navy blue suit in leaf green colour, same as the one I was wearing, his hair was combed backward and his smugness basically written on his face.
My dress was pretty, but the thought that Ethan must have seen it in a shop and bought it because he thought I would look good for him, it nearly made me gag. My skin still throbbed from the bath they had given me, and under a
