CHAPTER 4
1028 Words
Elena sat in Lawrence’s office, arms crossed, staring out the window. The tension between them was unbearable, but he, as usual, acted as if nothing had happened. He was seated at his desk, eyes glued to his laptop, completely ignoring her.
The memory of last night—his kiss, his words—was still fresh in her mind, and no matter how much she wanted to forget, her body refused to.
She let out a sharp breath. "So, we’re just going to pretend nothing happened?"
Lawrence didn’t even glance up. "What do you want me to say?"
Elena clenched her jaw. "Maybe an apology would be nice."
At that, he finally looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. "Apologize? For what?"
She scoffed. "For kissing me like you had every right to!"
Lawrence leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. "You didn’t exactly push me away."
Elena’s cheeks burned with frustration. "You are unbelievable."
Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door.
His secretary, Melissa, stepped in. "Sir, you have a meeting with mr dovana ,ten o’clock meeting."
Lawrence nodded. "Send him in."
Elena took that as her cue to leave. She grabbed her purse and stood. "I’m heading out for a while."
His gaze flickered to her. "Where?"
She shot him an exasperated look. "Does it matter?"
"It does when you’re my wife," he said evenly.
Her grip tightened on her purse. "I’m going to see my mother. Don’t wait up."
She walked out before he could say another word.
---
Her mother’s house was nothing like the cold, grand mansion she shared with Lawrence. It was warm, familiar—a place where she could finally breathe.
The moment she stepped inside, her mother, Margaret, frowned. "You look tired."
Elena forced a smile. "Just a long night."
Margaret didn’t look convinced. She led her to the kitchen, where a pot of tea was already on the stove. As she poured them each a cup, she sighed heavily.
"Elena," she started, her voice hesitant. "I regret ever letting you go through with this marriage."
Elena’s stomach twisted. "Mom—"
"No, listen to me," Margaret said firmly, setting down the cup. "No ,its all my fault,if i haven'tfall ill non of this would have happened"
Elena swallowed hard. She had expected concern but not this—her mother’s regret cutting deeper than she thought possible.
"I know it’s not ideal," she said softly, stirring her tea. "But I can handle it."
Margaret shook her head. "Should you have to? Marriage isn’t supposed to be something you handle, Elena. It’s supposed to make you happy."
Elena wanted to argue, to say that it wasn’t all bad, but the words felt hollow even in her own mind.
Her mother reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "If it ever gets too much, promise me you’ll leave."
Elena hesitated, then nodded. "I promise."
But deep down, she wasn’t sure if it was a promise she could keep.
---
By the time she returned home, it was past ten. She had deliberately taken her time, hoping Lawrence would already be asleep. But the moment she stepped inside, she knew that wasn’t the case.
He was in the living room, standing by the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, but his posture was rigid—like a man waiting.
"You’re late," he said, voice calm but laced with something unreadable.
Elena dropped her purse on the table. "Didn’t know I had a curfew."
Lawrence took a slow sip of his drink, eyes locked on her. "You didn’t answer your phone."
She scoffed. "I was with my mother. Not that it’s any of your business."
His jaw clenched. "Everything about you is my business."
Elena rolled her eyes. "Right. Because you own me now?"
He stepped closer. "I never said that."
"But that’s what you meant," she shot back.
The air between them was thick, charged with something dangerous.
Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between them.
"You love testing me, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Elena tilted her chin up defiantly. "Maybe."
His hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. His touch was warm, lingering. "Careful, Elena."
"Or what?" she whispered.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn’t like the last time—this was slow, deep, deliberate. His lips moved against hers with an intensity that stole her breath. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she melted into him before she could think.
For a moment, she let herself get lost in it.
But then reality crashed down on her.
She shoved him back, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "Stop playing games with me, Lawrence."
His lips curled into a smirk. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you."
Anger flared inside her.
"I hate you," she seethed.
Lawrence’s smirk deepened. "No, you don’t."
She turned sharply, heading upstairs, but his voice stopped her in her tracks.
"This isn’t over, Elena."
She clenched her fists and kept walking, knowing—deep down—that he was right.
Elena stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, pressing her back against it as she tried to steady her breathing.
She hated how easily he got under her skin, How could she let herself get caught up in his games?
With a frustrated sigh, she walked over to the mirror . Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips slightly swollen.
Damn him.
A knock at the door made her tense.
“Elena.” Lawrence’s voice was calm but firm.
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “Go away, Lawrence.”
There was silence for a moment, then, “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she shot back, gripping the edges of the vanity.
“Elena,” his voice was quieter now, almost gentle, “ignoring this won’t change anything.”
She swallowed hard, staring at the door.
Maybe not. But letting him in? That was even more dangerous.
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