Sold to the davil

Episode five

Chapter 5 – The Return of Isabella

(POV: Adrian)

The chaos in the ballroom was background noise until it suddenly shifted. It was a small thing at first—a added murmur of voices, a few heads looking toward the doors, the sound of cameras clicking. I didn't even need to look up to know who had arrived.

My mother's voice betrayed me. Too bright. Too enthusiastic. "Adrian, look who's here."

I whirled, drink still in hand. And there she stood. Isabella Moreau.

She floated into the room as if the place belonged to her. Pale blue gown, perfect posture, that same superior curl to her lip I remembered from years before. She hadn't changed. Not truly.

Adrian," she said, brushing aside each of them who tried to greet me along the way. She moved right up to me and bent toward me, as if no years had passed. Her perfume preceded her, sweet and familiar. She pecked my cheek without permission. "You look well. Nearly the same. Stronger, maybe. Sharper."

I did not smile. "Isabella.".

Her eyes swept the features of my face, lingered a moment too long on the scars. She didn't attempt to hide it. Never did.

Then her gaze shifted finally to Elena, who stood half a step behind me. Isabella leaned her head to the side, lips still curved into a smile but her eyes glacial. "So this is her. The fiancée."

Elena smiled graciously and gave her a nod. "Hi there."

Isabella's laugh was short. "Nice? Oh, I'm sure it's nice for you. I didn't know the rumors were true. I thought someone was messing with me. Adrian, engaged? And to…" She trailed her eyes over Elena's dress, her hair, all of it, as if she was describing flaws. "…her."

Elena stiffened but said nothing.

My mom stepped in, laughing like Isabella just hadn't insulted Elena publicly. "Isabella just returned from Paris. She's been traveling and seeing the world and doing all these wonderful things. Let's all sit down and catch up.".

"I didn't come here for chit-chat," Isabella said, still gazing at Elena. "I came because I heard Adrian was wasting his life, and I wanted to see it for myself."

"Elena isn't—"

I began, but Isabella cut me off.

"She isn't me. That's obvious enough." She finally turned to me. "You always did have a thing for strays, Adrian. I thought you'd outgrow it."

My jaw twitched. Elena shifted beside me, and I could feel eyes on us from every direction. Society lapped up this kind of spectacle.

We pushed further in because standing there in the doorway was not an option. People spoke behind each other wherever we went.

"She's back."

"Isabella looks gorgeous."

"She and Adrian did always get along. Perfect couple."

"So who is the girl again? Normal. Temporary."

I heard every word. So did Elena.

I wrapped my arms around her, a hand lightly on her back, but Isabella didn't try to conceal her amusement at the attention. She danced about us, cackling loudly, making sure everyone could hear her little remarks.

"Paris was dull without you, Adrian," she said at one point, swirling champagne. "You would have liked the parties, the travel, the public relations. But perhaps you've just gone… homey." Her eyes darted to Elena as she spoke it.

"I don't care about your opinion," I said icily.

She just smiled wider. "You never did have any fun hiding when something annoyed you. Remember when you used to follow me around like a shadow? You were obsessive."

"I was a teenager," I said. "We all do stupid things."

The smirk flickered for half a second before she hid it again. "Well. You were more amusing back then."

Elena backed away after a moment, claiming to need some air. I let her go, though my eyes followed her until she disappeared down the corridor. Isabella didn't wait an instant to slide in.

"You can't possibly be serious about her," she said, voice dropped low enough now so that I was the only one who could hear. "She's ordinary. She doesn't belong here. Everyone knows it. Your mother knows it. You're making a fool of yourself, Adrian."

"Careful," I told her.

"Careful?" She turned her head. "You don't intimidate me. You never did. You think you can play house with that girl? She'll leave. Or you'll drop her. Either one, this game won't continue."

"I don't owe you an explanation."

"You don't have to explain. I know you." Isabella's eyes locked onto mine, certain, superior. "This won't continue because I'm here again. And you've always belonged to me."

I didn't answer.

Later, after the crowd had dissipated and most of the vultures had left, I headed out to look for Elena. I found her by one of the side passageways, talking to Damian Hayes of all people. He was propped against the wall, getting her to laugh at something. The tableau put my teeth on edge. Damian noticed me before Elena did, nodded curtly, then beat a respectful retreat.

Elena turned around, her grin fading the moment she saw my face. "I was just talking."

"I saw." My tone came out rough by accident. "You shouldn't be wasting your time on him."

"Why not?" She scowled.

"Because I said so."

She didn't say anything, but the obstinate thrust of her jaw spoke volumes.

I couldn't push the matter, though, as Isabella showed up. She acted like Elena wasn't even there.

"Adrian, are you going to the luncheon tomorrow? My parents are inviting me. Everyone will be there. You should come too."

"I have something," I said bluntly.

"With her?" Isabella's gaze briefly moved to Elena, laced with contempt. "Don't make yourself appear any stupider. This. stage will pass. It always does."

Elena looked down, clearly offended. Isabella smiled to herself, satisfied, and strode away as if she'd won a contest.

---

In the evening after that at my apartment, I tried to focus on work but couldn't get the look on Elena's face when Isabella dismissed her out of my mind. She'd closed off during the drive home, not speaking a word.

I poured myself another drink, sat at my desk, and that's when I noticed something sticking out from the bottom drawer. One of the boxes had shifted when I'd slammed the drawer earlier.

I pulled it out. An old photo slipped free and came to rest face-up on the desk.

Me and Isabella. Way back when. Smiling. Before the crash. Before all this.

I looked at it for longer than I should have before shoving it back in.

But when I did, I caught sight of Elena in the doorway. Her gaze had landed on the photograph. She said nothing. She didn't need to. The doubt was written across her face.