Chapter 7: The Ex Factor
1240 Words
The following morning, Elara woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and the murmur of voices echoing through the penthouse. She frowned, dragging herself out of bed. Her head was still a swirl of thoughts from the night before—Lucien’s touch, his words, and that kiss that still tingled on her lips.
She stepped into the hallway, barefoot and in her silk robe, just as a woman’s sharp laughter floated from the living room.
Elara froze.
A tall, stunning blonde stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a designer handbag and wearing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked expensive, perfectly composed, and completely at home.
Lucien stood with his back to Elara, speaking in a low tone. He didn’t notice her at first.
“Oh,” the blonde said suddenly, her eyes finding Elara. “There she is. You didn’t tell me your fiancée was this adorable, Lucien.”
Elara’s stomach twisted.
Lucien turned, his expression unreadable. “Elara. This is Vanessa Laurent. She’s… an old friend.”
Old friend. Elara didn’t miss the hesitation.
Vanessa extended a perfectly manicured hand. “We’ve met before. Briefly. At one of Lucien’s New Year’s parties—though you probably don’t remember. You looked overwhelmed.”
Elara ignored the jab and shook her hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“I heard the news,” Vanessa said, gesturing between the two of them. “Engaged? That was fast.”
Lucien’s jaw tensed. “What are you doing here, Vanessa?”
“I stopped by to drop off some documents from the Laurent-Bell deal,” she said, waving a slim folder. “Your assistant said I could wait.”
Elara arched a brow. “So you’re working together?”
Vanessa’s lips curled. “Sometimes. Our families have been tied up in each other’s business for years. It’s hard to avoid.”
That was an understatement. The Laurents and the Blackwells were once considered a power duo—socially, financially, and, rumor had it, romantically. Elara remembered reading articles about Lucien and Vanessa as the golden couple years ago.
“I’m sure you have what you need,” Lucien said coolly. “I’ll have legal follow up by this afternoon.”
Vanessa pouted, ignoring his dismissal. “I’ll be in the city for the next week, Lucien. We should catch up—like old times. Maybe dinner?”
Lucien didn’t answer right away, and the silence spoke volumes.
“I’ll check your schedule,” Vanessa added with a wink before walking toward the elevator. She paused beside Elara. “Good luck, sweetheart. You’re going to need it.”
The doors slid shut behind her.
Elara turned to Lucien. “So that’s the infamous Vanessa Laurent.”
“She’s irrelevant,” he replied flatly.
“She didn’t seem irrelevant. She seemed like someone who’s used to being in your life. Intimately.”
Lucien didn’t flinch. “She was part of the past. That’s all.”
Elara crossed her arms. “Does she know that?”
“She does now.”
He started to walk away, but she followed him to the kitchen. “You should’ve warned me.”
“I didn’t know she’d show up unannounced.”
“You don’t think this kind of thing matters? If we’re supposed to be a team, Lucien, I need to know who’s playing on the field.”
Lucien turned to her slowly, leaning against the counter. “Are you jealous?”
She blinked. “That’s not—”
“Because if you are, that wasn’t in the contract.”
Elara’s face flushed. “This isn’t about jealousy. It’s about control. You get to plan every second of my day, dictate my wardrobe, my words—and yet someone from your past can walk in and throw me off balance without warning?”
Lucien’s gaze softened ever so slightly. “You’re right.”
That surprised her.
“I should’ve handled it better,” he added.
A silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint hiss of the espresso machine. Elara broke it with a sigh.
“She looked at me like I was temporary.”
Lucien’s eyes met hers, something unspoken in their depths. “Because she thinks everyone in my life is temporary. That’s how I’ve trained people to see me.”
“And is she wrong?”
He didn’t answer.
Elara stepped back. “I have a meeting in thirty minutes with your PR team. I suggest we both stay on script today.”
She turned and walked away, head high, but her heart thudding heavily.
---
That afternoon, Elara sat in the PR conference room surrounded by stylists, photographers, and Lucien’s branding consultant—a sharp woman named Miranda, who wore red lipstick like armor and spoke like she was running a political campaign.
“Your image is improving steadily,” Miranda said. “The public likes you. Your relatability offsets Lucien’s… severity.”
“Nice way to call him cold,” Elara muttered.
Miranda smirked. “You’re not wrong. But now we need the next phase—showing your emotional bond. Real or not, it needs to feel authentic.”
“How do we do that?”
“Weekend trip,” Miranda said, clicking her pen. “The press is watching. A private getaway will generate buzz and sell the romance. We’ve arranged everything—a cozy ski resort in Vermont, paparazzi-friendly but remote enough for privacy.”
Elara raised an eyebrow. “You’re sending us on a fake honeymoon?”
“Call it a test drive.”
Lucien entered the room just then, having overheard the last part.
“Miranda, we’re not staging a honeymoon. That’s not part of the timeline.”
Miranda folded her arms. “It’s necessary. The market is responding. Shares are up five percent. People love the story. They want more.”
Lucien glanced at Elara. “Do you want to go?”
She hesitated.
Did she want to spend a weekend in a secluded cabin with the man who kissed her like it meant everything, then acted like it meant nothing?
Yes. No. Maybe.
But this wasn’t about feelings. This was business.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
Miranda beamed. “Great. You leave Friday.”
Lucien looked at Elara again, his eyes unreadable. “Pack warm.”
---
Later that night, Elara stood on the balcony of the penthouse, watching the city lights twinkle below. The wind tangled her hair, and she hugged her sweater tighter around her.
She didn’t hear Lucien approach until he spoke.
“She’s not a threat.”
Elara didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Maybe not to you.”
He stepped beside her, hands in his pockets. “She was never what people thought she was. We were young. Our parents wanted it more than we did. And when it ended, I told myself I’d never let anyone close again.”
“And then you picked me to play the part.”
He nodded once. “I didn’t expect you to… complicate things.”
Elara turned to him. “I didn’t expect to feel anything.”
They stood in silence.
Then Lucien said quietly, “Let’s go to Vermont. Not for the cameras. Not for the investors. Just… for us.”
Elara’s breath caught. “Is that allowed?”
He looked at her, really looked. “I’m the CEO. I make the rules.”
- Writer
