The Price of Luxury

Chapter8

The music from the main clubroom thudded heavily through the thick walls of the luxury restroom. Elena stood by the vanity, washing her hands. The door opened, and Juliet hurried in, looking pale. She rushed to the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing it onto her face.

"Jules, what’s wrong?" Elena asked, grabbing a paper towel and handing it to her.

Juliet took it, her hands trembling violently. As she reached up to dry her face, the wide sleeve of her silk blouse slipped down her arm.

Elena gasped.

Around Juliet’s right wrist was a dark, purple ring of bruises with unmistakable finger marks, frozen in a tight grip.

"What is that?" Elena demanded, grabbing Juliet’s arm gently to inspect it. "Juliet, who did that to you?"

Juliet instantly pulled her arm back, tugging the sleeve down fiercely. "Nothing! It’s nothing, Elena. I fell. I told you, I’m clumsy during dance practice."

"Don't lie to me," Elena said, her voice shaking with sudden fury and fear. "Those are finger marks. Did Arthur do that?"

"No! Arthur loves me," Juliet cried out, her eyes wide with panic. She looked at the bathroom stalls, checking whether they were empty. "He just... he gets passionate. He doesn't always know his own strength. It was an accident, El. We were arguing about the guest list, and he grabbed me to get my attention. That’s all."

"That is not 'all,' Juliet! That is assault," Elena hissed, stepping closer. "We need to leave. Right now. Come to my apartment. We can call off the wedding."

"Are you insane?" Juliet whispered, terror distorting her features. "You don't understand. You can't just 'call off' a wedding with Arthur Vance. He owns the hotel. He owns the security company downstairs. He would destroy my family. He would destroy you. Please, Elena, if you love me, forget you saw this. Never mention it again."

The bathroom door swung open, and one of Arthur’s female assistants walked in, her eyes immediately locking onto the two friends. The conversation was over.