CHAPTER THREE
705 Words
The grand ballroom of the Templeton estate glittered with chandeliers and the laughter of the city’s elite. Elena stood by Alexander’s side, her hand resting lightly on his arm, as they played their roles as the perfect power couple. She smiled when expected, nodded politely at the compliments, and kept her eyes fixed forward even when the whispers reached her ears.
“She’s beautiful, but he never looks at her.”
“Did you see him arrive with Stephanie?”
“Poor thing. All money, no love.”
Elena’s smile never wavered, but inside, her heart shrank.
Alexander leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. “Try to smile wider,” he murmured coldly. “You’re making me look bad.”
Her lips curved higher, though her chest ached.
And then, as if to twist the knife, Stephanie Lane appeared. Dressed in scarlet silk that clung to every curve, she made her way across the room with the confidence of a woman who knew she was desired. She kissed Alexander’s cheek — lingering, bold, shameless — and whispered something that made him chuckle.
The sound of his laughter, so rare in their marriage, felt like a blade. It wasn’t for her. It never was.
Elena excused herself, retreating into the quiet hallways. Her heels clicked softly against the marble as she walked, her breath uneven, her hands trembling as she clutched her gown. She had long ago stopped expecting Alexander’s love, but the humiliation never dulled.
The gardens called to her. The cool night air, the hush of rustling leaves — it was the only place she could breathe. She pushed open the glass doors and stepped outside, the silence wrapping around her like a balm.
She wasn’t alone.
Colin was there, trimming lanterns near the path. His shirt was rolled at the sleeves, exposing strong forearms, his hands steady as he worked. When he noticed her, he set the clippers aside and straightened.
“Evening, Elena,” he said gently, her name carrying that same warmth that had haunted her since their first exchange.
She should have walked past him. Should have nodded politely and retreated. But instead, she paused.
“I just needed some air,” she whispered, her voice softer than the breeze.
He studied her for a moment, his green eyes sharp and unyielding. “You don’t look like someone who’s been enjoying herself in there.”
The honesty of his words startled her. No one in her world ever spoke plainly. Not Alexander, not his friends, not even her own parents. But Colin looked at her as if he had peeled back every layer of pretense and seen straight to the truth.
A lump formed in her throat. “I suppose I haven’t.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with something unspoken. His gaze lingered on her face, tracing the lines of weariness she usually hid so well. And for a moment, Elena forgot she was the wife of one of the most powerful men in the city. She was just a woman, standing in the dark, desperate to be seen.
“Mrs. Templeton,” he said finally, his voice low.
“Elena,” she corrected softly.
His lips curved, slow and deliberate. “Elena,” he repeated, and the sound of it was like fire in her veins.
She turned quickly, her heart pounding. “I should go back.”
But she didn’t move. Neither did he. Their bodies stood a breath apart, the night pressing them closer. She could feel the heat radiating from him, could smell the faint scent of earth and soap clinging to his skin. Her hands trembled at her sides with the urge to reach out, to touch, to shatter the distance.
Instead, she stepped back, retreating into the safety of duty. “Goodnight, Colin.”
His gaze followed her as she left, heavy and knowing.
That night, Elena lay awake again, staring into the darkness. Her husband’s laughter with Stephanie echoed in her mind, sharp and cruel. But louder still was the memory of Colin’s voice, the way her name had sounded on his lips.
And for the first time, she admitted the truth she had been fighting to bury.
She wanted him.
- Writer
