THE GRAVITY OF US

BENEATH THE SURFACE

Chapter Three

Elowen was all negativity at the family dinner she attended—power disguised as elegance; cunning manipulation generated by the charm. A crystal chandelier beamed down on the rooftop hall, which was reputed to be Barcelona’s oldest, and the mere sounds of laughter collided against the expensive wine glasses. Marcus immersed in that palatial atmosphere of luxury and pleasure.Everybody listened with a smile, while he at the head of the table was speaking funny stories, his captivating personality pulled the audience to give him all the necessary reactions. For everyone in the room, Marcus Hart was the star, but for Elowen, it was the opposite; he was like a monster crushing her under his tremendous weight. And on the other side, she saw Rhys Moretti, who could be used as an example of how one can look everywhere, in the dark suit, calm, but lethal, a storm confined. He hardly said a word during the dinner, yet a single glance from him would raise her heartbeat. Elowen talked to herself that she would let that pass. She had come only for representing the gallery. No more, no less. But the tension in the table was visible Marcus’s sarcastic comments about some businessmen who are brave enough to climb to the top without mercy, his dark fist Rhys, with his own words choosing to be silent.The still was more than what any quarrel could say.Dinner over, the optioined wine flowed to the terrace where people congregated to enjoy the view of Barcelona burgeoning in the night. Elowen also slipped there, the soft night breeze folded on her bare shoulders, but her wine glass, trembling slightly in the hand still made the sound like she was the one who walked away from the scene. It was absurd that he was going to follow her there as well."You always did prefer the quiet after the storm," he said from behind her with a low smooth calmness."You always did prefer making storms," she answered with fire in her words. He moved closer, the night swallowing the distance between them. "Why are you protecting him still?"She blinked. "Marcus?"His attention got narrower. "He’s toxic. He was the one who destroyed us. But you have been there for him like a trustworthy sister."Her back was straightened. "You talk about my loyalty—you are the one who..." "What? What did I do?" His voice broke. "When I asked you to believe me and you didn't? When I needed you to fight for us to be together and you didn't do anything? He sounded so raw and hurt."The tightness in her chest, her breath halted, the wine glass was vibrating in her grip. "I don’t manipulate things. I got the facts. The banks. The withdrawals. Marcus showed me—""Marcus didn’t want you to see anything but the picture he had for you!" His palm hit the rail she was leaning against and without touching her he created a prison for her. His eyes locked with hers as though angry, joyful at the same time, tempest, and fire. "And you chose to believe him instead of me."The stinging words brought back the pain she had long thought healed. For a while, they were both silent, the city far below like a sea of glimmering stars."I want you; I despise you." The beat of her heart weakened. "I hate you." Then the moment came when his fingers moved almost without thought and a stray hair was brushed back by his hand. She felt him lingering, the calloused hand touching her soft silky hair, and she inhaled deeply and spoke with a shaky breath."Rhys..." she said half in a warning and half in pleading."No," she gasped shaking her head. "I won't allow you to make me feel like before again."Rhys unleashed a sound that was not quite a laugh, full of rage, and need. There was a moment he looked as though he would pull her back to his orbit. Then he stepped back, emotion concealed behind his mask. "You are right," he said with a coldness that made her shiver. "You won't let me. You will let Marcus."The name rang like a stinger."You don't understand," she asked with her voice trembling. "I understand perfectly," Rhys replied, his icy tone gave her chills. "You chose him once. You will choose him again."It was only then that Marcus slipped into her sight.Seeing him, as always, he was in a black suit with a long glass filled with wine and he stared at them with a smile that couldn't reach his eyes. Elowen froze for a moment. Had he been listening to their conversation? How much did he hear?Rhys glanced at Marcus but then he came back to her and his face was etched with a terrible resolve that made her feel like the entire atmosphere was getting heavier. The tempest was not finished. It was only building up.Marcus raised his glass toward them like he was making a mock toast, smiles were nowhere near to be found no matter how much he tried to mask it. "To old flames," he said with a smooth tone, before he could disappear back into the house. Elowen's heart sank. There was nothing about this evening that felt concluded.