Forbidden Bloodline

Chapter 1: Elara Vance The diamond choker felt like a cold, heavy hand around my throat. I stood before the tall mirror, my fingers trembling as I tried to snap the clasp. The stones were beautiful, but they felt like a collar. Today was my twenty-first birthday. In the world of high society and Manhattan skyscrapers, this was the day I supposedly became a woman. To Julian Cross, it was simply the day his most prized possession reached maturity. I heard the heavy thud of his boots on the hardwood floor. He didn't knock. Julian never knocked. He stepped into the room, his presence sucking the oxygen out of the space. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that cost more than a surgeon’s yearly salary. He didn't look at my face. He looked at the reflection of my neck in the mirror. "You are struggling with the gift I gave you, Elara," he said. His voice was a low, dark rumble that vibrated in my very bones. "It’s too tight, Julian," I whispered. My pulse thrummed against the diamonds. "I can barely breathe." He stepped closer. I could smell him….sandalwood, expensive scotch, and something metallic. He reached out, his large, calloused hands replacing mine at the back of my neck. His touch was electric. It was a heat that made me want to lean back into him and run away at the same time. This was the man who had raised me since I was ten. This was the man the world called my father. But the way he looked at me in the mirror wasn't fatherly. It was predatory. "Growth is often uncomfortable," Julian murmured. He snapped the clasp shut with a clinical click. "But you must get used to the weight. Today, you are no longer a child. Today, you represent the Cross name." I turned around to face him, my heart hammering against my ribs. "And what if I don’t want the name? What if I want to leave this house? You promised me that when I turned twenty-one, I could choose my own path." Julian’s eyes darkened, turning from a deep brown to a shade that resembled midnight. He stepped into my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him. He was a giant of a man, built of muscle and secrets. "You are mine to protect, Elara. The world outside these walls is a graveyard of girls who thought they were ready. You stay because I say you stay." "You’re a tyrant," I snapped. My voice shook with a mix of anger and an attraction I hated myself for feeling. "Every gift is a cage. Every dress is a uniform. Do you even love me, or do you just like owning me?" Julian’s expression didn't change, but I saw a muscle jump in his jaw. He reached out, his thumb tracing my lower lip. The contact sent a jolt of pure fire through my body. "Love is a word for weak men, Elara. I will provide for you. I will keep you safe. I have kept the wolves away from your door for eleven years. Is that not enough?" "It’s not enough when you are the biggest wolf of all," I replied. He leaned down, his lips inches from my ear. "Be careful, little bird. If I were a wolf, I would have swallowed you whole a long time ago." He pulled away and checked his watch…a gold Patek Philippe. "The guests are arriving. You will come downstairs. You will smile. You will act the part of the dutiful daughter." He turned to leave, but as he reached the door, he stopped. He adjusted his cufflink, and my breath hitched. There was a dark, wet smudge on the white fabric of his shirt sleeve. It was fresh blood. "Julian," I called out, my voice small. "Your sleeve." You’re bleeding." He glanced down at the red stain. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look pained. He simply folded the cuff back to hide it. "It isn't my blood, Elara. Don't keep the guests waiting." He left, and the silence he left behind was deafening. My mind raced. Julian was a business person, a mogul of industry. Why was he coming into my bedroom with blood on his hands? I looked at the vanity chair where my silk robe lay. Something caught my eye. A small piece of black tape was stuck to the underside of the chair’s armrest. I knelt on the floor, my heart racing. I peeled the tape back. Attached to it was a tiny, high-capacity micro-SD card. My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't here this morning. I looked at the door, making sure it was locked. I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and inserted the card. The screen flickered to life. It was a video file. I clicked play. The image was grainy and shaky. It was a woman sitting in a dark room. My breath escaped me in a sob. It was my mother. She looked terrified. Her hair was matted, and her eyes were red from crying. This was filmed in Julian’s private library…I recognized the rare leather-bound books on the shelves behind her. "Elara," she whispered into the camera. "If you are watching this, it means I am gone, and he has succeeded. He didn't save you from the accident, my love. He caused it. Do not trust the blood. The blood is a lie. He is not…" The video cuts to static. My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the computer. Julian had told me my mother died in a hit-and-run while he was trying to rescue us. He told me he was the long-lost father she had been running from. He told me he took me in to give me the life I deserved. The blood is a lie. I felt a cold chill wash over me. If he wasn't my father, then every touch, every look, and every moment of the last eleven years was a lie. He wasn't a savior. He was a kidnapper. I heard the music starting downstairs…a string quartet playing a haunting, classical melody. I had to go down there. I had to pretend I knew nothing. I hid the micro-SD card inside the hollow heel of my evening shoe and stood up. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. The girl looking back looked like a princess, but I felt like a soldier behind enemy lines. I walked down the grand marble staircase. The ballroom was filled with the elite of New York. Men in tuxedos and women in gowns that cost thousands of dollars. Julian stood at the center of the room, a glass of scotch in his hand. He looked like a king. Silas Vane, the son of Julian’s biggest rival, approached me. He was handsome in a conventional way, with blonde hair and a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. "Happy birthday, Elara," Silas said. His grip was a little too tight. "You look breathtaking. Almost too beautiful for this room." "Thank you, Silas," I said, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your father has many secrets, Elara. Some are buried in the East River. Some are sitting right here in a Dior dress." I stiffened. "What are you talking about?" "Just a warning," Silas said, his eyes darting towards Julian, who was watching us from across the room. "The Cross empire is built on a foundation of bones. Be careful you don't become one of them." Julian began to walk toward us. His gaze was fixed on Silas’s hand, which was still holding mine. The surrounding air seemed to turn to ice. "Silas," Julian said, his voice a low threat. "I believe your father is looking for you." Silas gave a mock bow and disappeared into the crowd. Julian stood in front of me, his presence overwhelming. He took the hand Silas had just held and rubbed his thumb over my skin as if he were erasing the other man’s touch. "What did he say to you?" Julian asked. "Nothing," I lied. "He was just wishing me a happy birthday." Julian leaned down, his eyes searching for mine. He knew I was lying. He always knew. "You are a terrible liar, Elara. Your pulse is racing. Your skin is cold." "Maybe I’m just tired of the cameras and the people," I said, trying to pull my hand away. He wouldn't let go. "The night is just beginning," Julian said. He signaled to the waiter for two glasses of champagne. He handed one to me. "A toast. To the future. To the legacy we will build together." I looked at the golden bubbles in the glass. I thought of the blood on his cuff. I thought of my mother’s terrified face on the video. I raised the glass to my lips, but I didn't drink. "Julian," I said, my voice steadying. "Why do you keep the library locked?" The question hung in the air like a guillotine. Julian’s eyes turned stone-cold. The hand on my waist tightened until it hurt. He didn't answer immediately. He took a slow sip of his scotch, his gaze never leaving mine. "Some rooms are locked for a reason, Elara," he finally said. "To keep the shadows in. Or to keep the light out." He pulled me closer, his body hard against mine. "Do not go looking for keys you aren't ready to use." Before I could respond, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom burst open. A man in a disheveled suit ran in, gasping for breath. He looked terrified. He ran straight toward Julian. "Mr. Cross!" the man yelled. "The shipment... it’s been intercepted. They found the red file." The room went silent. Julian didn't flinch. He simply set his glass down on a passing waiter’s tray. He looked at the man, then at me. A dark, knowing smile touched his lips. "It seems the party is over," Julian said. He grabbed my arm with a grip of an iron. "We’re leaving. Now." "Where are we going?" I demanded, stumbling as he dragged me toward the side exit. He didn't look back. He pulled me into the dark hallway, away from the guests and the lights. He pushed me against the wall, his body pinning me in place. The hallway was shadowed, the only light coming from the moon outside the high windows. "You wanted to know about the library," Julian whispered, his face inches from mine. "You wanted to know about the secrets." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy brass key. He pressed it into my palm, closing my fingers over it. His hand stayed over mine, squeezing tightly. "Go to the library, Elara. See what you find. But remember this…once you open that door, you can never go back to being my daughter."