Revenge Affair

Taking Space

Elara woke to the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon. Sunlight slanted through the bedroom blinds in warm golden stripes, but it did nothing to thaw the cold knot sitting behind her ribs. Alex stood at the foot of the bed holding a tray loaded with scrambled eggs, toast with jam, a small white rose in a vase, and her favorite mug filled nearly to the brim. He wore that hopeful smile, the one that used to melt every reservation she had in seconds.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said softly as he set the tray on the nightstand. “I thought we could start fresh today. Breakfast in bed, no phones, no work, just us.”

She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around her body. The engagement ring caught the light and felt heavier than it had the day before. “Alex…”

“I know I messed up. Badly.” He sat carefully on the edge of the mattress, giving her space. “But I meant every word last night. I want to fix this, starting right now.”

Elara looked at the tray, then at him. His eyes were earnest, almost desperate. Part of her still wanted to believe him and slip back into the easy rhythm they had built over three years. The other part kept replaying the emails, the photos, and the way her stomach had dropped when she saw Mia’s name lighting up his screen again and again.

She reached for the coffee. “Okay. Breakfast.”

He grinned like she had handed him a lifeline. While she ate, he talked lightly about the weather, a funny story from yesterday’s investor call, and how proud he was of her latest project. Normal. Safe. But every time he reached for her hand she felt the ghost of Damian’s touch overlay it—firmer, hungrier, more certain.

After the plates were cleared, Alex leaned in. His lips brushed her temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “I missed this,” he murmured. “Missed you.”

Elara closed her eyes and let him kiss her properly. His hands slid under the sheet to find her waist. Familiar. Comforting. His mouth moved down her neck the way he knew she liked. She tried to sink into it and let muscle memory take over.

He tugged the sheet lower, exposing her breasts. His thumbs circled her n*****s gently at first, then with more pressure until they peaked under his touch. Elara’s breath hitched as he took one into his mouth, tongue flicking and sucking softly. Heat pooled low in her belly despite everything. His hand drifted down, slipping between her thighs and stroking through the lace of her panties.

She arched slightly, a small sound escaping. For a moment it felt good enough to pretend nothing had changed. Then his phone buzzed on the dresser. Once. Twice.

Alex froze.

Elara opened her eyes. “Ignore it.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the sound. “It might be important.”

“Alex.”

He exhaled, kissed her forehead, and reached for the phone anyway. “Just a second, babe. Promise.”

She watched him read the screen. His expression tightened for a split second before he forced a smile. “Nothing. Work stuff.” He silenced it and set it face-down.

The mood had already cracked. When he tried to pick up where he left off, sliding her panties aside and circling her c**t with practiced strokes, Elara’s body responded—wet and aching—but her mind drifted. She pictured Damian’s mouth there instead, slow and relentless, drawing out pleasure until she shattered. The contrast made her stomach twist.

She caught Alex’s wrist. “Stop.”

He pulled back immediately, concern etching his features. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” she said, sitting up and pulling the sheet to her chest. “Not yet. Not like this.”

His jaw clenched. “Is it still me? The things I did? Or is something else going on? You feel different, Elara. Like part of you is somewhere else.”

The question landed softly, but it stung. No name, no accusation—just raw insecurity. She could see the fear in his eyes and the way he was grasping for reassurance while knowing he had already broken so much trust.

She swallowed. The truth burned on her tongue—whiskey, a bar, a stranger’s apartment, skin against skin until dawn—but she couldn’t say it. Not yet. “I just need time, Alex. That’s all.”

He nodded, though the hurt in his eyes was real. “Okay. Time. I can give you that.”

He kissed her forehead again, softer this time, and left the room to shower. Elara stayed in bed staring at the ceiling, guilt and anger tangled so tightly she couldn’t tell them apart.

At Voss Visions the energy was electric. The startup client had requested an urgent review of the latest renders, and Elara had spent half the night tweaking them after the confrontation with Alex. She arrived early, hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, wearing a tailored emerald blazer that made her feel like armor.

The conference room filled quickly. Jake set up the projector while Sarah arranged mood boards on easels. Lila leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, watching Elara with a knowing look.

“You good?” Lila asked quietly.

“Define good.”

Lila snorted. “At least you look like a boss b***h today.”

The CEO and two VPs joined via video link. Elara took a breath and launched in.

“Today’s focus is the atrium and collaboration zones,” she began, clicking to the first render. “We’ve incorporated biophilic design principles throughout—living green walls that filter air and reduce stress, modular seating pods with acoustic privacy, and dynamic LED lighting that mimics natural daylight cycles.”

The CEO leaned forward. “Love the waterfall feature in the lobby. Can we scale it up and make it a central sculptural element?”

“Absolutely. We can integrate recessed LED strips behind the falling water for nighttime ambiance so it becomes both functional and iconic.”

Questions flew about budget concerns, timeline adjustments, and sustainability certifications. Elara answered each one smoothly, pulling data from her notes and suggesting alternatives when needed. By the end of the hour the client was beaming.

“This is exactly the vision we had,” the CEO said. “We’re green-lighting phase two immediately. And Elara, we’d like to feature Voss Visions in an upcoming Tech Design Quarterly spread. Full photo shoot, interview, the works.”

The room erupted in quiet cheers from her team. Elara smiled, genuine this time. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

After the call ended, Jake high-fived her and Sarah hugged her impulsively. “You crushed it, boss.”

For the first time in days, Elara felt solid. Her work hadn’t betrayed her. Her talent hadn’t lied. This, at least, was still hers.

Lila waited until the room cleared before cornering her. “Okay, spill. You look like you’re running on fumes and spite. What happened after the grovel fest?”

They retreated to Elara’s office and closed the door. Lila poured two coffees from the machine in the corner.

Elara sank into her chair with a tired sigh. “Breakfast in bed, attempted makeup s*x, then his phone interrupted us again. Same old song.”

Lila’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re telling me he still can’t keep it in his pants for one single morning?”

“Not even that,” Elara said, rubbing her temples. “It’s the pattern more than anything. The constant secrecy, the way he always chooses whatever’s on that screen over being present with me. I stopped him halfway through. I just couldn’t fake it.”

“Good for you,” Lila said firmly as she perched on the edge of the drafting table. “You don’t owe him some kind of performance art, especially not after everything he pulled. You get to decide when and if you ever want to go there again.”

Elara rubbed her temples. “I know. But part of me still loves him, or at least loved who I thought he was.”

Lila’s voice softened. “That’s normal. Three years isn’t nothing. But love shouldn’t feel like walking on eggshells every single day.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Then Lila pulled out her phone with a sly look. “Speaking of not walking on eggshells, I did some light stalking last night.”

Elara’s stomach flipped. “Lila.”

“Don’t ‘Lila’ me. You gave me a name—Damian Black, artist. I googled.” She turned the screen toward Elara. “Feast your eyes.”

The first image showed a gallery opening: Damian in a black button-down with sleeves rolled, standing beside a massive canvas of churning midnight blues and violent golds. He looked every bit as intense as she remembered.

The next photo showed him at an auction, arms crossed, profile sharp against the spotlights. A headline underneath read Billionaire Artist Damian Black Sells Record-Breaking Abstract for Eight Figures.

Elara blinked. “Billionaire?”

“Old money from investments, new money from art. He owns galleries in Chelsea, Miami, and Paris. Divorced a few years back—messy. His ex ran off with his former partner. Sound familiar?”

“Too familiar.”

Lila scrolled to a more recent shot: Damian on a beach at sunset, shirtless, paintbrush in hand, waves crashing behind him. The tattoo on his shoulder gleamed—swirling waves, just as she remembered.

“He texted you this morning,” Lila said. “I saw the notification when you left your phone on the desk.”

Elara flushed. “He did. He asked how I was holding up.”

“And you replied?”

“‘Surviving. Coffee soon?’”

Lila grinned. “That’s my girl. Now listen. You need real space, not just a night on the couch. Book a weekend somewhere with ocean, spa, no Alex, and no drama so you can finally clear your head.”

Elara leaned back in her chair. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not? Your team has the startup project humming along, and you just locked in a magazine feature. You deserve a breather.”

The idea took root slowly. Salt air. Crashing waves. No buzzing phones. No pleading eyes.

“Where?” she asked.

Lila was already typing. “Montauk has some gorgeous spots. Gurney’s Resort is oceanfront with a spa and super private. Or there’s Shou Sugi Ban House in the Hamptons—wellness-focused, Japanese-inspired, all about reflection and renewal. Perfect for a betrayed queen to reset.”

Elara stared at the screen Lila shoved under her nose. Images of serene suites with floor-to-ceiling windows, private decks overlooking the Atlantic, and infinity pools blending into the horizon filled the display. It looked like peace.

“I could say it’s for inspiration,” she murmured. “Research for a potential coastal client.”

“Exactly. Work-related. Totally legit.”

Elara’s finger hovered over the booking link as her heart pounded. “I’d be gone three days. Maybe four.”

“Even better.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she clicked. She selected the dates for the following weekend, entered her card, and watched the confirmation email ping almost instantly.

“Done,” she whispered.

Lila whooped quietly. “That’s my girl. Now text the hot artist and tell him you’re going radio silent for a bit. Let him stew in anticipation.”

Elara laughed despite herself and pulled out her phone. Damian’s last message still glowed: Thinking of you. Hope you’re okay.

She typed: Rough week, but I just booked a solo getaway. Montauk. Need to breathe. Talk when I’m back?

His reply came almost immediately: Good call. Ocean has a way of washing things clean. Safe travels, Elara. I’ll be here.

A small, secret smile curved her lips as she locked the screen.

For the first time in days, the future didn’t feel quite so heavy.