ELARA
Elara's eyes pried open, the confusion from a hangover and an unfamiliar ceiling slowly set in. She had flashes of a dimly lit bar, the burn of expensive liquor down her throat, steel-grey eyes, strong hands on her body and her dress being ripped from her body.
Then she scrambled from the bed in panic.
"You're awake. Your clothes are on the floor. I'd advise you to be quick." His voice was calm, low, and utterly devoid of warmth.
Her eyes landed on a figure standing by the window, his back to her. He was already dressed in a flawlessly tailored dark suit.
Her heart rate picked up as she stared cautiously at him. Her hands instinctively tighten around the sheets covering her. "Who…what just..," she clamored for words. "We didn't…, did we?"
He turned to her with frosty eyes and reached into his pocket as he sauntered towards the bed, "Last night was an error in judgment for us both. This should settle it. For your... time."
He placed the check on the bedside table.
Her face flushed bright red. The humiliation burned away the last of her hangover, "Who exactly do you think you are and what exactly do you take me for?"
"That's $10,000," he said coldly, completely ignoring her words. "I don't want to ever see you again."
She not only felt insulted, but discarded and felt like crap. She snatched the check, her hands trembling with pure white-hot rage. Her eyes caught a glimpse of 'K. Vance' on it.
"You must really think that you're something, huh? I don't bloody care about ever seeing you or your goddamn money!"
His gaze was fixed on her as she waved the piece of paper in front of him. "What twisted game are you playing here? You were here for the money weren't you? Take it and get out."
"Your arrogance is indeed something else. Where do you get such a complex from?"
She bit back at him as she shimmied herself back into her dress from last night that was crumpled on the floor.
He stared at her dryly. He was simmering underneath with anger and impatience for her. "Are you going to leave or do I need to call in security to escort you out?"
Livid, she shredded the piece of paper and threw the pieces in his face. Her face was red and her nose flared as she spoke.
"Go to hell. And for the record, you're not that good. The ego, however, is world-class."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He looked at the torn check on the floor as if it was a mildly interesting piece of trash.
His assumption was however confirmed in his mind: She was playing a harder game. She wanted more.
Her phone rang somewhere in the room as she bustled around, trying to find her stuff. It was her father's ringtone.
"Do you need help getting out or you're just stalling?"
"Can you let me gather my stuff, goddamit?!" she hissed in annoyance.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, she thought that that was probably the worst day of her life. The most humiliating moment of her entire life but this, this felt far worse.
Her eyes brimmed with hot angry tears but she tried to keep them at bay.
Kaelan walked to the suite's main door and opened it, holding it for her. The gesture was one of supreme dismissal.
She found her purse that was almost under the bed her ringing inside, non-stop.
His voice, final and absolute, "Get out."
She didn't look at him as she hobbled past, struggling with her shoes. She held her head high, clutching what was left of her dignity as her only shield.
"For the record, you're probably the worst human to ever exist," she yelled over her shoulder.
The door clicked shut behind her with a sound of terrifying finality.
She was not just humiliated by Kaelan; she was even more furious with herself. "One night to forget the betrayal, and you walk into the arms of an even bigger monster."
Then the tears slipped.
Her father's call came in again, only adding to her agitation. It was incessant and aggravating.
"Dad! What the hell? I'm fighting for my life right now!" she said sharply as she tried to fix up her appearance and wipe away the angry tears that were falling continuously.
"Come home. It's about your mom," he said quietly before he cut the call.
She clenched her hands around her phone and took deep breaths to calm herself but it was of no use.
Her heart raced with each step she took. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe as the time ticked.
Anxiety clouded her mind.
Once she got home, she barged into the living room. Her hands trembled slightly at her side.
The house was silent and heavy and her mother, Catherine, was perched on the edge of a silk sofa, a handkerchief twisted in her hands. Her father, Richard, was pacing by the fireplace, his face ashen.
Her footsteps faltered, "I thought you said something was wrong with mom," her cutting remark slicing through the palpable agitation that already hung heavily in the room before her arrival.
"Well, not yet. But something is about to go wrong real soon. Just listen to your father," her mother said in that cold tone like she was addressing a naughty child.
Her father didn't ask if she was okay. His first words were an accusation, "Where in God's name have you been? We have been calling for hours!"
"Dad, I just had really important things to do and I wasn't with my phone," she crossed her arms in front of her defensively.
"Well, if you had taken your calls earlier, things would not have blown out of proportion!" he threw his hands up in the air as his voice rose higher.
She took a step back, her eyes fixated on her father's movements.
"If you had taken my calls, the company would not have been in shabbles. We would have been able to save it somehow. Now I don't know if anything can be done about it," he voice rose impossibly higher.
"You're going to have to be more specific. How did your company go into shambles because I didn't take your calls?" her brows creased as she watched her father's outburst from a safe distance.
Her question seemed to flip a switch inside of him and he instantly became calm.
"I…um," he cleared his throat and glanced at her mother. "We needed you to meet up with someone last night."
"Do I know this someone?" her eyes narrowed.
He scratched his beards out of habit as he took his seat beside his wife, "That is not what is important, El," he muttered.
"So tell me, dad. What is more important?" her lips twitched slightly.
Richard explained the situation of his company to her panicked, grasping terms. "The company... it's on the brink, Elara. One bad investment, and the vultures are circling. I owe some investors some money and I could go to jail if I can't raise the money in two weeks. And you know we need money for your mom's treatment."
As if on cue, Catherine coughed into her handkerchief. She coughed so hard that Elara feared she would cough blood at the spot.
"Our only lifeline is a partnership with the Vance Empire."
He dropped the name like a bomb. "Kaelan Vance."
Elara's blood ran cold. The name rang a bell. She had heard the name so many times in the past but what repulsed her was the tone of her father's voice.
Richard continued, "He's reclusive, ruthless. But he's a man. We need you to... secure his favor." The euphemism was crystal clear and disgusting.
Her mouth fell open and she stared at her father. She stood frozen, stunned to shock.
And when the words finally left her lips, she was a stuttering mess, "Y..you. You mean… you want me to prostitute myself for your company? That's what you called me here for?"
She took a step back, "You blew up my phone last night and this morning, for something like this? How can you even think of something like this? You wanted me to meet Kaelan Vance last night, didn't you?" her voice got increasingly pitchy with each word.
Her mother started to cry, not for Elara, but for their lost status. "Don't be so dramatic, Elara! We're asking you to be charming! To save this family!"
"Mom, you can't keep doing that to me! Throwing me into the arms of other men like I'm nothing to you," she cried.
Richard delivered the killing blow, his eyes hard, "If you can't do this for our family, that little studio of yours, 'Aethel'... it's a nice hobby. But hobbies are expensive. You do this, we keep funding it. You refuse…" He let the threat hang in the air. "You'll be designing for discount stores by next month."
Elara looked at her parents—the people who were supposed to protect her—and saw two strangers willing to auction her off.
She could feel the walls of her world closing in, trapped between parents who saw her as a bargaining chip and the weight of her own emotional crises. A single, furious tear escaped her eye, which she swiftly wiped away.
"How can you even do this to me?" she whispered,
her voice hoarse with betrayal.
"There is no time for this drama, Elara. Are you doing it or not?" Richard asked coldly.