The study smelled of expensive cedar and the sharp, medicinal sting of over-poured bourbon. It was a smell that had become the scent of Elara's marriage-bitter and intoxicating.
Five weeks.
Five weeks since the dirt had hit Sofia's casket. Five weeks since Elara had traded her freedom for a wedding band that felt like a handcuff.
Elara stood in the doorway, her fingers curled tightly into the silk of her black dress. She wore black every day now. Not just for Sofia, but for herself. She was mourning the girl she used to be-the one who had secretly loved Adriano Marcello from afar, thinking he was a dark prince. Now she knew the truth: he was just a monster in a tailored suit.
The crystal tumbler hit the mahogany desk with a crack that sounded like a gunshot. Elara flinched, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Get out."
The growl was low, vibrating through the floorboards. Elara didn't move. She couldn't. Her legs felt like lead, her gaze fixed on the man who was now her husband. He was beautiful in his rage-disheveled, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair a mess. But his eyes were cold. They were the eyes of a man who had left his soul at a graveside.
Adriano's gaze drifted to the silver-framed photo on his desk. Sofia. She was radiant, wearing a red dress that matched the fire in her spirit.
"You know what I think about? Every time I look at you?" Adriano rose, his movements slow and predatory. Elara took a step back, her back hitting the cold doorframe. The satisfaction in his eyes as he saw her fear was a knife to her gut. "I think about how it should have been you in that coffin. How it should be Sofia standing here, wearing my ring, building our future."
Every word was a drop of venom. Elara opened her mouth to speak-to tell him again that the truck had come out of nowhere, that she had tried to swerve-but the words died in her throat. She had been the one driving. That was the only fact that mattered to him.
Adriano crossed the room, the scent of his cologne-sandalwood and spice-wrapping around her. It was the scent she used to dream about. Now, it made her feel like she was suffocating.
"You were always the family disappointment, weren't you?" He laughed, a hollow, jagged sound. "The wild child. The fuckup. Sofia spent her whole life cleaning up your messes, and how did you repay her? You got drunk and you killed the most beautiful soul in this godforsaken world!"
The silence in the room was deafening. Elara took the hits, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She wouldn't defend herself. How could she? She loved him, and she loved Sofia, and the weight of those two loves was crushing her into the floor.
"What's wrong, Elara? Nothing to say?"
Suddenly, his hand shot out. His fingers gripped her jaw, forcing her head back. His touch was electric and agonizing all at once. He forced her to look at him, to see the pure, unadulterated loathing in his dark eyes.
"You had plenty to say that night, didn't you? 'Let me drive, Sofi! I'm fine, Sofi!' Tell me, was it worth it? Was that last drink worth her life?"
He leaned in closer, his lips inches from hers-a cruel parody of the kiss she had spent years imagining.
"You want to know what your sister told me the night before?" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "She was worried about you. Always worried about her baby sister. She told me she wanted us all to be a family."
His grip tightened, his thumb bruising the sensitive skin of her jaw. "Well, congratulations, cara. We're family now. And I promise you, every day of this marriage, every breath you take that should have been hers-I'll make you wish it was you in that accident. I'll make you wish you never survived."
He released her roughly, shoving her away as if she were something diseased. He turned back to his desk, back to the whiskey, and back to the ghost of the woman he actually wanted.
"God, I can't even look at you! Now get out of my sight before I forget I promised your father to keep you alive."
Elara didn't wait for a second command. She turned and fled into the dark hallway, the weight of the ring on her finger feeling heavier than the world.