Chapter 9
838words
Three days after the wedding, we flew to my family’s estate in Italy.
My parents adored Julian.
"Julian is such a good boy," my mother said, holding my hand. "So much better than that man who wouldn't even tell people about you."
My father nodded. "The Morettis raised him right. Look how much of a gentleman he is."
At dinner, Julian poured my wine and peeled my shrimp. Every move was graceful and considerate.
A sharp contrast to Damien.
Damien would never take care of me in public. He wouldn't even admit we were together.
"So, Elara," my mother asked suddenly, "When are you giving us a grandchild?"
I nearly choked on my wine.
Julian calmly patted my back. "We're working on it, Ma'am."
His answer made my parents even happier.
"That's right! Have a few while you're young," my father boomed. "The Moretti bloodline and the Rossi genes. The kids will be exceptional."
My face got hotter and hotter.
"I'm going to get some air," I said, standing up. "You guys talk."
Julian looked at me, concerned. "Want me to come with you?"
"No, I'll be right back."
The garden was quiet. Moonlight fell on the stone path.
I took a deep breath, trying to enjoy the peace.
"Elara."
A familiar voice came from the shadows.
I spun around. Damien stepped out from behind a rose bush.
He looked like hell. I barely recognized him.
Unshaven, eyes bloodshot, his suit a wrinkled mess.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, shocked.
He hated Italy. It was where Isabella’s family broke off their engagement and exiled her from his life.
"I've been looking for you for three days," his voice was hoarse. "Chicago, New York, and now here."
He took a step closer. I took one back.
"Elara, I was wrong," he said, his eyes filled with desperation. "I was so wrong. Come back. Come back with me."
"Are you insane?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Damien, you're married."
"I can get a divorce," he said quickly. "If you come back, I'll divorce Isabella right now."
I held up my left hand. My wedding ring shone in the moonlight.
"I'm married, too."
"So what?" His eyes flashed with that familiar madness. "You can get a divorce. We can start over."
"Start what over?" I scoffed. "Go back to being your secret? Your girl in the shadows?"
"No," Damien rushed to explain. "It'll be different this time. I'll marry you. I'll give you my name..."
"Your name?" I cut him off. "Damien, do you really think that's what I cared about?"
He froze.
"In four years, I never asked for your name," I said calmly. "All I ever asked for was basic respect."
"I respected you—"
"You respected me?" My voice turned to ice. "The day Isabella came back, what did you say to me? I’m not your whore anymore, so what gives you the right to keep chasing me?"
Damien's face went white.
"What am I to you?" I advanced on him. "A collectible you pull off the shelf when you're bored? A pretty little doctor you can screw whenever you want?"
"No, Elara, I love you..."
"Love me?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Damien, do you even know what love is?"
He just stood there, speechless.
"Love is respect. It's protection. It's putting someone first," I said, my voice flat. "It's not ignoring her when she's hurt. It's not humiliating her in front of another woman. And it's sure as hell not treating her like a toy you can pick up and put down."
He looked like he’d been struck by lightning, staring at me with wide eyes.
"You don't love me. You're just pissed you lost," I continued. "You can't stand that I don't belong to you anymore. You can't stand that I have a new life."
"That's not..." his voice was barely a whisper.
"Then tell me," I looked at him coldly. "We were together for four years. Do you know my birthday? My favorite color? Do you have any idea what my dreams were?"
Damien opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
He didn't know. Any of it.
Because he never cared about me.
He only cared about my body, my obedience, and what I could do for him.
"Elara."
Julian's voice came from behind me.
I turned and saw him walking toward us. No anger on his face. Just concern.
"I was worried you were out here too long," he said softly.
Damien saw Julian, and pure hatred filled his eyes.
"This is the man who stole you from me?" he snarled.
"No one stole me," I replied calmly. "I chose him."
Damien grabbed my arm, his grip desperate. "Elara, aren't you going to give me another chance?"
I looked at the man I once loved so desperately. It was pathetic.
I threw his own cruel words back at him. The ones he used to gut me.
"Making a scene like this… it's just pathetic, Damien."
