The bride that never was

ELIJAH'S POV

"That wasn't from me." The words left my mouth before I had even realized I had said it.

I watched in shock as Imogen walked out on me to meet Maggie.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"I dropped them in your bedroom," Maggie replied before walking off.

Imogen was about to do the same if I hadn't called her back.

"Imogen, wait," I demanded.

She listened and turned back to face me. "What?"

What did she mean what? She had just received flowers and 'jewelry' from someone who wasn't her husband, and she looked nonchalant about it.

"Flowers? Jewelry? Isn't that a bit too much?" I retorted.

Imogen had the audacity to look confused. "Yes. They are gifts."

"Gifts from your side piece, I suppose?"

"Yes, does that bother you?"

In a way, I guess I could see how much of a hypocrite I sounded like. I had brought Deborah into the house, slept with her, and even made her stay the night.

Compared to what I had done, Imogen probably looked like a saint. Her side piece was just sending her gifts, after all. But why did it feel wrong when this was what I wanted?

Maybe it was because it showed that Imogen hadn't been kidding when she mentioned she had men vying for her attention. She wasn't bad-looking, and she was raised like a proper woman. Men would foam for a woman like her. I just hadn't thought she would... What the hell was I thinking? This was a good thing. This was a fucking good thing! There would be no guilt to cripple me at night. If this arrangement could survive, it was better I just let it.

After a minute of tense silence, I managed to smile. "No, I just need you to be more careful with whatever man you are fucking around with. Lower-class men don't recognize boundaries. If he is sending flowers to our home now, what else will he do?"

"Men of the high class bring their whores to the home they share with their wives. I'll be fine, husband. Plus, he is not lower class. Trust me."

Imogen's words struck me like a slap in the face. The bitterness that crept into her tone was palpable. I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the surge of anger rising within me. But I didn't say a word.

"I should go, Elijah."

What was I supposed to do? Refuse? I nodded, letting her leave the room.

The deep breath I had trapped in left my nostrils when the doors to my study shut.

I returned to my table, and all that rage immediately transferred to the papers on my table. I flung them off my table in a fit of rage.

I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't understand why it was happening. What broke the camel's back for me was Imogen telling it to my face that the man she was cheating with was rich.

Who was he? Who the fuck was he?

My hands fumbled at the ruffled desk, and I reached for my phone. I brought the damned device close and pressed a few numbers.

It rang for a bit before Deborah picked it up.

"You sent me out in a rush to placate your wife. What are you calling me now? Do you miss me?"

"Come over. Stay the night."

"Oh," Deborah chuckled. "What did she do to you? You sound pissed."

"You coming or not, Deb?!"

"Of course, I am coming. Give me an hour."

"Good." I licked my lips. "Wear something red."

I then slammed down the handset on the switch hook.

While I waited for Deborah's arrival, a swirl of conflicting emotions churned within me. It wasn't just anger; it was a cocktail of frustration, insecurity, and resentment. Yet, buried beneath it all was a nagging suspicion that Imogen's newfound confidence stemmed from more than just receiving gifts from some admirer.

Was she testing me? Pushing boundaries to see how far I would let her go? Or had she truly found solace in the arms of another man, someone who could offer her the attention and affection she craved?

I couldn't deny the surge of jealousy that prickled at the edges of my mind. The thought of Imogen in another man's embrace ignited a fire within me that I didn't even know existed.

For reasons unknown, I wanted to punish her for it.

But was it fair to blame Imogen for seeking what I had failed to provide? Hadn't I brought Deborah into our home, indulged in forbidden pleasures, and then expected Imogen to carry on as if nothing had happened?

***

IMOGEN'S POV

Oh, he was mad. I would admit. It was a reaction I hadn't anticipated from my husband. Elijah had been so nonchalant about what I did. He had been incredibly cruel with it, too. But the second it seemed like I was paying him back in his own coin, he couldn't handle it.

I practically raced to my bedroom. I noticed things had been fixed. The giant white sheets were nowhere to be found. I had new bedsheets, and the room itself smelled nice. Lavender.

At the edge of my bed was a bouquet of white roses. I picked them up and sniffed them.

They smelled divine. I looked around for a vase, but there was none. So, I decided just to set that aside.

My eyes caught the second gift that Isaac sent my way.

I picked up the black jewelry box and opened it. Despite being just a box, it was delicately crafted and adorned with intricate patterns, which told me it must be expensive.

There was also a designer's name imprinted on the box. I couldn't even pronounce it, but it sounded Italian.

My curiosity piqued, and I opened it to find a stunning necklace nestled inside. The Emerald stone sparkled in the dim light, and while I stared at the beautiful work of art. A piece of paper fell out.

It was a handwritten note.

"The beauty of crossing the line," It read.

I chuckled. Isaac had been right. Even though Elijah wanted nothing to do with me, he still couldn't stand the thought of me being with another man. Did he think I was his property or something? It was a burning crimson flag and a weakness I intended to exploit for as long as my farce marriage with Elijah lasted.

I picked out the necklace and walked towards my dressing mirror.

When I stood before the mirror, I placed the necklace on my skin. The match against my tone was beautiful. It made me wonder how much it cost.

I just had to try it on.

That turned out to be the tricky part. My fingers trembled slightly as I struggled to clasp the necklace around my neck.

Just as I was about to give up and try again, the door creaked open, and I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as I turned to look at the intruder.

Elijah stood in the doorway, the expression on his face guarded.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Elijah's gaze flickered from me to the necklace in my hand, a furrow forming on his brow. "We are husband and wife," he replied, his tone almost condescending. "Do the maths."

I was fighting the urge not to chuckle. Was that how bothered Elijah was by the mention of roses and jewelry? He had to come out himself and check them out. I watched him through the mirror's surface while I pretended like I was just trying to fix the jewelry to my neck.

I watched his eyes graze my bed where the bouquet of roses still lay.

"Roses?" He mused, loud enough for me to hear. "I thought you liked Vanilla and Lilies."

"I don't mind roses," I replied. "I guess it is fine as long as the flower is white."

"Hmmm," Elijah nodded.

The next thing that his eyes caught was the jewelry box. "Luvor, " he commented as he picked it up. "You weren't wrong when you mentioned he is rich." When he looked at the bed again, he noticed the note that Isaac had left me. I didn't struggle to snatch it off his hands. The content of the note could tell whatever story it needed to in the wrong hands, and Elijah's hand and mind probably already thought the worst of me.

"The beauty of crossing the line." He read out loud before chuckling. "Is this fellow actually cheering you to sleep with him?"

"I haven't slept with him." I retorted. It must have been a habit. I blurted it out without thinking, almost fucking up things before they got really good. But somehow, a save came to mind. "Not yet."

I observed Elijah's expression, gauging his reaction to my words. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked by a cold indifference.

"Not yet?" he repeated, his tone laced with what I believed could only be disbelief.

I bit my lip, inwardly cursing myself for the slip of the tongue. But it was too late to take any of it back now. I had to play along to maintain the facade of confidence and control.

"That is not what he wants," I replied. "But I haven't made up my mind yet."

Elijah's gaze bore into mine as he approached me. For a hot minute, I actually believed he was going to choke me. He was capable of it.

But he didn't. Instead, he took the necklace off my hands and helped me clasp it on.

"Well, I hope you make the right decision," he said finally, his voice tinged with a note of warning. "If he can afford Luvor, he is definitely in my family's circle. Don't do something you might regret."

I fought the urge to scoff at his hypocrisy. After all, he was the one who had brought another woman into our home, who had betrayed our marriage vows without a second thought.

But I held my tongue, knowing that now was not the time to provoke him further. Instead, I forced a smile, trying to convey a sense of nonchalance that I didn't truly feel.

"Don't worry, Elijah," I said sweetly. "I have already survived a wrong choice. What is another?"

I made sure not to pay him any attention after I said those words. I wanted him to hurt, and I knew he did. For some reason, Elijah Rossi dared to be hurt when he was tge architect of all my pain.

I simply focused on the necklace around my throat, and I thought about Isaac. I thought about illusions and how far I was going to take this game Elijah had started.

I was willing now. I was going to cross the line.