Chapter 3 3

The flashbulbs were blinding. A wall of white light erupted as soon as the limousine door opened.

Elle stepped onto the red carpet. The dress Carlyn had chosen was a weapon. Deep crimson silk, backless, with a plunging neckline that stopped just short of scandal. It clung to her like a second skin.

Hunt stepped out behind her. His hand settled on the small of her back. It felt heavy, possessive.

"It's too low," he muttered in her ear, his voice tight.

He shifted his stance, angling his body to block the photographers from getting a side view of her chest.

"Smile," Elle whispered through gritted teeth.

A woman approached them. She was tall, blonde, and carried a glass of champagne like a scepter. The woman from the photo.

"Hunt," the woman cooed. She ignored Elle completely. "I didn't think you'd make it after our late night."

Elle felt Hunt's hand twitch against her back.

"Business doesn't stop for sleep, Allegra," Hunt said smoothly.

Allegra turned her gaze to Elle. Her eyes raked over the red dress. "A daring choice. Very... Hollywood."

"Thank you," Elle said. "It takes confidence to wear red."

Hunt didn't defend her. He didn't tighten his grip or pull her closer. He just checked his watch. "We should go inside. The board members are waiting."

He steered Elle away, leaving Allegra smirking in their wake.

Inside, the ballroom was a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns. Elle felt like a prop. A shiny hood ornament on Hunt's expensive life.

"I need air," she said.

Hunt frowned. "We just got here."

"I need air, Hunt."

She walked toward the terrace doors without waiting for him.

The night air was crisp, carrying the metallic scent of the city. Elle walked to the stone railing and looked out at the Manhattan skyline. The lights blurred into streaks of gold and white.

Footsteps crunched behind her. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted over.

"You're being dramatic," Hunt said. The click of his lighter was sharp in the quiet.

Elle turned. He was leaning against the wall, smoking. He looked tired.

"Hunt," she said. Her voice shook. "Let's get married."

Hunt froze. The flame of his lighter flickered and died. He slowly lowered the cigarette, staring at her as if she had started speaking a foreign language.

"You've had too much champagne," he said.

"I'm sober. I'm serious." Elle took a step toward him. "Three years, Hunt. We live together. We sleep together. Don't you think it's time?"

Hunt dropped the cigarette and crushed it under the heel of his shoe. He let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"Time for what? A contract negotiation?"

"For a commitment."

He pushed off the wall and walked toward her, towering over her. "Elle, don't mistake my generosity for weakness. Marriage is a merger of assets. It's business."

He looked down at her, his eyes cold and calculating. "What collateral do you bring to the table? Your failed acting career? Your family's debt?"

The words were physical blows. They punched the air out of her lungs.

"Is that all I am?" she whispered. "A bad investment?"

Hunt's jaw tightened. "You're the one trying to change the terms of the deal. If you want more money, tell Preston. Don't try to trap me with sentimental garbage."

He checked his watch again. "I have a meeting with the senator in five minutes. Go home. Driver is waiting."

He turned his back on her.

Elle stood there, the wind whipping the hem of her red dress around her legs. She watched him walk away, watched the broad set of his shoulders, the arrogant tilt of his head.

She didn't cry. The tears had dried up somewhere between the "merger of assets" and "failed career."

She reached into her clutch and pulled out her phone. She typed a message to Carlyn.

Initiate Plan B.

Then she dialed a number.

"Preston," she said when the assistant answered. "I need to see you tomorrow morning. At the office."

"Ms. Allison?" Preston sounded confused. "Mr. Noble already instructed me to draft the renewal papers for the apartment lease..."

"Not the lease," Elle cut him off. "The separation. I want to discuss the termination of my contract."

"Oh." Preston paused. "I... I see. I'll clear the schedule."

Elle hung up.

Inside the ballroom, Hunt sat in the back of his town car. He loosened his tie, his chest feeling tight.

He reached into his jacket pocket. His fingers brushed against a small, velvet box. It wasn't an engagement ring. It was a diamond tennis bracelet. A beautiful, expensive leash. Something to quiet her down for another few months.

He had planned to give it to her tonight.

But she had pushed him. She had tried to corner him.

He slammed the partition shut. "Drive."

On the terrace, Elle finished her champagne in one gulp. She set the glass on the railing.

She adjusted her strap, lifted her chin, and walked back into the party. She smiled at the cameras. It was the best performance of her life.