Chapter 2

She walked into the Fifth Avenue penthouse and was met with darkness. The sprawling space was silent, save for the hum of the city filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He wasn't home. A small, hollow sense of relief washed over her as she reached for the light switch.

The room flooded with light, and her heart seized.

Eleazar was sitting on the sofa, a statue in the shadows. The only movement was the faint red glow of a cigarillo between his fingers. The air was thick with his anger; it felt like a physical presence in the room.

He didn't speak. He simply slid a tablet across the marble coffee table. It stopped inches from her.

The screen displayed a preview of the next day's New York Post. The headline was a punch to the gut: "MRS. HUDSON'S AFTERNOON DELIGHT: A COZY REUNION WITH A COLLEGE FLAME."

The photo was damning. Her and Denver Bradley, her ex from Georgetown, on the terrace of a café yesterday afternoon. He was leaning in close, his expression intense. The angle made it look intimate, secretive.

He'd been wiping a smudge of foam from her cheek after she'd laughed too hard. A simple, friendly gesture. In Eleazar's world, it was grounds for a declaration of war.

Eleazar's voice, when it came, was a low, dangerous rumble. "Couldn't even wait for me to file. Already lining up your replacement?"

A wave of dizziness hit her. The urge to explain, to defend herself, rose in her throat and died. After the calculated cruelty in that restaurant, what was the point? He wouldn't believe her. He didn't want to.

Her silence was his confirmation.

He moved so fast she didn't have time to react. He was off the sofa, his hand clamping onto her chin, forcing her head up. His grip was bruising.

"Article five of the prenup. The fidelity clause. You're in breach, Elaina."

Pain shot through her jaw, but she met his furious gaze without flinching. "Our marriage was over the moment you walked into that restaurant with her."

It was the wrong thing to say.

His eyes, which had been cold with anger, now burned with something else. Something possessive. Jealous.

"You are my wife until the papers are signed," he snarled.

Before she could process the words, he swept her into his arms. She struggled, but it was like fighting against a stone wall. He strode toward the bedroom, his steps heavy with purpose.

Her blood ran cold. She knew what this was.

He tossed her onto the vast, soft bed, and his body followed, pinning her down. Before she could scramble away, he was on her, his weight pinning her down. One hand gripped the neckline of her dress, and the sound of silk ripping was a sharp, violent tear in the silence of the room.

"Eleazar, stop! You're insane!" she cried, her hands beating against the solid wall of his chest.

He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. His breath was hot against her ear. "Insane? You want to see what my 'sickness' looked like when I thought about you with another man?"

This wasn't passion. It was punishment. A brutal, violent claiming of what he still considered his.

Her fight drained out of her, replaced by a chilling emptiness. She went limp, a broken doll, her eyes staring blankly at the ornate ceiling.

Her surrender seemed to give him a moment's pause, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. But it was quickly consumed by a darker, more desperate urgency.

He claimed his 'illness' was cured. But his body, now, was a liar. It reacted to her with a ferocious honesty that was more intense, more consuming, than it had ever been.

When it was over, he pulled away and went into the en-suite bathroom without a single look back.

Elaina curled into a tight ball, pulling the duvet around her violated body. The tears came silently, hot tracks of shame and grief. For herself. For the tiny, innocent life inside her.

Why? If he didn't love her, why this desperate, angry possession?

The sound of the shower stopped. He emerged minutes later, wrapped in a plush white robe, his face once again an unreadable mask of cold indifference.

He didn't look at her as he spoke.

"Move your things into the guest room tomorrow. And stay away from him until this is settled."

He turned and left, the click of the bedroom door shutting echoing the final, shattering blow to her heart.