C2 The Devil’s Proposition

The gown was a relic from a long time ago, made of pale silk that no longer sparkled as bright as it was. Elena pulled at the seams and whispered to her reflection, "Don't let them see you break." Her hair, which she had quickly brushed, shone in waves down her back. It was the only thing about her that still showed that she was rich.

The doors to the mansion opened without a word, and she walked into the light of the chandeliers. The smell of roasted meats and wine filled the air, and gold-leaf ceilings arched over her. Gregory Thorne, who was silver-haired and wore a perfectly fitted suit, sat at the head of the table. His eyes sparkled like polished obsidian as he watched her come closer with a predatory patience.

He stood up just enough to see her and said, "Elena Marlowe." "I wondered if pride would keep you from eating with me."

"I came for answers," she said, her voice firm even though her heart was racing.

"Answers," Gregory said again, enjoying the sound of the term. "How cute." "Sit."

She sat down on the chair, and all of her muscles were tense. "Let's get this over with."

He grinned, but his eyes didn't show it. "It's never over, kid." It's just the start.

The servants poured wine, and their stillness was heavier than the crystal goblets they held. Elena clasped her hands together under the table to stop them from shaking.

Gregory's smile got bigger when he raised his glass. She felt like a door was closing behind her, trapping her inside.

He swirled the wine, and the red colour caught the light. He said, "To the end of pride," and his voice was both soft and angry. He drank a lot before sliding a leather folder across the table.

"What is this?" Elena asked.

"Proof," Gregory said, seeing her fingers hesitate.

She opened it, and her breath caught. Pictures of her father shaking hands with persons she knew, such politicians, business leaders, and rivals, smiled back at her. Underneath them were contracts written in his bold handwriting.

"These were private," she said in a low voice.

Gregory laughed. "There's nothing private in my world." "Your father's fall and your family's ruin—do you think those were accidents?"

She shook her hands as she pushed the papers away. "You've been watching us."

"Not spying." "Curating," he said effortlessly. "Your dad was careless. I told him to be careful. "He paid the price."

Elena snarled, "You watched us burn." "And you liked it."

He smiled slowly and on purpose. "I don't deny that I liked the flames."

Her chest rose and fell too quickly, and anger was pushing on her ribs. She wanted to throw the glass at his head to get rid of that smug smirk. But she could see her brother's face in her memory, pallid and shaking on the couch.

Gregory leaned back and put his hands together under his chin. "I've been watching you for longer than you know."

Elena's eyes grew wide and her stomach sank. He hadn't simply seen the ruin. He had planned it.

Gregory delicately tapped the table, but his eyes never left hers. "Do you want to help your brother?"

Elena snapped, "Of course I do." "But you won't use him as bait in front of me."

"I already am," he responded with a weak smile. "You can only go one way from here. One man who can keep your family safe.

Her throat got constricted. "Who?"

Gregory said, "Damian Blackwood," and he enjoyed each syllable.

Elena stood still. "No."

"Yes," he said, his voice as smooth as a knife. "A marriage by contract." He gets your commitment, and in return, you get your mother and brother's life.

"I won't marry him," she said angrily. "You think I'll crawl into the arms of a man who loves blood and destruction?"

Gregory leaned in closer, and the cedar and smoke in his fragrance were strong. "You think you have a choice?"

She suddenly stood up, her hands flat on the table. "I'll find a different way."

He shook his head and laughed quietly. "Stubborn." Just like your dad. But this time, Elena, being stubborn will cost you everything.

He raised his glass again, his eyes black and proud. "Damian agreed to the plan on his own."

The words hurt more than any knife. Elena's lips parted in shock. Damian Blackwood, her adversary, was waiting for her.

The chair legs scraped across the marble as Elena jumped up. Her chest rose and fell as rage coursed through her.

"You think I'll tie myself to Damian Blackwood just because you snap your fingers?" Her voice rang out, shaking with rage. "I'd rather go hungry than crawl to that man."

Gregory didn't move. He ran his finger along the edge of his glass and looked at her like she was a specimen.

He said softly, "You think begging is survival."

"Don't twist this," Elena said sharply as she leaned over the table. "You want me to sell myself." "My body, my name, my soul."

Gregory's eyes narrowed, and the light made his face hard to read. "You call it selling." I call it a plan.

"Strategy?" She laughed bitterly, even though her throat hurt. "An idea that takes away my choices, ties me to a man who hates me, and destroys what little dignity I have left?"

He looked up, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Being dignified doesn't buy medicine."

Her lips parted, and she stuttered, but her defiance came back immediately. "You won't use my family as pawns again." I won't let you.

Gregory came in closer, and his voice got lower until it was a knife in her ear. "Your brother's hospital bills are already late."

The words went through her like poison. For a second, her knees almost gave out. She saw Julian's pale face and the blood on his lips. The boy still trusted her and sought for her.

She wavered in her defiance. Gregory smiled like he had watched her soul break.

She shook when she picked up the goblet. She threw the wine across the table in one quick move, and the red splattered all over Gregory's clean suit and dripped down his collar.

He did not pull back. Instead, he used a linen serviette to blot the stain while looking at her.

"You dare," he replied softly, more in fun than anger.

"You want people to do what you say?" Elena's voice broke with anger. "Get another puppet." I will never give in to you. "I won't give up my life to play your games."

Gregory stood up slowly, and even in stillness, he was tall. He leaned across the table so near that she could smell the harsh smell of his cologne, which was cedar smoke with a dash of iron.

"You think your fire will keep you safe," he continued in a calm, cold voice. "But pride has already killed men who were stronger than your father."

She looked him in the eye, fists at her sides. "Better to burn than to rot in your cage."

Gregory's lips turned up a little. He moved closer, so near that his breath touched her cheek.

"Your brother can't live without me."

The words hit her like chains, cold and definitive. Elena's heart raced as the trap closed around her, tighter than ever.