Chapter 7 Inked In Betrayal

I didn't wait for the valet; instead, I moved quickly and deliberately until I reached my old-looking, worn-out car I took on a loan, gasping for air as a wave of dizziness rushed over me. I drove home completely distracted, debating whether to accept the offer and never think about what I believed I had with Edward or to call Aunt May to seek her counsel.

By the time I reached the penthouse, the silence of the marble entrance felt like a safe haven. I moved like a robot being controlled by a remote, removing the beige dress that now felt like a heavy weight. I stepped into the shower, letting the cold water wash away the scent of Lily's expensive floral and the cold taste of the bribe. "I'm not a transaction," I said to myself.

I quickly changed into a soft, grey cashmere loungewear, something casual enough to look like I'd been home all day. I didn't want Edward to know the silent war I was fighting in my mind. At least not yet.

I headed for the kitchen, my hands shaking as I began to prepare a meal. I needed the grounding comfort of cooking. I made a Moroccan lamb tagine, the spices filling the apartment.

I heard the  front door open at exactly seven. The air in the penthouse shifted immediately, the scent of Edward's expensive sandalwood cologne mixed with the aroma of slow-cooked cinnamon and cumin.

"Serena?" He was in the kitchen before I could turn around. He looked tired, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. Without a word, he stepped into my space and pulled me into a warm, long hug. It was still a new kind of feeling, this man of ice craving my warmth, but I found myself leaning into him, my face pressed against the crisp cotton of his shirt.

"You smell like home," he whispered, his voice a low tone. "And you smell like a long day," I teased, though my voice wavered.

Edward pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "How was your day? You didn't answer my text this afternoon."

My heart skipped a beat. I turned back to the stove, stirring the tagine with more force than necessary. "Oh, I... I must have missed it. Honestly, Edward, I think the stress of the weekend finally caught up to me. I slept almost all day. I only woke up an hour ago to start dinner."

Edward frowned, a feeling of concern crossing his face. "Are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale."

"Just tired," I lied, the words tasting like ash. "Go freshen up. Dinner is almost ready."

The meal was a quiet, intimate one. Edward talked about a complex merger he was handling, his hands gesturing with a passion he usually reserved for the boxing ring. He seemed lighter, more present than I had ever seen him. He asked me more questions about my childhood, genuinely listening as I described the chaotic, loud birthdays of my siblings. For a few hours, the ten-million-dollar ghost in my bag disappeared.

As the night progressed, the atmosphere in the apartment changed. The dinner had been so cozy and intimate that it made us feel drawn to each other. 

When we stood up to clear the table, Edward's hand touched mine, and we both felt a sudden jolt of attraction.

When we were done cleaning up and ready to retire for the night, he walked me to the door of the guest room, but he didn't stop at the entrance. He squeezed me into the doorframe, his hands reaching for my waist. The cold lawyer was gone; in his place was a man who looked at me like I was the only fixed point in a spinning world.

"Serena," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. "This contract... it's not enough anymore."

I didn't answer with words. I pulled him into the room, and for the first time, the walls we had both built were completely broken. The intimacy was raw and desperate, a collision of two lonely people finally finding a place to land.

It was 4:00 AM, and the early morning light was creeping through the curtains. Edward turned to me, his arm holding me close. He looked at me sleeping, feeling something he couldn't quite explain. He didn't want to wake me, but he didn't want the morning to start yet either. He wanted to do something to show me that our relationship was more than just a contract.

He remembered the credit card he had given me, the one he'd condescendingly told me to use to replace my thrift clothes. He felt a sense of shame. He slid out of bed silently, grabbing his silk robe. He had a new black titanium card in his desk, one tied to his personal account, issued in my name, Serena Vance. It was a small gesture, but to him, it was a declaration of his affection.

He tiptoed into the living room where my bag sat on the console table. He reached inside, his fingers brushing against the soft leather of my wallet. But as he pulled it out, a folded slip of heavy paper fell out and dropped to the floor.

Edward frowned, leaning down to pick it up. He unfolded it, expecting a receipt or a grocery list. Instead, he found himself staring at his mother's elegant, predatory handwriting. Pay to the order of Serena Blake. Amount: $10,000,000.00.

The blood drained from Edward's face. The silence of the penthouse, which had felt so peaceful minutes ago, suddenly felt like a tomb. He looked at the date on the check. Yesterday. The day I told him I had slept all day.

When he opened the bag to look for any more secrets, he discovered that his mother had sent me an invitation card with the golden Vance crest, asking me to join her for lunch at her favorite elite Oaktown club.

He looked at the bedroom door, his heart turning back into the very ice I had worked so hard to melt. He hadn't just found a check; he had found the price tag he thought I didn't have.