Society Woman 1

IMOGEN'S POV

The bedroom door closed behind me with a soft click. I leaned back against it, eyes closed, letting the familiar lavender scent envelop me. With the chaotic dinner I just had, I needed more than a break. I kicked off my heels and crossed the plush carpet to the bed. The mattress cradled my weary body as I sank onto the luxurious duvet.

My gaze drifted upwards, tracing the subtle swirls in the white ceiling paint. A slightly crooked business card peeked out from beneath my pillow. I pulled it free, running my thumb along the crisp edges before flipping it over. Isaac's name and number seemed to bore into me.

With a steadying breath, I pushed off the bed and turned the lock with a decisive click. I could feel my pulse thrumming as I crossed to the antique telephone on the nightstand and began dialing the numbers from memory.

The hollow rings reverberated in my ear. Just as I began to doubt, a deep voice answered. "Hello?"

I clutched the receiver tighter, momentarily forgetting how to speak. "H-Hello. This is Imogen."

A brief silence, then, "I know. You have a voice that can't be forgotten easily."

Heat bloomed across my face. My free hand toyed with the emerald pendant lying cool against my skin as he spoke again.

"How did you like my gift? Did it have the effect you wanted?"

I managed a breathy chuckle. "The emerald is beautiful. And yes, it seems my husband does not take kindly to receiving the same dish he served."

Isaac's rich laugh danced down the line. "So, have you made up your mind?"

Squaring my shoulders, I stated firmly, "I have. I think we should talk about it tomorrow."

"I agree, but not at my office." His tone took on a grave edge. "I had to pay hush money to a photographer."

My stomach twisted guiltily. "Where then?"

"The Velvet Spire," he replied smoothly.

"Okay. The Velvet Spire at 12." My voice sounded distant to my own ears.

A charged silence stretched between us until finally, "Goodnight, Imogen." His velvet murmur caressed my name.

"Goodnight," I whispered back, then gently set down the receiver.

I remained motionless, the implications of our exchange slowly seeping in.

I was enjoying our interactions. Short, swift, and professional. Yet, they filled me with something. Or perhaps I was just reaching because companionship was something I lacked friend-wise and family-wise.

But I knew not to dream. The lush bedroom surrounding me was the same, and yet everything had shifted. My gaze fell upon the locked door, the only barrier separating the pieces of my fractured life. I fingered the emerald pendant on my throat, letting its coolness ground me as I contemplated the next step to take.

It was sad, really. I was a married woman most single women currently envied. The new daughter of the Rossi house and all that dominated my thoughts was my husband's mistress and how I could get rid of her.

I knew better than to hope that the outburst tonight was the last of it. In fact, it was the scary part of the whole thing. Elijah was weak-willed. Sure, money was what blinded him the most. But he did care for the girl enough to give in to her trifling demands. The day he grew a spine to stand up to his parents. I was the one who was going to be left in the dust, and I would rather die than let that happen.

It was the only thing I thought about before sleep took hold of me.

***

A soft rustle stirred me from sleep. My eyelids fluttered open to the dull morning light filtering through the curtains. A shadowy figure moved about the room.

"Maggie?" The name escaped my lips in a surprised gasp as I clutched the duvet closer.

The housekeeper turned towards me, a faint smile playing on her lips as she continued straightening. "Good morning, ma'am. I came to drop off your clothes, as Master Elijah requested, and to clean the room."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "But I locked the door."

Maggie let out a soft chuckle laced with condescension. From her apron pocket, she produced a ring of keys and gave them a teasing jingle. "I am the housekeeper. I have keys to every room."

A shiver traced my spine as the implication sank in. Maggie must have noticed my discomfort as her expression momentarily softened. "If you find this concerning, you can tell me to stop. But you'll have to take it up with the Master, as I only listen to him."

I bristled at her brazen misogyny but pushed it aside. "You mentioned clothes?"

With a nod, she indicated the open wardrobe where an exquisite shimmering dress now hung. I slipped from the bed, duvet still clutched protectively around me, and approached to inspect it closer. Delicate embroidery and beadwork adorned the elegant gown - undoubtedly expensive and entirely foreign to my usual attire.

"Are we going to a party?" I queried, holding up the lavish garment.

But Maggie only shook her head knowingly. "I doubt it, ma'am. The designer is favored by women joining the Portland Women Society."

An unfamiliar name that immediately piqued my interest. "The Portland Women Society? What's that?"

Her face went carefully blank once more. "You should ask Master Elijah." She gave a slight bow. "I am just the maid."

With that, she turned and let herself out, leaving me standing amidst a room that now felt colder and uninviting. I stared at the glittering gown, my mind whirling.

I carefully hung the gown once more and retreated to the bed, pondering my limited avenues. Maggie was correct - only my husband could provide the answers I sought.

A heaviness settled in my chest at the prospect of confronting him, but I could no longer be left in the dark.

Restless thoughts spurred me from my room and down the silent hallway. My footsteps fell heavily, each one carrying me closer to the imposing door of Elijah's bedroom - a barrier I had never dared cross until now. Without pause, I threw it open with a slam.

The room was markedly different from my own space. His room was beautifully appointed but in a distinctly masculine way. Dark wood furniture, deep green accents, and leather-bound books lined the shelves. It exuded a sense of controlled chaos, much like Elijah himself.

Elijah jolted upright in the rumpled bed sheets, his tousled hair backlit by the soft morning glow filtering in. Confusion creased his brow as he registered my intrusion, gaze drifting over my rigid stance. He wore only thin boxers, fabric straining against his form - a jarring juxtaposition to the storm raging in my mind.

"What is the Portland Women's Society, and why do you want me to go?" I demanded, my voice wavering with anger and bewilderment.

Swinging his legs over the side, Elijah stood and approached with casual confidence, entirely unruffled. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, exhaling a resigned sigh as if anticipating this very confrontation.

"It's my mother's idea," he began, frustration lacing his tone. "I couldn't care less if you go or not. But it would send a message about you to the other women if you don't attend."

His cryptic words hung thickly between us as I struggled to comprehend. "What message?" I shot back, hugging my arms defensively.

Elijah's expression grew more grave. "That there's trouble in paradise..." He hesitated before finishing, "Or worse - that Imogen Rossi doesn't respect her mother-in-law."

I could only gape at him in disbelieving silence, my anger momentarily overshadowed by sheer bafflement. When I finally found my voice, it was hushed with dismay. "This is about appearances?"

"It's always about appearances with her." Elijah's features softened slightly, his gaze holding mine. "You have to understand, my mother holds a lot of sway in that circle. If she feels slighted, it could cause more trouble than it's worth."

A weighty dread settled over me as the implication sank in. I had never asked for this life of high society pretenses, and yet here I was, utterly ensnared in its trappings.

"So, what do you suggest?" My own voice sounded hollow, the anger fading into resigned trepidation.

Elijah stepped closer, holding my stare with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Go to the meeting, play the part," he stated simply. "It's just one day. After that, you can decide how much or little you want to be involved."

As eminently reasonable as his proposal was, the thought of capitulating to his mother's demands left a bitter taste. Yet I knew there were some battles too insignificant to wage war over.

I drew in a steadying breath and gave a slow, defeated nod. "Fine. I'll go." My jaw tensed as I leveled him with a pointed look. "But this doesn't mean I'm accepting everything without question."

Relief flickered across Elijah's features, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards into a faint smile. "That's all I ask."

Turning on my heel, I started for the door, then paused to glance back at him. "This doesn't change anything between us," I stated, letting my churning doubts bleed into the words.

His expression was solemn as he met my gaze and gave a single nod. "Trust me, nothing ever will."