Jealous? 4

IMOGEN'S POV

I almost couldn't believe my eyes.

The second Deborah said those words, she took her bag and stormed out of the room.

I could hear her break into a sob when she reached the hallway.

I sat there with bated breath as her footsteps echoed down the hallway before it eventually disappeared.

Was I fucking dreaming?

I couldn't suppress the sigh of relief that escaped my lips.

I didn't expect it to be that easy to get rid of Deborah. The fact that Elijah dealt the card to himself, too.

Turning to face Elijah, I braced myself for the inevitable confrontation that would follow.

His expression was inscrutable, a mask of indifference that I was starting to believe was made specifically for me.

"So, you got what you wanted," he remarked, his fine laced with a hint of disdain. Another emotion I was starting to get used to. "she is finally gone."

"Yes, it seems so," I replied evenly, masking the truth of how I felt. Apathy was a fitting response to his nature. "Do you blame me?"

I watched the indifference falter. He grabbed his spoon. So tight that his jaw turned ghost white. There was also the tenseness in his jaw.

"Is this not your fault?"

I fought to keep my composure, refusing to let his attitude get under my skin.

"I'm not sure. All I did was be a girl's girl. It would be cruel for you to keep her by your side if that is all she is going to be—your side piece. I mean, look at your brother. You despise—"

"Shut up," Elijah's eyes bore into mine as if searching for any sign of weakness. But I had already gotten practice. Hurt wasn't a weapon he was going to be able to use with me. "You know," he began, his voice dripping with condescension, "if you think you've won me over by driving her away, you're sorely mistaken."

His words stung, but I refused to let him see the hurt they caused. "I'm not trying to win you over, Elijah," I retorted, my tone icy. "I'm simply trying to salvage what little dignity I have left in this farce of a marriage."

"You agreed to the terms and conditions!" He shrieked back. "You don't see me complaining about your boy toy. If he even exists."

"Oh, he does exist, and yes, I agreed to keep up this farce with you. But I refuse to tolerate you bringing a woman to this house. You don't see me bringing my 'boy toy' for a night. Why? Because I choose to respect you. I ask for that same respect."

The tension between us hung heavy in the air, suffocating any semblance of civility.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. All you could really hear was the sound of our ragged breathing filling the space around us.

I could sense the frustration radiating off him, like waves crashing against the shore, relentless and unyielding.

But beneath the anger, there was something else, something raw and vulnerable. I saw it flicker in his eyes, a fleeting glimpse of what looked like pain that lay buried beneath his carefully constructed facade.

"You don't understand," he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know what it's like to carry the weight of my family's expectations, to bear the burden of that legacy."

I wanted to scoff at his words, to remind him of the privilege he enjoyed compared to the rest of us mere mortals. But I held my tongue, choosing instead to meet his gaze with steely resolve.

"I may not understand the intricacies of your world, Elijah," I replied evenly, "but I do know one thing: you are not a tragic hero in this story. Your fixation on the inheritance your brother stands to get is the reason why you and I are in this mess. I don't want to see you play the victim card when you picked me. Willingly."

"Willingly?" Elijah chuckled. "If there had been plenty of prospective brides, do you think you would have been picked? You must think you are hot shit, but let me tell you, the pathetic middle-class life your family was able to achieve was because of my family. It must have been the reason your mother was nothing short of obsessed with manipulating my mother to get us together. You were chosen for me because you are agreeable. Why wouldn't you be? Your family owes mine big time."

My eyebrows quirked. What did he mean by that? What had the Rossi done for my family that I didn't know about?

I immediately pushed the thoughts aside. He was getting to me. It was time to take back power. I refused to show that his words cut deep.

"You may believe that you hold all the cards in this game, Elijah," I retorted, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "But I refuse to be reduced to a pawn in your twisted power play. I may have been chosen for you, but that doesn't mean I'll play the role of a compliant wife to satisfy your ego if you won't put in the work I am putting into this."

Elijah's expression hardened, his features contorted with rage. "What fucking work are you putting into this marriage?"

His eyes lingered on the jewelry bejeweling my neck, and I saw his eyes flash red. "You have a boy toy yourself."

"I don't bring him to this house."

"But he sends you gifts!" Elijah yelled back. "Do you know what that fucking means, Imogen?"

Goosebumps exploded all over my body. Except this time, it wasn't out of fear. Was Elijah jealous?

"No," I replied. "What do you think it means?"

"He is gloating," Elijah seethed, his voice dripping with venom. "He's flaunting his wealth, his status, his power over you. And you're lapping it up like a pampered pet. That isn't even the worst part. He is trying to tell me he owns you. You are a thrill, and he relishes that he can touch what he believes is mine."

I squared my shoulders, refusing to let his words shake me. "And what if he is?" I shot back, my voice steady. "What does it matter to you?"

"It matters because you're my wife," Elijah spat, his tone laced with a rawness I did not understand. "You made a vow to me to honor and cherish me above all others. And yet, here you are, cavorting with some rich playboy who is only what he is because of daddy's money behind my back."

"I never promised to be a prisoner in this marriage," I retorted, my words cutting through the tension like a knife. "You never promised to be one too. It is why you have a mistress. It is why we signed an agreement that will let this farce stand the test of time. If you want this to be a real marriage, if you want my loyalty, then you have to earn it. You can't expect me to remain faithful to a man who isn't faithful to me. A man who treats me like a possession, not a partner."

Elijah fell silent for a moment, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Then, unexpectedly, he burst into laughter, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed through the room.

"Demanding I fulfill my marital duty, are you?" he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, Imogen, when did you become such a prude?"

I met his gaze squarely, refusing to back down despite the fear that churned in the pit of my stomach. "I'm not the one talking about the sanctity of vows," I replied, my voice steady. "If anyone needs a reminder of their marital obligations, it's you."

Elijah's laughter died away, replaced by a cold, calculating look. He stood up from his seat and began to approach me, his steps slow and deliberate. My heart pounded in my chest as he came closer, his presence looming over me like a dark shadow.

When he reached me, he grabbed me roughly by the neck, his fingers digging into my skin with bruising force. I gasped, but he paid no heed, his gaze fixed on my lips as he caressed them with his hands.

"You think you can demand anything from me?" he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "You think I owe you anything?"

I struggled against his grip, but it was like trying to escape the jaws of a predator. "You're the one who brought up vows," I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're the one who talks about honor and adoration. If anyone owes anything here, it's you."

Elijah chuckled again and leaned in even closer. I hated to admit how much I was enjoying this. His warm breath against my ear was almost sinful.

"You want me to fulfill my marital duty?" he growled. "That will only happen when hell freezes over."

As Elijah released my throat and turned to leave the dining room, a sense of relief washed over me.

I couldn't help but laugh, a bitter, humorless sound that echoed off the walls of the empty room. How absurd it all was, the twisted dance we performed around each other, bound together by a marriage that neither of us wanted.

But even in the bitterness, there was also a sense of liberation, a feeling of empowerment that burned through me like wildfire.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was in control of my own destiny.

It didn't matter if I sat alone at the table. I would savor the small victory.

I was going to take Isaac's hand.

"Elijah," I murmured, reaching for a glass of water. "This is just the beginning."