The sun had set, casting long, dark shadows across the dining room of the Mitchell penthouse.
Elena sat at the end of the massive mahogany table. The crystal chandelier above cast a warm, flickering light over the silver platters. She stared down at the plate of escargot the chef had prepared, her stomach rolling with physical nausea.
The heavy front door clicked open.
Cooper walked into the foyer, shrugging off his tailored suit jacket. He looked exhausted, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped into the dining room.
Elena took a deep breath. She smoothed the muscles in her face, forcing the coldness out of her eyes. She replaced it with a soft, slightly pathetic look of submission.
She stood up, walking over to him, and reached out to take his jacket.
Cooper flinched slightly, stepping back. He stared at her, his dark eyes scanning her face for any sign of the hysterical, screaming woman from the cathedral.
Elena lowered her eyelashes, avoiding his direct gaze.
"Dinner is getting cold," she said softly, her voice meek.
Cooper's tense shoulders instantly dropped. A wave of relief washed over his face. He let out a long breath, handing her the jacket. He thought she had broken. He thought the reality of his power had finally crushed her rebellion.
They sat at opposite ends of the long table. The only sound in the room was the sharp clink of silver forks against porcelain plates.
Cooper took a sip of his Cabernet. He looked at her, his tone dripping with arrogant condescension.
"I saw the charge on the Black Card," Cooper said smoothly. "Did you buy enough skincare? If you like it, buy more. Don't look at the price tags."
Elena sneered internally, but outwardly, she bit her lower lip, looking down at her lap like a scolded child. She nodded slowly.
She placed her fork down, her knuckles turning completely white under the table. The very thought of apologizing to the man who had stolen her father's life felt like swallowing broken glass. A wave of intense nausea twisted her stomach, and she had to dig her fingernails violently into her own palms just to keep from leaping across the table and driving her steak knife into his chest. She forced the bitter taste of bile down her throat, taking a deep breath as if gathering her courage.
"Cooper," she started, pitching her voice into a fragile, pathetic tremor she barely recognized. The words felt like poison on her tongue. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have cornered you at the funeral. I know... I know Daisy saved your life when you were kids. I know you have a responsibility to her."
Cooper's hand froze halfway to his mouth. A flash of genuine guilt crossed his eyes. His defenses completely crumbled.
He reached across the table, his large hand covering hers.
"I'm glad you understand, Elena," he said, his voice dropping into a gentle, patronizing purr. "You are Mrs. Mitchell. Nothing changes that."
His skin felt like a burning iron against hers. Every cell in her body screamed to pull away, to grab the steak knife and drive it through his hand.
Instead, Elena turned her hand over and gently squeezed his fingers.
"But Cooper," she murmured, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "I'm going crazy sitting in this house all day. I need a distraction."
Cooper's brow furrowed slightly. The suspicion returned. "What kind of distraction?"
"Julian Croft has a gallery opening in SoHo next month," she lied effortlessly. "He asked if I could come in and help organize the guest lists. Just running errands. It would get me out of the house."
The tension vanished from Cooper's face. A gallery assistant. It was a meaningless, trivial hobby. It would keep her busy and stop her from obsessing over Celeste.
He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the sleek metal Amex Black Card, and slid it across the polished wood toward her.
"Go," Cooper said generously. "Don't exhaust yourself. If the gallery needs a sponsorship check, tell your boss to call my assistant."
Elena stared at the black metal card. It was the key to her freedom.
"Thank you, husband," she smiled sweetly, slipping the card into her pocket.
Cooper smiled, thoroughly satisfied with his tamed pet. He stood up, walking around the table. He leaned down and pressed a dry, perfunctory kiss to the top of her head.
"I have a video conference with Tokyo," he said. "Go to sleep early."
He turned and walked down the hall. The heavy door of his study clicked shut.
The second the latch caught, the sweet, submissive smile vanished from Elena's face. Her features turned to absolute stone.
She grabbed her linen napkin and scrubbed the back of her hand where he had touched her. She rubbed the fabric against her skin so hard and so violently that a raw, red welt appeared.
She threw the napkin onto the plate.
Phase one was complete. She had her alibi. Now, she needed the ammunition.
Elena stood up, her eyes fixed on the hallway leading to the study.
