Eleanor Pov
I had to hold it together. Again. Like I always did.
Just like I did the night of the inauguration, when the cameras caught every blink, every breath. Just like at the gala, when he approached Devon while my spine ached from the heels I wore too long for the image we curated. Composure had become my armour. My weapon. My curse.
I swallowed hard and smoothed the lapel of my tailored navy suit, fingers trembling only slightly before I tucked them away behind that polished exterior. God, this suit. It had been hand-stitched for today's custom silk lining, sharp, feminine silhouette, the colour of midnight thunder. It gave the illusion of control, power, and poise.
But no fabric, no tailoring, could prepare me for what stood before me.
Jim Halvorsen.
My history. My mistake. My nemesis.
He stood tall, smug in that politician's way of smiling without showing teeth. Still the same arrogant tilt to his chin. The same calculating blue eyes. I hated that I could still feel the echo of his touch before he even raised his hand.
"Hello, Mr. Halvorsen," I said, careful that my smile painted in something that might pass for sweet, but it was hollow, dipped in disdain. He extended his hand. I took it, only because not taking it would have meant giving him something—power, a reaction.
But when he leaned in and pressed his lips to the back of my hand with that mock-chivalry he thought charming, I snatched it back.
"That won't be necessary," I said coolly, wiping the touch off against my thigh, subtle but intentional.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
"How's Rose? Your wife," I asked, tone light but razor-edged. A gentle reminder, you are married, Jim. That name alone was a blade.
He chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. "Rose is… tolerable."
God, of course she was.
"And the kids?" he asked then, voice lower now, deliberate. Not your kids. How are the children? Just: "And the kids?"
My body tensed.
I knew what he was doing. Every word chosen, every pause laced with implication. He wasn't asking. He was poking. Prodding. Inviting the ghost into the room.
I met his eyes steadily. "They're doing great. Thriving. Thanks for asking." My voice didn't waver, not anymore. Not in front of him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Jimmie's presence shift. Always there. Always watching. Silent, but attentive.
"Ma'am, we need to leave in 30. Mrs. Lee just called to confirm," Jimmie said from behind me, measured and respectful.
I gave a slight nod and turned, about to step away from Jim when..
"We need to talk, Eleanor."
The way he said it stopped me cold.
It wasn't a suggestion. It wasn't even a request.
It was a dare.
Something in the tone, dark, heavy with intent, wrapped itself around my spine like ice.
I didn't turn around immediately. Not yet. Composure. Breathe. Remember who you are.
He leaned in slightly. "I won't take much of your time... unless, of course, you want me to." That voice was low, familiar in a way I wished it wasn't.
I turned back and gave him the look he knew well. That don't-you-dare glare I'd perfected for men like him. Especially him.
"Jimmie, excuse us."
He hesitated just a flicker, but then he stepped back. Still within earshot, barely. Just far enough to respect the boundary I set. Or the illusion of it.
I turned on Jim fully now, fire surging beneath my skin.
"What are you doing, Jim? What do you want?"
He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just smiled that infuriating, smug, I-know-something-you-don't smile.
He stepped closer, too close. Close enough I could smell his cologne, the same damn scent he used to leave on my pillowcase.
"That fiery energy... You know I never could get enough of it, Elly."
The pet name landed like a slap.
I pushed him away, not hard, but firmly. "What is this? I told you it's over. We ended this. Years ago. What part of that do you not understand?"
"The part where you pretend like it didn't mean anything." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You can drop the act, Elly. It's just us here. No cameras. No husband. No witnesses."
He reached for a single strand of my curled hair, the one that had slipped free from the velvet bow tied neatly at the back of my head. He touched it like it was sacred.
"I miss you. I miss us."
"Well, don't." My voice cracked like thunder. "This.." I gestured between us, my hands trembling now, barely contained. "This should never have existed."
"But it did." His voice rose now. "And we both know we enjoyed every second. We have proof of that, don't we?"
And there it was.
I grabbed his tie, fisting it tight, yanking him closer rage flaring.
"Do. Not. Talk. About. My. Children." My teeth clenched. "Not in that tone. Not ever."
He didn't back down. "But they're mine, aren't they?"
I froze. The air between us went still. No one moved. Not even the walls dared to echo back.
Slowly, I released the tie, smoothing it down out of habit, out of a desperate need for control.
"Is that what this is about? Are you blackmailing me now?"
Jim smirked. "Never, Elly. You and I... we both have too much to lose. That secret is our silent pact. And I intend to keep it that way unless circumstances change."
"Then why are you here?" I snapped, eyes narrowing.
His gaze pierced mine. There was a moment, just one, where his facade slipped. And I saw it. The desperation behind the arrogance.
Then he said it.
Quiet. Lethal.
"I need your help to take down Devon James. Your husband."
I stared at him. Then I laughed. Laughed like a woman unravelling thread by thread.
"You need me... to take down Devon? My husband?" I scoffed. "What do you take me for, Jim? A fool?"
"No. Never. You're the smartest woman I know. Too smart to not see the truth... that the man you're married to isn't who you think he is."
I stilled.
A chill crept down my back.
"What are you trying to say?"
"What if I told you... You've been lied to your whole life?"
I stared at him like he was a madman. "Whatever game you're playing, leave me out of it. I won't be your pawn. I won't be part of your scheme to destroy my husband."
I made sure he heard that my. Let it hang there.
Jim leaned closer again, lowering his voice like he was peeling open a wound.
"This isn't a game, Eleanor. You have no idea how deep this runs. But with your help... we can both survive what's coming."
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.
"Meet me at Villa da Sig."
I flinched. That name—Villa da Sig. I hadn't heard it in years. One of our hideouts. One of those places was soaked in regret and reckless passion.
"You're disgusting." My voice shook now, not from weakness, but rage.
"And if I don't?" I added, defiant.
He shrugged. "Then you might regret it. And worse, you'll go down with him."
The room spun slightly. I hated him. Or, I think I do. But I had known him long enough to recognise when he wasn't bluffing.
From behind the cotton veil, a sound.
Jimmie.
"Ma'am? Sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Lee just called again. We need to leave."
I swallowed hard. Rebuilt my face. Calm. In control.
"Thank you, Jimmie. I'm coming."
As his footsteps receded, Jim stepped close one final time, brushing a finger along my cheek in that hauntingly familiar way that used to disarm me.
"And Elly? There's more to your assistant than meets the eye."
I froze. What?
My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean…"
"Poor Elly," he whispered with a grin. "So much you don't know... Meet me there, and I'll tell you just how much of a lie your marriage has been."
I stormed out of the booth. The heavy velvet curtain swayed behind me like a heartbeat.
But his words clung to me like smoke.
And worse, deep down in the pit of my soul, I wanted to know.