Chapter 20
Elena spent the next three days alone in the hospital.
The caregiver Adaline had promised never appeared, not even on the day she was discharged.
After settling the bill herself, Elena turned and spotted, not far away, a flawless couple standing shoulder to shoulder.
Annabelle skipped over, clutching Elena’s hand with practiced intimacy and chirped, “Elena, you look so much better! I’m thrilled. Victor and I came especially to take you home.”
Elena yanked her hand back at once.
Victor Whitmore approached, brows knitting. “We’re doing you a favor by picking you up-try showing a little gratitude.”
Head lowered, Elena answered coolly, “The scars on my hands are ugly. I wouldn’t want to dirty Miss Bennett’s fingers.”
Victor’s gaze dropped to the backs of her hands, and his pupils tightened. The wounds were indeed unsightly, though the suppurating flesh had scabbed over; once the scabs fell away the skin might look much better.
“Let’s go,” he said curtly.
Annabelle hooked her arm through Victor’s and deliberately walked a step ahead of Elena.
By the car door Victor added icily, “Annabelle and I need to try on evening gowns. You’ll come with us; afterward I have the driver take
you
home.”
So they were heading to a gown boutique-no wonder Annabelle insisted on fetching her. No one knew better than Annabelle how fiercely Elena had once loved Victor, and how to twist that knife.
“With respect, President Whitmore,” Elena said, still looking at the ground, “I’ll take a cab.”
She turned to leave, and Victor’s jaw clenched into a hard, cold line.
Annabelle darted after her and grabbed her arm. “Elena, why bother calling a taxi? I came just for you.”
“We haven’t talked in ages, and I need your opinion on which gown suits me best. Please come with me-just this once.”
She shook Elena’s injured arm in a girlish plea.
Pain shot through Elena’s wounded arm; she frowned and jerked free without hesitation.
“Elena Bennett!” Victor loosened his tie, his face dark as a storm. “This is my final warning-stop testing my patience.”
Ever since she had rejected their engagement that night, the sight of her frost-pale face had driven him into a rage. From the moment she emerged she’d worn that same mask; he longed to rip it off.
Meeting his stare, Elena’s lips twitched into a fragile, lopsided smile.
She drew a slow breath, glanced coldly at Annabelle, and said, “Fine, I’ll go.”
She pulled open the door and slipped onto the back seat while, up front, Annabelle Bennett and Victor Whitmore occupied the driver and passenger
spots.
ནོ་ནོན་རྟེན་ཁོར་
Throughout the ride Annabelle chirped like a sparrow, calling, “Brother Victor, Brother Victor,” again and again; their fingers were laced together and rested intimately on the gearshift.
When the car rotted to a halt in the underground garage, Elena Bennett was the first to get out, stepping aside in silence.
Chapter 20
Victor climbed out as well, circled to the passenger side, and courteously opened the door for Annabelle.
Annabelle cast Elena a sideways glance, the corner of her mouth lifting. Reaching both arms toward Victor, she cooed, “Victor, I don’t feel like walking anymore-carry me.”
Victor offered no comment, he merely bent his long frame and scooped her into his arms.
Cradled against his chest, Annabelle shot Elena a provocative smile as they passed.
Elena stood where she was, watching their retreating backs.
Once, she too had acted coy with Victor like that-only…
