IMOGEN'S POV
I forced myself to focus on the other women, exchanging pleasantries and introductions, though my mind was racing with questions.
"Wow, you two lovebirds won't stop latching on each other." One woman commented. "The honeymoon phase is the best part of marriage. I would know."
I didn't know her. But if she was in the midst of these women and in that kind of dress, she was rich enough to have a seat at the table whether she was born into it or married into it.
The other women laughed to it. Lana seemed incredibly proud of hearing them say that about us.
This was the effect Elijah wanted. Now that I was here amid these women sipping margaritas and cocktails. I got it. If you wanted to kill a ruthless story your brother had spun, this was the place to do it.
If we could show these women how happy and in love we were, then whatever the journalists and paparazzi were looking for would not matter.
If Elijah was going to use me, I intended to use him as well. I had no idea what Deborah was doing here, but I could tell she could not stand the sight of us together.
It was the vein threatening to pop out of her head. It was the way she held on to her glass so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
My body relaxed, and I leaned into Elijah's shoulder. We fit. Like a puzzle piece.
His body had a reaction. It was as if a horse were trying to shake off a stubborn fly that it could easily swat off but couldn't because its body wasn't built that way. But I ignored it.
"You have no idea how much I want the honeymoon phase to end. But Elijah is a romantic. I'm afraid I'll just have to get used to princess treatment."
Their eyes widened upon hearing that. Many out of happiness for me. But Deborah's eyes sunk inside, and her hands tightened even more around her cup.
Elijah's body detached from mine upon seeing Deborah's reaction. He jokingly said, "I'd love to stay, but I don't want to meddle in society women's business."
The women chuckled and reassured him. "We don't mind! You can stay. But we'd love to have Imogen to ourselves."
Elijah turned to go, but I refused to let go of his hand. He looked at me, disturbed. I made eye contact with Deborah before meeting his gaze.
"You forgot to give me a goodbye kiss," I said sweetly.
Elijah chuckled nervously. "Not here," he whispered.
"Why not?" I insisted. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. We're married now." I added pointedly, "Some cruel photographer could be hiding somewhere, waiting for the right time to take a picture they could spin to their narrative."
Elijah's eyes flicked towards Deborah for the briefest moment. I leaned in until my lips were inches from his ear. "Is there a problem?"
He swallowed hard, visibly tense.
"I have to go," he whispered, as a brief, innocent kiss gently brushed my cheek before he withdrew and hurried away, leaving behind an atmosphere thick with unease.
I watched him go, a smile playing on my lips as I turned back to the women. Their eyes were alight with curiosity and admiration. Deborah's face, on the other hand, was a mask of barely contained rage. The balance of power had shifted, even if just slightly, and I intended to take full advantage of it.
Lana gestured to a chair beside her. "Imogen, please, sit down."
I took the seat, trying to mask my anxiety as best as I could. Lana began speaking with the poise and confidence that only years of wealth and influence could bestow.
"The Portland Women Society is an association for women like us," she began, her voice warm and welcoming. "It's a place where we find the support system we deserve. We've been through so much together, and it's a privilege to welcome you into our fold."
She introduced the women one by one, her voice smooth and practiced. "This is Evelyn Harper, a philanthropist and one of our most active members. Next to her is Camilla Townsend, who runs one of the largest fashion houses in the state. On her left is Beatrice White, known for her art collections and charity work. And, of course, you already know Victoria Sutton."
I nodded, my gaze flickering to Victoria. Of course, I knew Victoria Sutton. She was the daughter of a tech billionaire who owned 'The Sutton Brothers.'
"The beautiful girl with us today is Deborah Sutton. She is new like you. Her cousin Victoria Sutton had invited her to join the fold."
The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together.
I was about to introduce myself when one of the women interrupted. Camilla Townsend. She took a sip of her margarita before speaking.
"There's no need for introductions, darling. Everyone knows who you are. The apple of Lana Rossi's eyes, the Imogen Rossi. You have no idea how lucky you are."
I turned to her, trying to place her name with her face. Her eyes were sharp, assessing me.
"People of our caliber always go for their kind. I even wanted Elijah to be set up with my daughter, but Lana was adamant about her dreams for her boy. Now that I see you in person, I see what she saw in you. You're pretty, the rare kind. Your kids will be beautiful."
I forced a smile and said, "Thank you."
A waiter approached and asked if I would like anything to drink. I needed something light, something that would help me keep my wits about me. "I'll have a mocktail, please."
As the waiter left, Lana chuckled, looking toward the entrance. "Look who decided to finally leave the restroom. I was almost getting worried for you."
"Don't mind me," retorted a familiar voice. "It must be my nerves."
The tone struck a chord deep within me, and I turned to face the speaker. My heart skipped a beat. There, standing in a similar designer dress, was my mother. She gracefully made her way to the empty chair beside me.
"Imogen," she said, her eyes locking onto mine, "you finally decided to join us."
I couldn't hide my shock. "Mother," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Lana's eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched the scene unfold. "I thought it would be a nice surprise to invite your mother, dear. After all, what better support system could you ask for?"
I swallowed hard, trying to compose myself. My mother's presence here was the last thing I expected. The dynamic of the table shifted, and I felt every pair of eyes on me, waiting for my next move.
"It's...good to see you, Mother," I managed to say, keeping my voice steady.
She smiled, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The pleasure is mine, darling. Let's make the most of this opportunity, shall we?"
I found something off though. Mother's gait and the way she acted around these women did not look like she was fresh blood like me or Deborah the homewrecker and Deborah being a Sutton meant gatherings like this was not new to her.
As I nodded, the waiter returned with my mocktail. I took a long sip, the cool drink soothing my dry throat. This was not how I envisioned the day going, but I knew I had to adapt quickly. The games we played in this world were complex, and every move mattered.
Once again, Lana assumed control of the conversation, skillfully steering it toward more lighthearted subjects. Nevertheless, the tension persisted among myself, my mother, and Deborah.
The woman understood the challenges I faced after marrying into the Rossi family. At first, it seemed like she had abandoned me to deal with this cruel fate, perhaps due to the shame of losing the status that came with marrying into the Rossi family. But the reality was far more distressing. My mom was willing to let me endure an unhappy marriage as long as it meant that she became and stayed a part of high society.
I felt betrayed and helpless. Because it translated to one thing.
I was sold to the Rossi house.