The Night He Chose Her, I Chose My Revenge Chapter 11

The Night He Chose Her, I Chose My Revenge Chapter 11

He pressed his lips together, his gaze shifting to Penelope as she moved effortlessly among the guests, a glass of champagne in hand.

The angle of every smile, every compliment she offered, seemed measured with a ruler.

Impeccable.

And utterly tiresome.

Julian decided that once this storm passed, he would send Penelope away.

He would take care of everything, then go back to Elara and make things right.

“Mother, don’t worry,” he said quietly to Catherine, forcing his voice to sound controlled. “I know what I’m doing.”

The dinner began, the long table laden with exquisite dishes.

When a server presented a platter of Texas-style smoked brisket, Julian’s stomach clenched.

That familiar, smoky scent, wild and unapologetic, was a key that instantly unlocked a memory he had sealed away.

The unease returned, stronger this time.

He cut the food on his plate, but his mind was elsewhere.

He suddenly remembered the first time he’d met Elara.

It was at a charity equestrian event. His vintage Jaguar had broken down on a muddy road. He was irritably calling for a tow truck when Elara, without a second thought, took off her jacket and crawled under the car to inspect the chassis.

Half an hour later, the engine roared to life.

Her face was smeared with black oil, but her smile was brighter than the Texas sun.

“Fixed,” she’d said. “The old guy was just throwing a little tantrum.”

Julian’s heart began to beat erratically.

He suddenly stood, his napkin sliding to the floor.

“Julian?” Penelope hurried after him, her face a perfect mask of concern. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer.

He grabbed his car keys from the entryway table and rushed out.

He drove through the hurricane-ravaged streets, searching every place Elara might have gone: the galleries she liked, the café she frequented, the seaside park where they used to walk.

He searched them all.

But there was nothing but broken branches and wreckage.

Her apartment was empty, too.

He slammed his fist into the steering wheel. The leather gave a dull thud.

For the first time, a panic he had never known seized him.

She hadn’t taken a thing.

Where could she have gone?