Chapter 4 Four

The driver's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, studying the woman beside the young master. She was breathtaking, yes, but her tight, revealing dress screamed trouble. A gold digger, he thought, or worse. He made a mental note to inform Madam Sterling at the first opportunity. The young master was too naive, too easily swayed by a pretty face.

The car glided to a stop in front of a modern apartment building. To facilitate his studies, the Sterling family had rented the entire penthouse suite for Keith, a testament to their wealth and his status as the cherished younger son.

Keith ushered Elara inside, his movements a mixture of nervousness and pride. He poured her a glass of mineral water, his voice softening. "You can stay here tonight. It's too late to find a place now. The city... it's not safe for someone like you alone. Tomorrow, I'll help you find a proper apartment."

Elara's eyes swept over the luxurious, if slightly sterile, apartment before landing on him. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on her lips. "And where will I be sleeping?"

"My room," he said, puffing his chest slightly. "I'll take the couch."

Without a word of thanks, Elara walked directly into his bedroom and closed the door. Keith, feeling a strange sense of purpose, ordered a variety of dishes from a high-end restaurant, wanting to provide for her. As he waited, his gaze kept drifting to the closed door. He imagined her resting on his bed, weary from her ordeal. Worried she might be hungry, he finally got up and, after a moment's hesitation, quietly pushed the door open.

"Hey, the food is here. You should eat something before you..." His words died in his throat.

He stood frozen in the doorway, utterly stunned. Elara had just slipped out of the tight red dress, her back to him. The smooth, flawless skin of her back was marred only by a small, intricate tattoo between her shoulder blades, resembling a celestial glyph. The dramatic curve of her waist flared into the generous swell of her hips, all leading down to long, perfectly shaped legs. At that moment, clad in nothing but a scant pair of lace underwear, her body was a breathtaking sculpture, more perfect than any he had ever seen.

Elara turned her head, her expression unnervingly calm. "Are you planning to stand there until I turn around for the full view?"

"N-no! No, of course not!" Keith stammered, scrambling backward and slamming the door shut as if burned. He leaned against the wall, his heart hammering against his ribs, the image of her bare back seared into his mind. He'd been with women before, experienced in the ways of casual flings, but nothing had prepared him for this. The sight of her alone was enough to overwhelm him, to stir a potent mix of raw desire and something akin to reverence.

This woman was different. She was a goddess, and he, a mere mortal, had fallen pathetically at her feet.

Some time later, the door opened. Elara emerged, wrapped in one of his plush bathrobes, her skin glowing as if she had just bathed.

Keith kept his head down, unable to meet her eyes. "I... the food is here. You should eat."

Elara sat and picked up the chopsticks. She ate with a focused, hearty appetite, a habit ingrained from a childhood shadowed by hunger and a marriage where she was often an afterthought. It was a trait that had once contributed to her "plain" appearance, but now, with the subtle application of the minor celestial arts she'd absorbed, it did nothing to diminish her radiance.

Watching her devour the food, Keith was taken aback. The women he knew picked at salads. He had ordered light, healthy dishes, expecting her to eat like a bird. Instead, she consumed it all with a genuine hunger that spoke of past deprivation. His heart twisted with a pang of pity. What has she been through?

When she finished, he hastily handed her a glass of water. She took it, her voice flat. "Thank you. Now, may I sleep?"

"You ate too much," he advised, concern overriding his nerves as he caught her wrist. "You shouldn't sleep right away."

Elara set the glass down and leaned in close, her body hovering over his. The robe gaped slightly, offering another tantalizing glimpse of the curves beneath. Her scent, like night-blooming flowers and ozone, enveloped him.

"Then perhaps we should do some... exercise?" she murmured, her voice a low purr.

Before he could process her words, her hand drifted down and brushed firmly against the growing tightness in his trousers. He jolted, a shockwave of sensation rendering him immobile.

Elara smirked internally. So easily aroused, just like a boy.

She straightened up, the seductive warmth vanishing from her expression as if it had never been there. "I'm tired. One unscientific night won't kill me."

She turned and walked back to the bedroom. Pausing at the door, she glanced over her shoulder. "My name is Elara."

Then she closed the door, leaving him alone.

Keith collapsed onto the sofa, his face burning, his body taut with frustrated desire. The sound of the bathroom sink running a few minutes later did little to cool his ardor. He was completely, utterly captivated.

Inside the room, Elara listened to the water run and sneered. How shallow. The same boy who tormented a plain-faced woman is now groveling before a pretty one. She had even given him her real name, a bold, mocking test. He hadn't even flinched. He had so thoroughly erased the memory of his former sister-in-law that her name meant nothing to him. The irony was perfect.

She could already picture the devastating shock on his face when he finally connected the dots. The boy who had poured water on her and called her a cow was now desperately in love with her. The poetic justice was exquisite.

The next morning, Keith woke up early. Seeing her door still closed, he assumed she was sleeping. For the first time in his pampered life, he attempted to make breakfast, clumsily arranging pastries and fruit on a platter, wanting to serve his goddess.

When everything was ready, he knocked gently on her door. "Elara? Are you awake?" Silence. He knocked again, louder. "Elara?"

A cold dread began to seep into him. He called her name once more, his voice tinged with panic. When no sound came from within, he threw caution to the wind and shoved the door open.

"Elara!"

He stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the perfectly made, empty bed. The plush bathrobe was folded neatly on the covers. She was gone. Vanished without a trace.

A profound sense of loss, sharp and immediate, lanced through him. He rushed out of the apartment and into the hallway, his eyes wildly scanning the empty corridor. A devastating realization shattered something inside him. The first woman who had ever felt like a miracle, the one he truly believed he could love, had disappeared from his life as suddenly as she had entered it, leaving him feeling used and utterly discarded.