Aftermath

Scene 15

Scene 15: Elsa, then

The first time he kissed her.

--

She saw him before he approached, this time—and the sight of him made her glower before he'd even opened his mouth.

What did he want?

You.

She scoffed at the reply, and how he leaned against the bookshelf, leering at her.

He was disgusting.

Am I? he asked, smiling in a distinctly pleasant way. Your sister doesn't seem to think so.

Every single thing about him repulsed her, and she kept a safe distance between them.

Well, that's a little vague, Elsa. Come on—tell me exactly what you hate about me.

Her teeth were already on edge, and she snapped them, her wrist flicking at her side.

He wanted specifics? Fine—she could do specifics when it came to him.

He was shameless, for one thing—no, lower than scum for going after her like that, behind Anna's back, and talking to her as if he knew her, following her around not once, but twice—and that was all without even getting to the reasons why he was pursuing her sister in the first place.

His smile, to her amazement, widened.

Which are?

Her nose tilted up in defiance—why didn't he tell her what they were?

He shrugged. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth.

She snorted—probably not—but he had to say it, now.

If you insist, he replied, and then paused. Well, for starters—it does have to do with money.

Her eyes narrowed at him. So he was finally admitting it?

You know about my family, I guess—how I'm the thirteenth son of Therese and Oskar Westergard, obligated to work in the family business, like you—

Yes, of course, she knew that. But what did that have to do with anything?

His eyes shuttered dark.

I want your firm to buy us out, he said without a hint of his usual, false charisma. Westergard Hotels.

She blinked, and her mouth opened for a moment—she didn't understand.

It's going under—the whole chain—but my father's too proud to admit it. He'd rather hold on until the company's gone bankrupt than sell it while it still has some market value.

He cracked his knuckles, and she watched the movement, spellbound, hardly comprehending what he was saying.

You can verify it for yourself, of course, but all the tell-tale signs are there: layoffs of the higher-ups, bills that will never be repaid on time, massive cuts in pay … He shrugged. I know it'll hurt father, but … it's for the best.

She snapped out of her daze, and as her arms tensed again, she eyed him dubiously, because his story didn't make much sense. If he was really just interested in "saving" his family's company—a motive which she didn't trust in the slightest, anyway—and needed her to buy him out, shouldn't he have gone after …

After what, Elsa? You?

She couldn't bring herself to say that—and so her throat burned instead in silence.

Admittedly, as heir to the firm, you were preferable, of course—but no one was getting anywhere with you.

His words cut her more painfully than she would admit—and made her head throb with their bluntness, with their truth.

But Anna? She's so desperate for love that she's willing to marry me just like that. And once we're married, and you've bought the chain, I'll be free from them—my father, my brothers—and with the Andersen name behind me, I'll move on to better things.

He chuckled, and she shuddered at the sound, crossing her arms—no, more like hugging them against her body—and scowled. What made him even dare to think that she would have bought out his company before, let alone after everything he'd just said?

Because it doesn't matter what kind of person I am, or what my intentions are—we both know that you'd look good, damn good if you brought this business into the fold.

He smiled knowingly, and she hated him then; she didn't need his stupid chain of hotels.

Maybe you don't think you do, but … if the board found out that you missed this golden opportunity, I don't think they'd be thrilled that you passed up on it.

His lip curled insidiously.

And neither would Anna, once I told her.

She could have spit on him, then—at least, she wanted to, and she might have actually done it, if they weren't in that damn library. As if she would ever allow him to marry her sister, after all of that—

But you will—you have to, because you know how devastated she'll be if I leave her, don't you? His gaze tightened. And for what? Because I wanted you to buy the company?

He looked far too relaxed, too casual, for the venom that was dripping from him.

Even if you tell her that's my only motivation for going after her, who do you think she'll believe when I say that's not the case? When I tell her that her sister is just being selfish, and wants her to be as miserable as she is?

She felt sick, listening to him—and her head hurt more than ever—but she felt rooted to that spot, compelled to hear all of her faults spelled out for her, because a part of her thought she deserved that much.

Don't worry, though—I don't intend to say anything like that to her, he assured her condescendingly, drawing nearer, too near. Not so long as you keep quiet, too.

She swallowed, and her lungs felt constricted as she tried to breathe normally, to ignore the strange mixture of loathing and fear and heat that bubbled in her chest as he stepped closer, closer.

His head tipped down.

Oh—and there's something else, too, that I want from you.

Every line in her face was creased and aggravated as it jerked up to meet his, realising, too late, that doing so only ensured that she could feel his breath against her cheek, against her ear, on her neck.

Her hands curled into fists, and she said, finally, that she didn't know what he was talking about.

I think you do.

Her jaw clenched as she shoved him away, her cheeks the colour of ripened apples—and she told him not to fuck with her, because—

He kissed her, forcefully, fiercely, his hand against her collar.

She slapped him, forcefully, fiercely, her hand turned bright red from the contact.

And she told him to get out.