Chapter 224 - 0224: You’re Leaving Me For Nobody

Chapter 224: Chapter 0224: You’re Leaving Me For Nobody

Jaxx’s Point Of View

The room lay quiet... too quiet, save for the soft, steady rhythm of her breath. Elena. My Elena. My fucking princess.

She sprawled across me, boneless, trusting, completely surrendered, her body pressed tight against mine, her legs tangled with mine, her hands dropped possessively over my stomach like she was claiming me even in sleep.

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched me like that... without calculation, without asking for something in return. Every other hand that had ever found me in the dark had wanted something: a signature, a favor, a piece of the empire I’d built with my teeth. Hers wanted nothing but this.

A chuckle rumbled in my chest, low and dark, amused by the way she clung to me... like I was her anchor, like she couldn’t breathe without me. Like a fucking cat. My cat.

Mine.

The word pounded through me, heavy, possessive, fucking inevitable. I watched her sleep, my gaze tracing the curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fanned against her skin, the soft part of her lips slightly open as she breathed. I’d spent years learning to read people, to find the crack in every composed face across a boardroom table.

But this was the only face I’d ever wanted to study for no reason at all. No leverage to find. No weakness to exploit. Just her.

God, she was beautiful... not just in the way she looked, but in the way she fit against me, in the way her body molded to mine like she was made for me. Like fate had carved her just to drive me fucking insane. I’d spent a decade telling myself fate was a story men told themselves after the fact, a word to dress up coincidence. Looking at her now, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

My fingers itched to touch her, always fucking itched for her.

I reached out, brushing a stray curl from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear before my hand drifted lower, tracing the line of her jaw, the delicate slope of her neck, the way her pulse fluttered beneath my fingertips... steady, alive, mine.

My thumb brushed over her bottom lip, swollen and red from my kisses, from taking my cock so fucking well.

A groan built in my chest, raw and primitive, at the memory... her mouth stretched around me, her eyes watering as she took me deep, the way she moaned like she loved it, like she needed it, like she couldn’t get enough.

Fuck.

I shifted slightly, adjusting her against me, pulling her closer until there was no space between us, no air that didn’t smell like her. My hand slid lower, over the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip, gripping just enough to feel the way her skin gave beneath my fingers.

She stirred, just a little, mumbling something soft, incoherent, her body nestling deeper into mine like she sought me even in sleep.

Then her hand moved.

Her fingers found my arm, wrapped around my wrist, and held on.

Even unconscious, even drowning in sleep, some part of her reached for me and refused to let go. Her brow creased, a small sound leaving her lips... and then, barely, half-swallowed by sleep, my name.

"Jaxx..."

My chest caved in. Ten years of careful walls, and one whispered syllable from her undid every brick. I’d built an empire on the principle that nothing reached me, that nothing could. And here she was, unconscious, dismantling it with a single breath of a word.

Careful not to break the hold, I turned, pressed my lips to her hair, and murmured against it, "I’m here, princess... I’m not going anywhere."

She exhaled... her whole body going soft again, the crease smoothing from her brow, her fingers tightening once around my wrist before she settled, her breath evening out, her face turning into my chest like I was the thing keeping the dark out.

I lay there, wrecked and silent, my heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to reach her.

That was worship. Not the kneeling kind. The kind where a man realizes the only prayer he’s ever meant was her name, and she says his back, asleep, without even knowing she’s praying.

"I’m here," I whispered again, useless, necessary. "Right here, Bambina. I’m not going anywhere."

My lips curved... dark, possessive, fucking obsessed, as I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Slow. Reverent. Like she was something sacred. Like she was my fucking religion.

"You’re just like a cat, princess." My voice emerged as a whisper, rough with amusement, with something deeper... something raw, something real. My lips brushed her temple, breathing her in, drowning in the scent of her, vanilla and me, sweet and sin, innocence and fucking ruin.

I pulled back just enough to study her again... the way her chest rose and fell, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips parted just slightly, like she was waiting for me to kiss her awake.

God, I wanted to. I wanted to wake her up and fuck her slow, to hear her moan my name like a prayer, to feel her body tremble as I made her cum again. Again. Again.

But no, she needed rest.

She needed this... the safety, the quiet, the way I held her like she was precious. And maybe, some buried part of me that I rarely let surface, needed it too... needed to know I could give her stillness instead of chaos for once. Needed to prove, if only to myself, that I wasn’t only capable of taking.

"I’m never letting you go, Elena." The words slipped out, dark and final, a vow carved into the silence between us. "I meant every single word."

My fingers drifted lower... over the smooth skin of her thigh, circling, tracing patterns that made no sense and every fucking sense at once. Slow. Deliberate. Worshipping.

I drowned in the sight of her... sleeping, trusting, mine, her chest rising and falling, her body curled into mine, her breath warm against my skin. The room faded away... the walls, the time, the fucking world, until there was only this.

Only her, only the way my heart pounded like she owned it... like she always had.

I brushed a stray curl from her forehead again, my fingers lingering on her skin, tracing the shape of her cheekbone, the line of her jaw. Her breathing stayed slow, even... too trusting for a world that had already failed her once. I watched her sleep like a man studying something fragile and priceless, cataloguing every detail as if memorizing her might keep her safe. As if vigilance alone could undo the damage someone else had already done to her.

"I know Graham to be stupid," I murmured, my voice low, dark, dripping with amusement and something colder... something possessive, something final. "But not too dumb to cheat on you."

My thumb brushed over her bottom lip, not pressing, just hovering, as if even in sleep she could feel me.

"Now I can see the old man’s genes in him."

A chuckle rumbled in my chest, dark, amused. "They’re both blind."

Blind to what they had. Blind to what they lost.

But I’m glad he did.

Not because it hurt her... never that. The thought of her hurting at all made something feral twist beneath my ribs.

Because it exposed the weakness. Because it gave me legal ground. Because it freed her from a man who never deserved her in the first place.

Call me selfish, princess...

I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead... slow, deliberate, possessive. "I’m fucking glad."

My lips curved against her skin, dark, satisfied. "Now you’re finally back where you belong."

My hand slid up, cupping her cheek, tilting her face just enough to study her... sleeping, trusting, mine.

Not taken. Not stolen. Chosen, whether she remembered choosing yet or not.

"And I’ll make sure it’s permanent."

She stirred just a little, mumbling something soft, incoherent, her body nestling deeper into the sheets, into the scent of me. Her fingers curled faintly in the fabric, like instinct already knew where safety was.

"You’re leaving me for nobody, baby."

My voice dropped to a growl, rough, final, a vow carved into the silence between us. "No one."

I pecked her lips one last time, before adjusting her against the pillows, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Mine.

The air chilled my skin as I climbed out of bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. The room felt different without her warmth pressed into me... quieter, sharper. Work mode slid back into place like a blade clicking into its sheath. I glanced back once, unable to help myself, before forcing my attention to the screen.

The screen lit up, casting shadows over the room as I dialed Roman’s number.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, boss." Roman’s voice carried amusement, half-awake and fully intrusive. "So... should I prepare champagne or a funeral?"

I paused by the window, staring out at the city lights. "Why would you need either?"

He hummed. "Because last time you were this quiet, someone cried, someone signed something, or someone disappeared."

"She’s resting."

A beat of silence.

"Resting?" Roman gasped... exaggerated, dramatic, the fucker. "What the hell did you do to her, man?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly. "Nothing she didn’t need."

"That wasn’t an answer."

A smirk tugged at my lips. "I only reminded her who she belongs to."

Roman let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Then, lighter, because that was Roman. "So... emotionally devastating reassurance or terrifying possessive speech?"

"Both."

"Classic you."

The humor faded before he could push further. I didn’t let it linger. This wasn’t about satisfaction, it was about closure, control and making sure no one ever cornered her like that again.

"The reason I called you is about Graham."

Roman straightened instantly; I could hear it in his breathing.

"He’s proving difficult about the divorce."

"And?" Roman’s tone shifted... icy, lethal, ready to obey. "What should I do to him?"

I stared at the reflection in the glass... calm, composed, deliberate. This wasn’t rage. It was inevitability.

"He lost her."

My voice turned to steel, unyielding. "And now she’s mine."

A pause.

Roman exhaled softly, reverently. "Understood."

"Nothing dramatic, Roman. Nothing that touches the papers’ validity or traces back to her. I want you to give him a push in signing the papers. Have his lawyers’ morning start with a reminder of what we have on him. If he hesitates, add pressure on his accounts. He’ll find his signature suddenly works again. And I want updates by tomorrow evening."

"And if he tries to run to her? Cry about it?"

"He can cry all he wants. But he doesn’t get to speak to her. If he comes near her - "

"I’ll handle it," Roman said, smooth as silk. "Boss... can I say something off the record?"

"You’re going to say it anyway."

"Ten years I’ve watched you keep one name locked in your jaw. You’d come back from meetings bleeding and never once mentioned a woman. Tonight you call me at 3 a.m. to talk about divorce papers like they’re a wedding announcement." A pause. "It’s good. Seeing you like this. Don’t ruin it by being you too fast."

"I’m always me."

"Yeah," he said. "That’s what worries me. Gently, boss. She’s not one of us."

"No," I agreed, my eyes drifting back to the bed, to her hand still curled in the sheets where my wrist had been. "She’s better."

"Christ," Roman muttered. "You’re gone."

"Get the papers signed, Roman."

"Consider it done. Goodnight, boss. And... congratulations, I think."

I hung up, and for a moment I simply stood there, phone loose in my hand, letting the weight of the conversation settle. Roman’s words lingered longer than I wanted to admit. Gently. As if I even knew how to be anything else with her.

The city lights blurred beyond the glass, but the only thing I could see was the reflection of the bed... of her, curled toward the edge of the mattress, toward the cold empty space where I’d been.

I set the phone down and climbed back into bed, and before I’d even settled, she found me... her body rolling into mine, her arm sliding over my stomach, her face pressing into my neck, her breath fanning across my skin as she sighed, deep and content, like something inside her had finally stopped searching.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her flush against me, my lips finding her hair.

"See, princess?" I murmured into the dark, to the woman who’d said my name in her sleep and held me like I was the thing she’d been reaching for. "I told you. I’m not going anywhere."

She made a soft sound against my throat, and her fingers curled tighter into me.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The word pulsed through me, patient and absolute, as I closed my eyes and let her breath lull me under, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t dream of control, or conquest, or the next move on a board. I just dreamed of her, still there when I woke.