Chapter 45 - 0045: I Am Nothing To You

Chapter 45: Chapter 0045: I Am Nothing To You

Elena’s Point Of View

For three agonizing seconds, the air between us crackled with a violent, terrifying tension. Graham looked like he was about to lose his mind completely, his jaw shaking, his body coiled tight enough to snap. I could feel the desperate, possessive war raging inside him... the urge to drag me upstairs and lock me away warring against the sudden, sickening realization that he was losing every ounce of control he had over me.

I watched it happen in real time, the way his eyes flickered between fury and something rawer, something closer to grief, as if some part of him already knew he couldn’t win this. For one strange, suspended moment, I almost pitied him. Almost.

Before he could react, I slammed both palms flat against his chest and pushed with every ounce of strength I had left.

The sudden move caught him off guard on the narrow stairs. His footing slipped, his hands flying off me as he stumbled back two steps to regain his balance, his scotch tumbler shattering against the marble floor below in a loud, echoing crash. For one heartbeat, neither of us moved.

The shattered glass glittered in the low light like something sacred and broken, a small omen of everything else about to fall apart between us. Even the house seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see which one of us would speak first.

"I saw you, Elena," he dropped, the words falling between us like heavy, jagged glass.

I stilled, every muscle in my spine going tight. A cold dread crept up my throat, slow and suffocating, because I already knew, somehow, exactly what he meant. My mind scrambled backward through the night, searching for the moment I’d been careless, the moment I’d been seen. I wanted him to see me frightened.

"What did you say?"

"I saw you at the Vespers Club," Graham snarled, his face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated venom. The veins in his neck stood out now, his eyes bloodshot, wild with a raw, consuming jealousy that was practically suffocating the air out of the foyer. "I followed you. I wanted to drag you back home before you embarrassed yourself, and what do I see? I see my wife... my wife, in the VIP lounge, locked in the arms of another man. Making out with him right in front of the entire fucking room!"

The air left my lungs in a sharp gasp, but before I could even formulate a reply, his hand shot out, his fingers digging into my arm with an agonizing, possessive grip that pinned me against the wooden railing.

His touch used to make me feel safe once, anchored. Now it only made my skin crawl, every nerve screaming at me to run. I hated how quickly the memory of safety could curdle into something so much like fear.

"You were making out with another man right in front of me!" he roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings like a crack of thunder. "You’re my woman, Elena! You’re my fucking wife, not some cheap whore parading herself around for public entertainment!"

Slap.

The sound cracked sharp and loud through the quiet house. My hand flew back, the palm burning from the impact where it had slammed flat across his cheek. His head snapped to the side, his jaw tight, a red mark blooming instantly against his pale skin. For a moment, I almost didn’t recognize my own hand, as if some braver, angrier version of myself had reached out and acted before I could stop her. A strange, fierce satisfaction rose in my chest, quickly swallowed by fear of what came next.

I stood there, gasping for air, my hand trembling violently. "Don’t you dare call me that. Don’t you ever call me that!"

Graham didn’t back down. Slowly, agonizingly, he turned his head back to face me. The glare in his eyes was lethal now - a dark, possessive madness that made the air freeze in my throat. He didn’t even touch his bruised cheek. He just stepped right back into my space, shoving his body against mine until my back pressed flat against the banister. I could feel the frantic drumbeat of my own pulse hammering beneath my skin, terror and defiance tangled together until I could no longer tell them apart.

"You fucking kissed him!" he spat through clenched teeth, his hands coming up to grab both sides of my face, his thumbs pressing hard into my jawline, forcing my head up. "You let him put his hands on you! You let him touch what’s mine! Why the fuck would you do that, Elena?! Answer me!"

"For the exact same reason you slept with another woman in our bed!" I screamed right back into his face, my tears finally spilling over, hot and bitter against his thumbs. "You think you can destroy me and I won’t tear your goddamn world down in return?!"

Graham’s chest heaved violently against mine, his breath ragged, smelling heavily of alcohol and toxic rage. "You’re mine," he growled, his voice breaking with an unhinged, desperate possessiveness. "You belong to me. And I’m going to remind you."

Before I could pull away, his mouth slammed down on mine.

It was a punishment. A hard, brutal, suffocating kiss meant to stake a claim, to erase the trace of another man’s touch from my skin. His hands tangled violently into my hair, pulling my head back as his lips crushed mine with a desperate, terrifying force. He pressed his entire weight against me, pinning my hips to the cold wood of the stairs, suffocating every gasp of air before it could leave my lungs.

And for a second... for one terrible, humiliating second, my body surrendered.

It was Graham. The man I had loved since I was seventeen years old. The man whose touch was etched into my muscle memory after ten years together and five years of marriage. My mouth softened under his out of sheer, conditioned habit. My hands, which had been raised to push him away, hovered helplessly against his chest, my mind drowning in the familiar warmth of his scent, the tragic memory of who we used to be.

There was a time when this same mouth had whispered promises against my skin, when his hands had felt like home instead of a cage. Some small, wounded part of me still mourned that boy, even as the man he’d become tightened his grip like a warning.

I hated myself a little, for how easily my body still remembered him, even as my heart had already begun the slow work of forgetting.

The kiss stretched on, agonizingly slow, deep and possessive, pulling me into a dark whirlpool of history and regret.

Then, behind my closed eyes, the dark room shifted.

The memory of Graham’s touch shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. A different face flashed wildly through my mind.

Jaxx.

The dark, predatory gleam in his eyes under the golden chandelier. The dangerous, heavy weight of his body trapping me against the office door. The calloused roughness of his hands on my hips, pulling me into a fire that made my blood sing instead of rot.

"Be the fire."

My eyes snapped open. The illusion was gone. The man kissing me wasn’t the boy I had fallen in love with... he was my jailer. He was the man who had let his mother kick me out of our room, while another woman slept in my bed. The realization hit me like ice water, washing away every last trace of that treacherous softness. Whatever ghost of tenderness had lingered a moment ago died completely, leaving only clarity in its place.

A sharp, violent gasp tore through my throat, breaking the seal of his lips.

"Get off me!" I shrieked, every ounce of strength in my body igniting at once. I slammed both palms flat against his chest and shoved him back with everything I had left in my soul.

Graham wasn’t expecting the sheer force of my fury. His feet slipped on the narrow step, his hands flying off my waist as he stumbled back three paces, knocking against the heavy wooden banister. The crystal glass resting on the railing tipped over, crashing onto the marble floor below in a loud, shattering explosion of sharp glass and amber liquor.

He stood on the lower step, breathing heavily, his lips swollen, his eyes wide with a mixture of absolute shock and wounded pride as he stared up at me.

"Elena..." he gasped out, reaching a hand toward me.

"Don’t touch me!" I hissed, backing up two steps, my chest heaving, my bottom lip trembling as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, erasing every trace of his kiss. "Don’t you ever lay your hands on me again."

"You’re my wife..."

"I am nothing to you!" I yelled, my voice ringing clear and deadly through the grand foyer. "You destroyed us, Graham! You killed whatever was left of this marriage the second you let her into our bed. And if you think a kiss is going to fix that, you are completely out of your goddamn mind."

I didn’t wait for his response. I grabbed the hem of my violet silk dress, turned on my heel, and bolted up the remaining stairs.

"Elena! Get back here!" His thundering roar echoed behind me, followed by the heavy, chaotic sound of his leather shoes stomping up the stairs in pursuit.

I sprinted down the long, dimly lit carpeted hallway toward the guest wing, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs. I reached the room at the very end, threw the heavy door open, scrambled inside, and slammed it shut just as his body crashed hard against the outside panel.

I flipped the heavy brass lock into place.

Click.

"Elena! Open this fucking door right now!" Graham roared from the other side, throwing his shoulder against the solid wood, making the frame rattle violently. "We are not done talking about this! Do you hear me?! Open the door!"

I didn’t answer him. I stepped back, my chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged hitches, my entire body trembling with adrenaline. My legs felt like they might give out beneath me at any moment. Every pound of his fist against the door sent a fresh jolt of panic through my veins.

"You’re my wife!" he screamed, pounding his fist against the wood three more times before his heavy footsteps finally began to pace back and forth outside. "You hear me?! You are mine!"

I ignored his muted shouting, turning away from the door as I slowly slid down the smooth wooden surface until my knees hit the floor. I pulled my legs tight against my chest, burying my face in my hands as the deafening silence of the room settled around me, broken only by the ragged sound of my own breathing.

My heart was beating so hard it felt like it might break a rib. My skin still burned where Graham had grabbed me, but beneath that anger, beneath the lingering terror of what my life had become, another heat thrummed in my blood, quieter but no less demanding. I hated how easily my thoughts betrayed me, how quickly fear could give way to something far more dangerous.

A face flashed behind my eyelids.

Not Graham’s.

Jaxx.

I saw the wicked, dangerous glint in his dark eyes under the golden lights of his office. I felt the rough, calloused weight of his hands framing my waist, pulling me against his heavy body until there was no air left between us. I felt the brutal, possessive heat of his mouth slamming over mine, claiming me with a terrifying confidence that made my knees feel impossibly weak.

"Don’t forget to call me, princess."

"I’m so going to enjoy changing your mind."

I pressed my back against the locked door, my breath catching in my throat as a shiver ran straight down my spine. Jaxx wasn’t offering me a simple escape. He was offering me an army. He was a monster from my past who wanted to tear my husband’s world down brick by brick... and God help me, he wanted me as his prize.

Some reckless, hungry part of me wanted to let him. I wondered, not for the first time that night, what kind of woman I was becoming.

I reached into the small clutch purse resting beside my knee. My shaking fingers brushed against the thick, metallic edge of the black card he had pressed into my palm before I left. It felt colder than I remembered, heavier too, as if it carried the full weight of the decision waiting on the other side of it.

I pulled it out, staring at the sleek silver numbers gleaming in the dark room.

My heart pounded a frantic, terrifying rhythm in my chest, split down the middle between absolute ruin and dirty, dark desire.

I closed my eyes tight, pressing the cold edge of the card against my trembling lower lip, and whispered softly into the quiet darkness of the locked room, the words barely audible even to myself.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"