Romance

Elena's Point Of View
“And where do you think you’re coming from, Elena?”
His voice froze me mid-step, sharp and dripping with authority, that same cold entitlement that used to send a shiver through me… not the good kind.
I turned slowly, hand still on the staircase railing. Graham stood a few feet away, in a grey shirt rolled up to his elbows and black slacks, like he’d just come from a photo shoot for 'Controlling Husbands Monthly'. His jaw was clenched, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingers. The veins on his arm bulged like he was barely holding it together.
I raised a brow, brushing my fingers through my hair, still slightly tousled from the wind and Jaxx’s intoxicating proximity earlier. “Is that how you greet your wife now? With an interrogation?”
He took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing. “Answer me.”
I scoffed and descended the remaining steps, heels clicking against the

Elena's Point Of View
A sharp, splitting pain thundered in my skull like drums from hell.
“Mmmgh,” I groaned sharply, my voice hoarse, dry, like sandpaper scraping against wood. The light from the window sliced across my face with cruel sharpness, forcing my eyes shut.
“Graham,” I mumbled in protest, my voice barely a whisper, “close the windows, please…” I groaned again, louder this time, hoping he’d hear and move. My limbs ached, my temples throbbed, and my mouth tasted like regret.
Silence.
I turned over, dragging the covers over my head like a cocoon, seeking refuge from the merciless daylight. “Baby?” I whispered again.
Still nothing.
“Graham?” My voice rose, touched with confusion this time. No answer. No footsteps. No rustling from the bathroom. Nothing but the eerie stillness that clung to the room like static.
Frowning, I peeled the covers off my face, forcing my eyes open with 

Jaxx's Point Of View
She was gone.
The door clicked shut behind her with a soft, almost mocking finality, and still, I didn’t move. My eyes stayed glued to that spot. That one damn spot where she’d just been standing. Like if I stared hard enough, she might reappear, maybe say something else that would cut me, tease me, tempt me, destroy me.
Elena.
Her name rolled through my mind like a thunderclap, sharp and heavy, shaking loose everything I thought I’d buried. Everything I pretended didn’t matter anymore.
But it did.
She did.
A slow, dangerous smirk twisted my lips, not the charming kind. No, this one was hollow, crooked, bitter… soaked in a dark kind of satisfaction. The kind that coils in your gut and tells you something's coming. Something ugly.
She hated me.
Fucking hell, she loathed me.
And I could feel it. Taste it. The venom in her glare, the rigid tension in her voice, the fire in her touch when she shoved me away… God, it was intoxicating. She burned hotter than ever. A woman scorned, angry, desperate, cornered.
And there was something so alive about her now. I could’ve laughed. I almost did.
“You still burn, don’t you, Elena?” I whispered to no one, voice low, hoarse, like gravel dragged across stone.
Helping her? Helping her get her husband back? Please.
I barked out a cold laugh and ran a hand through my hair, pacing toward the window, slow, measured. Like a predator letting his prey run just far enough before the real hunt began.
She wanted her marriage fixed? Cute.
I’d rather set it on fire. I wasn’t helping her fix anything. If anything, I’d make damn sure her marriage crashed and burned into oblivion. If I had my way.. and I always did… they’d be signing divorce papers before the month ended.
I turned to the bar, poured myself a drink… neat, sharp, unforgiving, and downed it like water. The burn did nothing to numb me. Didn’t even touch the storm swirling under my skin.
Elena Sinclair.
Elena fucking Sinclair.
It had been eleven years. Eleven fucking years since he last saw her. Since she’d been part of the reason he left this goddamn city.
But nothing… nothing could’ve prepared me for the moment she walked through that door again. Now she was back in my orbit. Back in my space. Back in my grip.
He walked over to the bar in the corner, poured himself a glass of whisky, and took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle deep in his gut. But not even the burn of aged liquor could drown the thoughts racing through his mind.
She wasn’t what he expected.
Not even close
Graham had always talked about her like she was dull wallpaper… uninteresting, colorless, a plain, lifeless housewife. He’d painted her with such drab brushstrokes that I almost believed him.
Almost.
But the woman who stood in front of me tonight? That wasn’t the Elena, Graham had been talking about.
No, this woman still had fire in her eyes. Not just anger… but passion, raw and dangerous. That same fire that had drawn me to her eleven years ago.
My tongue darted out to lick the last drop of whisky from my lips as a new thought formed… a darker one.
That kiss.
God.
I closed my eyes briefly, replaying it in slow, torturous detail… the softness of her lips, the tremble in her breath, the way her body had folded into mine without a second of resistance. She hated me, yes, but her body? Her body still knew me. Still remembered.
That wasn’t just a kiss.
It was a memory come alive. A taste of something I’d once wanted… and now wanted more than ever.
But this time, I didn’t just want a kiss. I didn’t just want a taste. No, I wanted all of it. Every inch of her.
Her sharp tongue, her anger, her resistance, her submission, her fire, her sighs, her cries… I wanted it all. I wanted to unmake every part of her and put her back together piece by piece… with my name stamped into every corner of her soul.
I poured another drink, didn’t sip it this time. Just held it, staring out into the night. She thinks she still has a choice. She thinks this deal is about her getting Graham back.
But she’s wrong.
So wrong.
Because I have no intention of letting her go. Not again. Not after the way she looked at me tonight. Not after that kiss. Not after the storm she stirred inside me.
No.
This wasn’t about helping her. This was about taking her for myself. Every piece of her.
Was I obsessed? Maybe.
Would I stop? Not a chance.
Not when she’d walked into my den willingly. I’d burn every last bridge, every contract, every vow she ever made to that spineless bastard just to make sure she stayed right where she belonged.
With me.
A slow breath escaped me as I whispered into the silence of the room, voice rough, quiet, dark.
“You came to me yourself, Elena…”
I closed my eyes, letting the words settle deep into my chest like a vow.
“…and now that you’re here, I’m never letting you leave.”

Elena's Point Of View
“And where do you think you’re coming from, Elena?”
His voice froze me mid-step, sharp and dripping with authority, that same cold entitlement that used to send a shiver through me… not the good kind.
I turned slowly, hand still on the staircase railing. Graham stood a few feet away, in a grey shirt rolled up to his elbows and black slacks, like he’d just come from a photo shoot for 'Controlling Husbands Monthly'. His jaw was clenched, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingers. The veins on his arm bulged like he was barely holding it together.
I raised a brow, brushing my fingers through my hair, still slightly tousled from the wind and Jaxx’s intoxicating proximity earlier. “Is that how you greet your wife now? With an interrogation?”
He took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing. “Answer me.”
I scoffed and descended the remaining steps, heels clicking against the marble like war drums. “Out. I was out, Graham. Not that it’s any of your business.”
His lips parte

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?