A low laugh. It sends a shock straight through me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Ella’s laugh is a broken thing. Her voice is still damaged. But it has a light, sultry ring to it that makes my toes curl again. “You don’t think I’ve been out of the public eye too long already?”
“No, I don’t. Really. I think if you jump in now, you’ll be just fine.”
It’s time. I’ve been standing out here too long, fucking eavesdropping like a child at the top of the stairs refusing to sleep.
I can see her outline as I round the corner. Debating on entering the conversation is … problematic. It’s obvious she’s checking to see where I’ve gone. I watch for it too, the way she watches for me.
It’s not good. For either of us. For her, for The Firm.
And …
We’re past that.
I know it in the space of a single heartbeat. I know it down to my bones. I know it from the way my heartbeats turn jagged when I think of her in a room with someone else. When I think of the raw truth in her voice when she said she would fuck me. When I think of her arching her back on that video, with another man’s hand around her throat.
One last look into the sitting room. Ella looks slightly better than she did that day in the courtroom, but she needs more than sponsorship deals and talks with Damon and regular check-ins with Cade.
She needs more.
She needs me.
And there’s a way to do it.
A boulder shifts off my chest as the idea comes to me. It’s like that boulder has been split in two by a flash of lightning. The hairs all over my body pull up tight, goosebumps racing over my skin. There is a way to give her what she needs within the boundaries of the contract. Fuck me. A version of me only weeks ago wouldn’t believe what I’m considering.
My cock twitches in my pants. It wouldn’t involve sex. It could never involve sex.
The next moment, the boulder comes rocketing back onto me.
Only this time, the boulder has the shape of fear and guilt and regret. Something insidious and deadly. I turn away from the sitting room and go back to the kitchen. I get the coffee cup down without spilling it, which is better than I expected, and then I brace both hands on the countertop and lean over it.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Four-count breaths.
Four sets of them.
Even. Steady.
Gradually, I control my breathing and my sordid thoughts. Gradually, I straighten. I test my grip by taking a sip of coffee. My hand doesn’t tremble with the desire to slap her ass again and again.
That was fucking close.
Too close to the past. Too close by half, and I know what set me off. I know exactly what set me off. It’s the decision to offer Ella what she needs. The fact that she wants to fuck me—yeah. That did something to me. It set me up, and now I’m going to have to get myself under control the only way I know how.
I’m still going to do it, but another truth rears its head, sliding down my throat with the next sip of my coffee.
I’m going to have to talk about this. Not with Ella. Not with Damon, or even Cade, though it’s technically my responsibility to consult with them on matters of care … they don’t need to know this. They wouldn’t understand, and they could take her away from me. She needs this. I fucking know she does. Instead, I’ll consult a neutral third party.
Adrenaline pumps in my veins. There’s only one person I trust for advice when it comes to something as important as this. I take out my phone and send a single text message. It’s past nine, but the reply comes a minute later.
It’s done. The moment I read the text, the duo makes their way out of the sitting room.