PRESENT
The longer Eli stares at me, the tighter the tension slithers around my neck and squeezes like a venomous snake.
I’ve been lethally poisoned by him before—it was both painful and irreversible. It took all my resolve to escape his orbit.
I spent sleepless nights and precious tears on the bastard, and I had to adopt a complete change of mindset to escape him.
After the day he so cruelly stepped on my naive heart, I thought I wanted to die.
Stupid, really, when I think about it now.
But at that moment, everything morphed into black smoke and I felt so miserable, I contemplated plotting my demise.
I’m so thankful Creigh found me in the greenhouse before I could entertain those dark thoughts. He let me cry on his shoulder for an hour without saying a word, and I’ll never forget the comfort he provided me.
It’s an absolute tragedy that I wasn’t head over heels for him instead of his tyrant brother, but then again, one can’t simply dictate the demands of their heart.
I threw the pink letter I wrote to him in the nearest rubbish can and, for good measure, kissed Vance to wash away Eli’s bloody kiss.
Cecily stopped me before I did something more stupid, like shagging the guy just out of spite. My friend and I snuggled in my bed, and she listened to me blabber and cry and curse him while I drank myself to sleep.
Honestly, if it weren’t for Creigh and Cecy, my life would’ve ended that night in the most embarrassing way imaginable.
To think I was naive enough to even consider that option grates on my nerves.
No, I’m not the healthiest person mentally, but I’m surrounded by people who love and appreciate me, and I had to focus on them instead.
So I spent the years that followed getting over him by converting all that admiration and affection to hot-blooded hate. It worked like a charm.
It’s still working like a charm.
Except that he seemed to insert his distasteful presence in my way after I got into his uni. For the record, I only did that to be with Cecy, Glyn, and the rest of my friends. It absolutely had nothing to do with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, as I preferred to call him.
Not one single bit.
And yet wherever I went, he was there either physically, like a dark lord lurking in the shadows, or virtually through others. He was like a damn parasite one can’t get rid of.
That night before my imagined accident was one of many where he just dished out his orders and expected me to follow them like I was still the idiot Ava who ceased breathing whenever he looked in her direction.
He ruined all of my relationships. Though it’s a stretch to call them that since he scared the guys away before we even started dating properly.
James at school ditched me because I was high maintenance. Later, I found out from Lan that Eli had threatened his application to Oxford and his dad’s spot in the gentleman’s club.
Harry said my tastes were too expensive for his liking, even though I never asked the loser for a penny. Eli apparently worked his devious ways to nearly drive his family’s business into bankruptcy.
My favorite, Marco, was shipped back to Italy on the first plane after he kissed me. He’s banned from the UK as we speak.
That’s not mentioning the abolition of any possible fling I attempted to start.
Apparently, I offended the mighty Eli King by confessing my naive feelings, so he set out to ruin my life.
The more I act out, the harder he squashes me.
The stronger my reaction, the more brutal his consequences.
He told me not to go to clubs. I did. He got me blacklisted from half of them.
He told me to stop vying for attention and being easy. That one got me mad and destructive. I danced with any man I could find that night. The one I rubbed my arse all over? Yeah, no one knows where that guy is.
I just hope he was sent back to the States and not to somewhere more obscure.
My retaliations proved useless and only managed to provoke Eli’s ugly side. All of his sides are ugly, but there’s a deadlier part of him that survives on psychotic viciousness.
That didn’t stop me. Not when he glared at me as if I were a cockroach he couldn’t wait to squash beneath his designer shoe. Or when my friends told me I was asking for trouble.
Even Cecily said it was like I wasn’t doing it for my freedom anymore. I didn’t even like any of the guys I flirted with. Didn’t want to be in a relationship. And my little girl’s dream of a big house, kids, and multiple pets had already been broken. So according to her, I was only doing it because I did want the attention. Specifically, his attention.
I did not.
I just liked messing with him like he messed with me. Sometimes, when my head got too depressed, I thought it wasn’t worth it and chose to avoid him.
Most of the time, however, I’d swing back with my own poison.
You can bet I secretly sabotaged any relationships or situationships he was in after I got to uni. Not personally. I’m not an amateur, thank you very much. I hired aspiring actresses and invented entire scenarios to make his possible girlfriends think he’d gotten a girl or two pregnant and was siring an army of fatherless children he’d cut from his life.
Annoyingly, some of the girls were so desperate to be with him, they didn’t care about that moral dilemma. So I had to pull out the big guns and ask for Lan’s help.
I should be ashamed about the leverage that psycho holds over me. If he chooses to, he could have me locked up for all sorts of petty crimes. But I have no regrets. I needed a psycho to battle a psycho.
Lan and I are a team against Eli. He participates because he loves instigating chaos more than breathing. While I’m dedicated to the cause because I can’t lose to the prick anymore.
Eli doesn’t get to mess with me and obtain an easy life in return. My parents taught me to hit back twice as hard and never back down.
So I’ll die on this hill, please and thank you.
Or that’s what I thought before.
Now that I have Eli’s last name and I’m forced to share space with him, everything is crumbling apart.
I look up at him as my lungs empty of oxygen and fill with his scent. I’m unwillingly trapped in his frosty eyes, his tragically handsome face, and his sharp features.
And in moments like these, I have to squash any remnants of the old me with bloody hands and chipped nails.
Playing the cello isn’t even a viable escape anymore. It took a lot of courage and effort to pick it up again, and surprisingly, it worked well, as if I never stopped playing. In no time, I got lost in the music and forgot my surroundings.
Until he barged into my space and touched my face like he owned me.
His fingers have left such a searing burn on my skin, I’m surprised I don’t erupt in flames.
“Get out.” My voice is barely a whisper.
Partly because I’m taken aback. I thought he didn’t want to be in my vicinity, which is why he’s been avoiding me like the plague. Partly because I don’t understand the cryptic look in his eyes.
Morbid anger mixed with a strange sense of relief.
As fast as it appeared, those emotions retreat behind his fortified walls. My eyes widen as he sits on the edge of the bed. Beside me.
I try to ignore the lick of heat that touches my bare arm. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“I did.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Never said I’d listen. Besides…” His lips lift in a sardonic smirk. “I heard you were moaning about my absence from your life, so I decided to grace you with my presence.”
That snitch Sam.
“I’m honored,” I say with enough bite to signal a third world war.
Eli grins. “I know. Try not to fall head over tits.”
“I’ll manage just fine, considering your presence bores me to tears. Now, I need to practice. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He leans back on his palms, watching me with that dark gaze.
“Leave already. Shoo.”
“Do I unsettle you?”
“You repulse me.”
“I don’t see how that would interfere with your ability to play.”
You know what? Screw him.
I’m not going to allow him to ruin my newfound connection with the cello.
Grabbing the bow, I launch into a slow note and then decide to play something angry so he’ll get the memo.
The cello has always been my perfect outlet. Until I substituted it with an unhealthy addiction—alcohol and drugs.
Maybe the fact that I’ve been sober for some time is the reason my cello is speaking to me again.
I play the sixth movement of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 3 with every ounce of intensity in me. The entire time, I try my best to ignore Eli, but I’m dangerously aware of him.
His stare—or glare—nearly rips a hole in the back of my head. His warmth engulfs me, steals my breath, and charges the air with a destructive energy.
As I hit the last note, a slow clap comes from my side. My jaw nearly hits the ground as I stare back at my cruel, emotionless husband, who has not got one gentle bone in his ripped body.
I expect to find mockery, disregard, or his usual attempts to put me down, but all I find is a small smile and a bizarre glint in those dead eyes.
For a moment, I think he’s an imposter.
Also, why am I dazzled?
The thing in my chest better stop beating so loud or I’ll carve it out once and for all.
Eli opens his mouth and I harden my pride for the hit, but then his deep voice fills the space. “Impressive. I have to say, the anger makes it more memorable.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“I didn’t peg you as someone who can’t handle compliments. You seem to ask for them any occasion possible.”
“I didn’t peg you as someone who compliments people.”
“Not people. You.”
He stands up before I can process his words. His fingers trace my cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake before he grabs my chin. He looks down at me without his usual disregard and studies my face so intently, so lovingly, that if I were watching the scene from the outside, I’d mistake it for affection between a married couple.
His touch burns, but his intense stare leaves me frozen. It’s like he’s searching for something. What, I don’t know.
Finally, he releases me. “Sleep tight, Mrs. King.”
Eli walks out with firm, measured strides. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me in a perpetual state of confusion and unbearable warmth.
What type of game are we playing now? Because no one informed me of the new rules.
He was supposed to regard me with contempt, so what the hell is up with this sudden change?
The following morning, I’m surprised to find Eli in the kitchen.
He’s typically out of the house by the time I wake up at ten in the morning and comes back late in the evening, normally after I retreat to my room to battle my usual war with insomnia.
A battle I totally lost last night because I only went to sleep at, like, four in the morning.
I consider going back to my room and disappearing until he screws off somewhere, but that would mean I’m avoiding him.
I’d rather die before giving him any ideas.
“Morning, Sam.” I beam at the old lady as I grab my smoothie and completely ignore his sore presence.
Even though there’s a whole dining room next door, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading from a physical newspaper like an old-fashioned lord and sipping his coffee.
Crisp white shirt, dark-blue pressed trousers, and my watch on his wrist.
Yup. Still as perfect as ever.
“Morning to you as well, Mrs. King,” he says without looking up from his newspaper. “Nice of you to finally join us. I thought the stock market would close before you graced us with your appearance.”
“Good thing I don’t handle my own investment portfolio.” I slide across from Sam as she also sips her tea and watches the exchange with no emotion. “I’m going to the greenhouse. Call me when the eyesore presence is gone, Sam.”
Eli finally stares at me over the top of his newspaper. He pauses when he catches my champagne-pink velvet skirt. It stops a bit below my arse, stretching around my slender curves.
His gaze descends from my white muslin blouse, pausing at my breasts before it takes in my bare legs and cute bunny slippers. For a moment, I can feel his big veiny hands stroking a pattern on my naked flesh, searing and marking it for anyone to see.
Stop thinking about sex and Eli.
He slides his attention back to my face. “Sit down.”
“Pass.”
“Sit your arse down before I find you a less pleasant chair.”
“Still pass. Bon appétit.” I blow him a fake kiss and make a beeline for the door.
Before I can move out of his orbit, two strong hands lift me by the waist, and I shriek as Eli shoves me down on a hard surface.
His lap.
What the—
The smoothie sloshes in the cup before it settles like a weight in my stomach.
His taut bicep encloses me. He’s all hard—his chest, his thighs, and holy…shit. Is that his erection pressing against my arse?
“What do you think you’re doing?” I sound more horrified than a nun.
“Finding you the less pleasant chair I promised.”
“Let me go.”
“Should’ve thought about that before you defied me. You need to learn how to pick your battles, Mrs. King.” His voice is so close, I can taste his words and feel the rumble of his chest as my legs part, revealing my thighs.
A micro-miniskirt was definitely not the best choice.
It rides up my legs, dangerously close to exposing my underwear. I fight the urge to tug it down, because that would make me look meek in front of the devil.
“I’ll sit on the chair.”
“Missed your chance.” He flips open his newspaper, and even though it’s right in front of me, the words are a blur.
I chance a look at Sam, pathetically asking her to help me, but the damn woman is busy folding napkins at the counter with her back to us.
Refusing to seem affected, I slurp my smoothie and squirm. Jeez. It’s physically impossible to ignore his erection.
“Did you gain on any stock investments today?” I ask, examining my nails.
“Certainly.”
“That explains the celebration happening beneath me.”
He raises a perfect brow, a smile tugging on his lips. “How so?”
“Making yourself rich and the world population poorer is the only thing that turns you on. Is there a paraphilia for money fetishization?”
“I ought to ask you since you’re an expert at splurging. Also”—he folds the newspaper and snakes his arm around my stomach, pulling me back against him until his cock settles at the crack of my arse, where the hem of my skirt meets my naked thighs—“money isn’t what’s sitting on my lap.”
Warmth spreads through me like a burst of fireworks as the straw falls from my lips. Swallowing the contents of my mouth is exceptionally hard as I stare into his dazzling eyes.
A spark of lust stares back at me, strangles my throat with invisible fingers, and licks its way beneath my skin.
No.
“I must say, I’m heartbreakingly disappointed.” I pat his cheek, thankful that I sound coherent enough. “It’s okay. There’s no shame in mediocrity.”
A soft snort comes from the other side of the room and I could swear Sam is laughing, but I can’t turn and see, because I’m winning this round.
I’m met with Eli’s poker face. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh. Had better.” I fake a yawn.
“Doubtful.”
“Aw. Hurt?”
“Apathetic.”
“Doubtful.” I smirk, but it dies out when he tightens his grip on my waist and slides me up and down his erection.
Oh God.
His cock engorges, thickening and lengthening until it settles right between my thighs.
I resist the urge to clench my legs or pull the damned skirt down.
“You seem quite impressed now.” His dark words land on the shell of my ear in a low whisper.
“Hardly.”
“You’re drooling, Mrs. King.”
“More like fuming.”
“Enough to attempt dry humping my cock?” His words lower, eliciting sharp tingles on my nape.
“I’m trying to get comfortable under the miserable circumstances.”
He slides his other hand up my back, erupting a volcano on the muslin shirt, and I bite my lower lip when his fingers skim my nape.
Eli fists my hair by my ponytail and jerks my head back so that it’s leaning against his chest and he’s staring down at me. His lips nearly touch mine with every word. “Comfortable enough, Mrs. King?”
I cease breathing, partly because if I open my mouth, I’ll brush my lips against his. The part that’s daring me to go for it, see who can win this battle, should be chucked over a cliff.
Movement comes from behind us as if it’s reaching us from a basement before a familiar voice announces, “Isn’t it too early for this show?”
I snap out of my alien state and straighten when Eli reluctantly releases my hair, looking positively annoyed.
My eyes land on Creigh first, and then a smaller girl who’s wearing a purple jumpsuit and matching headband and earrings slides from behind him, covering her eyes.
“Anni!”
“Ava!!”
I shove Eli away to attack her in a bear hug. Even though I only met Anni at uni, we clicked right away. She’s the purple to my pink and the only one of my friends who’s obsessed with looking like a princess. All the time.
Once we break apart, I stroke her long brown hair and the locks she curled. “Love the new haircut!”
“Love your skirt!”
We hug again. “Missed you, Anni.”
“Missed you, too, future sis-in-law.”
Right.
We’re that now.
I reluctantly let her go and wrap my arms around Creigh. “Hi, you.”
He barely returns the hug before he’s pulled back and Eli starts to envelop him in an embrace. “What a very pleasant surprise, little bro.”
Creigh pushes him away. He somehow looks different now. He’s happier, I guess, thanks to the fireball of sunshine that is Anni. He’s been a changed man since she came into his life.
She altered him for the better, despite all the odds that were stacked against them.
Ari says Anni is like her role model because she got the guy who had absolutely no interest in her in the beginning and even considered her annoying. She takes notes from her.
Not me.
Since I’m obviously a failure.
“You knew we were coming,” Creigh tells his brother.
“In the afternoon. Does it look like teatime to you?”
“Every time is teatime.”
“You need to work on your disastrous timing.”
A rare smirk lifts Creigh’s lips. “I have my dear old brother to blame.”
Eli looks like he’s contemplating punching Creigh, but then he wraps an arm around his shoulders and shakes him roughly. “Did I say how much I missed you?”
“Not in the past…” Creigh checks his watch. “Ten hours.”
“I’ll only say it again next month, due to your poor timing.”
“Don’t think you’ll survive that long.” Creigh smiles at me. “Anni wanted to spend time with you. Want to join us?”
“Absolutely!”
“Not,” Eli finishes.
I glare at him. “I’m going out with them.”
“Not in that skirt.”
“It’s perfectly acceptable.”
“For the bedroom. In case you didn’t notice, there are kids in the streets.”
“Pretty sure that’s not what you’re worried about,” Creigh mutters under his breath.
Eli pokes him in the side. “You’re uncharacteristically chatty today, little bro.”
He pokes him back. “Only for you, brother dearest.”
Eli’s cold eyes send icy spikes in my direction. “Either you change or you don’t go out.”
I want to defy him just for the hell of it, but I could really use some friends and a change of routine. Real friends, not fake-ass ones who are easily threatened by the resident prick.
Not gracing him with a response, I shove past him toward the stairs.
He is so going to regret this.
I have the perfect plan for a long overdue payback.
