9. Elena #2
“You had every right to be angry. I lied to you by omission. I let you believe everything was fine while Marcus was stalking me, photographing me, building his obsession into something that now threatens both of us. You deserved to know the truth, and I didn’t give it to you.”
“You were scared. You made a choice based on fear and pride and a misguided belief that you could handle the situation alone. The choice was wrong, but I understand why you made it.” He crossed the room, his hands finding my shoulders, his touch gentle despite the tension in his body.
“I’m not angry at you for not telling me.
I’m angry at the situation. I’m angry at Marcus for violating you.
I’m angry at myself for not noticing something was wrong, for not pushing harder when you seemed distracted or distant. I’m angry at everything except you.”
The words were exactly what I needed to hear, the reassurance I’d been desperate for since he’d walked out of my apartment. I leaned into him, let his arms come around me, let myself feel safe for the first time in hours.
“Detective Mitchell said it could take weeks or months to build a case,” I said quietly. “She recommended I file for a restraining order, but she admitted it’s just a piece of paper. Marcus might not respect it. He might escalate instead.”
“Then we’ll deal with that when it happens.
Right now, we focus on keeping you safe.
You’re staying here with Lucia, which is good.
I’ll coordinate with building security, make sure they know to watch for Marcus.
I’ll drive you to rehearsals, pick you up after performances.
You’re not going anywhere alone until this is resolved. ”
The possessiveness in his voice was unmistakable, exactly what I’d been afraid of. It was also comforting, reassuring, proof that he was taking the threat seriously.
“I don’t want you to ruin your career because of this,” I said. “I don’t want you to do something reckless that will give Marcus exactly what he wants, which is to destroy what we have together.”
“I’m not going to do anything reckless. I’m going to let the police handle Marcus while I focus on being there for you. That’s what you need from me, right? Support, not vigilante justice?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get.” His arms tightened around me, his face buried in my hair.
“I’m not going anywhere, Elena. I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.
We’re going to get through this together, and when it’s over, Marcus is going to understand that touching you, even through surveillance, was the biggest mistake of his life. ”
The promise was dark, possessive, exactly what I should have been afraid of. Instead, I found it comforting, reassuring, proof that Dominic’s intensity could be protective rather than suffocating.
We stood in the middle of Lucia’s living room, holding each other, neither of us speaking. The silence was heavy with everything unsaid, with the fear and violation and uncertainty of what came next.
Dominic pulled back slightly, his hands framing my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were falling. His expression was raw, stripped of the careful control he usually maintained, showing me something vulnerable beneath the intensity.
“Come with me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
He took my hand and led me down the hallway to Lucia’s bathroom, closing the door behind us with a quiet click that felt like sealing us away from the world.
The space was small, intimate, the mirror reflecting our images back at us; me disheveled and exhausted, him tense with barely contained emotion.
“I should have been there,” he said, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me against him. “I should have protected you from this. From him. I left you alone when you needed me most, and I’m so fucking sorry for that.”
“You didn’t know…”
“I should have known.” His grip tightened, possessive and desperate. “I should have seen it, should have felt it, should have been there when those photographs arrived. Instead, you were alone, terrified, and I wasn’t there to protect you.”
The guilt in his voice was palpable, devastating, proof that his possessiveness came from a place of genuine care rather than control. He lifted me onto the bathroom counter, the cool marble against my thighs a sharp contrast to the heat of his body as he stepped between my legs.
“I need you to know something,” he said, his forehead pressed against mine, his breath warm against my lips.
“You’re mine, Elena. Not in the way Marcus thinks you belong to him; not as some fantasy or possession.
You’re mine because I choose you, and you choose me, and nothing is going to change that.
Not him, not his surveillance, not his delusions. ”
His hands slid under my shirt, palms warm against my skin, mapping the curve of my waist in a worshiping way that made my breath catch. The touch was possessive but tender, claiming but careful, exactly what I needed from him.
“I need you,” I whispered, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. “I need to feel something other than fear and violation. I need to feel you.”
Dominic’s response was immediate, visceral.
He kissed me with an intensity that bordered on desperation, his mouth demanding and giving in equal measure.
His hands moved with purpose, stripping away my clothes with an efficiency that spoke of barely restrained need.
The air was cool against my bare skin, but his touch was fire, burning away everything except the sensation of him.
He freed himself from his jeans, the sound of the zipper loud in the small space, and then he was pressing against me, the heat of him making me gasp. He entered me in one smooth thrust, filling me completely, the angle perfect and overwhelming.
“Mine,” he whispered against my neck, his voice rough with emotion and possession. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting anything hurt you again. Never.”
The rhythm he set was intense, purposeful, each thrust a claim and a promise.
His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he moved, the counter hard against my back, the mirror cool where my shoulders pressed against it.
The physical sensation was overwhelming, but it was the emotion in his touch that undid me; the desperate need to reassure, to protect, to claim me in a way that had nothing to do with ownership and everything to do with devotion.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words punctuated by the movement of his hips, by the way his hands tightened on my skin. “I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry you had to face that alone. I’m sorry I left you when you needed me.”
“You’re here now,” I managed, my voice breaking on the words. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.”
His response was to kiss me again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine as his movements became more urgent. The pleasure built with devastating speed, the combination of physical sensation and emotional intensity pushing me toward the edge faster than I could process.
When I came, it was with his name on my lips, my body clenching around him, my hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. He followed moments later, his face buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he whispered my name like a prayer.
We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, bodies still joined, the reality of what had just happened settling over us. Dominic pulled back slightly, his hands gentle now as they cupped my face, his eyes searching mine.
“I love you,” he said, the words simple and devastating. “I love you, and I’m going to spend every day proving that my love is about protecting you, not controlling you. About being there for you, not suffocating you. Can you trust me to do that?”
I nodded, tears streaming down my face again, but these were different; relief and hope and something that felt like healing.
“I love you too,” I whispered. “And I’m going to trust you to be better. To be the man I know you can be.”
He helped me down from the counter, his touch careful as he steadied me, then helped me dress with a tenderness that made my chest ache. When we were both presentable again, he pulled me into his arms, holding me close, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
“We’re going to get through this,” he said. “Together. No more secrets, no more hiding. We face this together, and we come out stronger on the other side.”
The promise felt real, tangible, exactly what I needed to hear.