Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elliot
I busy myself with work for as long as I can, but nothing I do will fully pull my thoughts from the fact Seraphine is having dinner with my son right now.
It infuriates me.
Reading through reports, I find there isn’t a single thing I’ve comprehended once I get to the end. I move onto others, hoping it’s just a fluke and maybe that particular report was more boring than the others. As if any of them would be fascinating.
It’s nearly 7:30 when I give into my irritation and gather my things, leaving the office. It’s a miracle I lasted this long.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I don’t head home. Even though it’s downpouring, I find myself heading toward Seraphine’s, needing to see her. Needing to know she’s still mine, even though she’s never told me so. So, I at least need to know she isn’t his, hasn’t given into him.
What I feel toward my son should be shameful, and maybe there is a bit of that lingering beneath my skin.
More than anything, it’s a primal need that’s urging me on.
A lion doesn’t take familial bonds into consideration.
Nor does a bear or a wolf or even an elephant, though many think they’re such docile creatures.
Bull elephants expel their sons from the herd at a certain age and will become competitive during mating season.
I’ve never considered myself animalistic, and the only time aggression has shown its face is when it comes to my work—not until meeting Seraphine, anyway.
She brings out these primitive instincts in me that I’m unsure how to control.
Honestly, I’m not sure I can control them at all.
So, I do the next best thing—give in to them.
Is an animal more cruel after it’s been caged or when it’s allowed to roam free?
I park in the underground lot, in her space, with the intention of staying here as long as she will allow me. Realizing I don’t have the key to get into the building from this elevator, since there isn’t a guard, I walk out into the rain, hurry around the block, and enter through the front door.
“Mr. Caldwell,” the doorman says with surprise. “I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t made aware you were coming. I would have—”
“It’s fine,” I say calmly. “This was a last-minute trip.”
“Can I get you a towel to dry off?”
“No, thank you. I’m heading up to a friend’s apartment. I’m sure they will take care of me.”
Seraphine better take care of me. Or at least let me take care of her.
“As you wish, sir,” he says, but sounds uncertain. Worried, perhaps. Like if his boss finds out about this, he won’t be happy. I’ll have to reach out to Michelle and let her know to reach out to the building manager and get it handled. This isn’t the doorman’s fault and shouldn’t be made to be so.
Once on the elevator, I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over my arm, using my hand to shake the water from my hair, then use the reflection on the elevator to comb it back into place. It doesn’t quite stay the way it was before, but that’s fine. With any luck, Seraphine will mess it up more.
I step out of the elevator onto her floor.
When I reach the end of the hall, I hear frustrated voices.
I turn the corner, eyes wide when I see Harrison in front of Seraphine’s door.
It’s open, with her inside enough that I can’t see her.
I consider turning around to leave, coming back later so I don’t make a scene, until I notice that Harrison is gripping her wrist, and his tone is rougher than I’d like.
I move quickly toward them and I’m about ten feet away when Harrison glances in my direction. He does a double take.
“What are you doing here?” he accuses.
“Let go of her,” I demand but keep my voice calm.
“Excuse me?”
I step as close to him as I can and speak through gritted teeth.
“Let go of her,” I speak slowly, my voice growling.
He drops her hand and turns towards me. We’re nose to nose.
“I asked what you’re doing here.”
“Why are you here?” I retort instead of giving him an answer.
“He was just leaving,” Seraphine adds.
“No, actually I wasn’t. Seraphine was inviting me inside.”
“By the looks of it, she was doing no such thing,” I say. “Perhaps it’s best if you leave.”
“Not until you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here,” Harrison snaps.
“He’s picking up a file,” Seraphine offers, but it does no good. Harrison is angry and even if I had a delivery hat on and a bag of food, he wouldn’t believe that I belonged here. Though, thinking about it, I suppose that is a pretty ludicrous idea. Me delivering food. Ha!
“I raised you better than this,” I hiss. “Putting your hands on a woman?”
“Oh, please. I hardly touched her.”
“Perhaps if I never heard the way you speak to her or seen the way you have looked at her, I’d believe that. Maybe if I didn’t know you’ve cheated on her, then I would believe that. But your actions say otherwise, and I do not approve.”
He scoffs. “I don’t need your approval, father.”
“Then I suppose you don’t need my money either?” I raise a brow, and he can’t hide the shock from his face.
“You wouldn’t.”
“If I catch you in one more compromising position with her, hear you speak to her in a tone that is anything but appropriate, I will cut you off faster than a tumor,” I threaten.
“You—”
“Try me,” I seethe.
Harrison lets out a frustrated sound before stepping back and angling his head toward Seraphine. “We will talk about this later.”
She nods, and it’s now I notice she’s hugging herself. Terror and tears in her eyes.
Once Harrison storms off, disappearing around the corner, I usher Seraphine into her apartment, lock the door and pull her into my arms while dropping my jacket onto the floor.
“You’re okay,” I tell her.
She’s shaking. “What just happened?” she asks.
I release her, cupping her face and making her look at me.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“You told him you’d cut him off…”
“I don’t like the way he talks to you. Hell, the way he treats you.”
“You can’t do that,” she says, shaking her head.
“I can do whatever I want, Seraphine. And believe me, I will. He is my son, yes, but I will not support a heathen who has no respect for women—you or any other.” I implore her with my gaze, my voice as serious as a heart attack.
“He’s shown me his true colors over these last few months, and I do not like it one bit.
Had I known he was like this, I’d have threatened him sooner.
Harrison has done nothing to earn my financial support.
He only receives it because he is my son.
That can and will change when I deem fit. ”
I wait for her to give me a response, to argue with me some more.
She lunges forward, hands gripping onto my shirt to pull me down to kiss her.
I groan against her lips, both shocked and thrilled that this is her response.
Pulling my shirt from my pants, she works on the buttons, eager to get it off.
It’s not that I want to stop this, there is nothing more I want than her right now, but something doesn’t feel right.
I press my hands to her shoulders and break us apart.
“Seraphine, slow down.”
She’s panting, lips puffy from our kiss, eyes wild.
“Why?”
I run my hands down her arms then over her hair that is damp. It’s now I realize all of her is damp. Her shaking wasn’t from fear but because her lips are blue and she’s freezing.
“Let me take care of you first.” I slip my hand into hers and pull her after me, down the short hall that leads to the bedroom. The bathroom is just before it on the right, so I pop in there.
“Have a seat.” I point to the vanity then give her my back as I run the free-standing bathtub. When it’s warm enough, I plug it. Turning around, I find her still standing. “What are you doing? Sit and relax.”
“I don’t deserve you,” she whispers, her gaze wide.
“What?” I shake my head, going to her. “What are you saying?”
“You’re so kind to me. You do so much for me.” Her voice wavers, eyes now shining with tears. “I’ve never done anything in my life to deserve this from you, and yet… you’re here. Saving me. Protecting me. Making me feel good. All the time, Elliot. How? Why?”
I search her eyes before speaking again, the steady rush of water filling the tub sounding behind my words.
“You don’t have to earn love, or protection, or happiness. You’ve been through so much, and if anyone deserves to feel safe and cherished, it’s you. I’m here because I choose to be.”
A tear slips from her eye, and I quickly wipe it away before kissing her forehead.
“You are too sweet for this harsh world,” I whisper against her skin.
Her hands once again fist my shirt, tugging me to her. Only this time, she buries her face against my chest and holds me to her, so I hold her back. Until I can no longer stand the fact she is turning into a popsicle.
“Take off these clothes before you get sick.”
I move to the bathtub and shut off the water.
The room has already grown warm from the heat of the bath, and it’s just what she needs.
When I turn back to her, she’s struggling to get out of the damp clothes that are sticking to her skin, so I quickly move to her and help, peeling the shirt from her back and pulling it over her head, to drop on the floor.
Her hands fall to her sides, and she looks up at me from over her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I unclasp her bra, and one by one, she pulls the straps down her shoulders and lets that fall to the floor as well. I trail my fingers down her spine, stopping at the waistband of her skirt before pinching the slim zipper between my two fingers and pulling it down.
In nothing but a pink thong, I can’t help but take in the shape of her ass. So round and full. I can’t help but press my hand to it, kneading her flesh. She smiles at me, then pulls her panties down and turns toward me.
“You are so beautiful,” I tell her as she brushes some hair away from her face.
She would blush now, if she could, but her body is a strange shade, and I know she needs warmth.
“Into the bath. I’ll make you tea while you get warm.”
As I walk toward the door, I’m stopped by her grasping my hand and pulling me to her.
“Thank you,” she says again, this time slower and full of meaning. “For everything.
I smile. “You are so welcome, sweetness.”
Once I’m in the kitchen, I pull open the cabinets in search of tea only to realize she doesn’t have any.
With a huff, I dig my phone from my pocket and call down to the front desk, letting them know I’ll need some immediately.
And though she just went to eat dinner with my son, she could probably use some soup as well.
So, I let them know to stop at a deli and bring some up.
I check on Seraphine while I wait, then browse her apartment. It’s different than when I was here last. More comfortable. Lived in. It doesn’t feel as empty as it did when I walked in that first time. I’m happy for her.
The staff are knocking on the door twenty minutes later and I am thoroughly impressed.
It’s the same doorman I ran into earlier and I give him a hefty tip.
I’m not sure how much was in my wallet, but likely a couple hundred.
His eyes nearly bug out of his head, and he stutters something about not being able to accept it, but I close the door in his face and hurry to make the tea. When it’s finished, I bring it to her.
“I should have had them bring a bathtub tray as well,” I comment as I look around at where to place the tea. I hadn’t thought this far ahead.
“I can’t believe you made them get tea in this weather,” she says humorously.
She’s submerged in the water up to her shoulders, the water rippling and showing off her collarbones. Gorgeous, they are. I never knew a collarbone could be so sexy, but hers is.
“How do you feel?” I ask, placing the mug on the vanity. I’ll reheat it for her once she’s out.
“Much better.”
I take the vanity bench and bring it to the edge of the tub, then roll my sleeves up to my elbows, picking up the bath sponge from the basket hanging off the side. I dip it into the water, then squeeze it out over her chest. She sighs contentedly.
“Tell me what happened. How did you end up here with him when you were scheduled for dinner?”
I run the sponge along her chest and neck before dipping it deeper into the water and over breasts. Her nipples turn to points, and I ache to suck on them.
“We argued at dinner. He was being ridiculous, so I got up and left mid-meal. He didn’t like that, so he showed up here.”
With the sponge still in my hand, I run it beneath her breasts, letting my thumb brush along her tight nipples. I do this over and over, slowly, waiting for her response, until I drop the sponge and pinch her nipple instead. Her back bows, pushing into my touch, the water rippling around her.
“Seeing him act like this makes me feel like a failure,” I admit again.
I’d never felt like a failure in my entire life. Not when it comes to work, not when it comes to my son, and not even when it came to my failed marriage. Yet, the son part of that is changing. How had I not noticed the kind of man my only child had turned into?
“You’re not a failure,” Seraphine says softly, the same way she did last time, her hand moving to rest on top of mine. I’m still playing with her nipple with no plan to stop.
“I raised him better than this,” I say, and not for the first time. But I did raise him better than this and he knows the respect I have and expect for women. I’ve done nothing in my life to make him think the way he is acting is okay.
“I know you did.” I meet her gaze and see the truth there. She believes me. “This isn’t your fault. The way Harrison behaves isn’t your fault.”
I nod absently, not sure I believe that but maybe I will one day.
“Elliot?”
“Yeah, sweetness?”
She pushes my hand lower, down her soft stomach and between her legs.
“Make me come, please.”
“As you wish.”