Chapter 17 Elijah #2
“You’re not that man anymore.” Her voice is steady, fierce. “And even if you were, I’d want to understand why. You don’t scare me, Elijah. Not your past. Not your damage. Not your darkness.”
Then she presses her hand to my chest—right over the part of me I thought was too far gone to matter.
“This,” she whispers, “this is what I see. A man who left hell and built something beautiful. Who loves fiercely. Who holds me when I can’t hold myself.”
My hand finds her wrist, wrapping around it gently like I’m afraid she’ll disappear.
“You should run, Baby Girl,” I murmur.
But she lifts her chin, that stubborn spark in her eyes. “You’d catch me anyway.”
The sound that escapes me is a mess—half laugh, half sob—and I can’t hold it in anymore. I pull her into me like I’m starving. Like if I don’t hold her, I’ll fall apart.
And then she’s in my lap, straddling me on the couch, cradling my face like she’s trying to memorize every scar and shadow.
“I’m not leaving,” she says.
My forehead falls to her shoulder. I breathe her in. Vanilla and coffee and safety.
“You always know what to say,” I manage, my voice muffled against her skin.
“No,” she whispers back. “I just love you too damn much to let you drown in something you already survived.”
And right then, I know—I’ve never been more seen. Or more saved.
She’s quiet, watching me with those eyes that never miss anything. Not judgmental. Not afraid. Just… waiting. Like she knows there’s more. And she’s giving me the space to find the words.
God, I hate talking about this.
Not because I’m ashamed. Not anymore. But because once I say it out loud, I can’t take it back. There’s no unbreaking that silence. No pretending it never existed.
But I owe her the truth.
So I breathe in, slow and deep, and start.
“The family I worked for…” My voice is rough. “It was mine by blood. The Morettis.”
Her body goes still. Not from shock. Just stillness—the kind that listens with everything.
“My uncle ran it,” I continue. “Old-school mafia. Money laundering. Protection rackets. Blood oaths. All of it.”
I don’t look away. She deserves the truth with my eyes on hers.
“I wasn’t born into it the way Sebastian was, but I was brought in early. Trained. Groomed. I was meant to be his sword. His shadow. And I was good at it.”
There’s no pride in the words. Just a fact. That part of me is a closed room. A part of the house I keep locked.
“But the heir—my cousin, Sebastian—he was the one meant to take over.”
She gives me a small nod, staying silent, but I can feel how closely she’s listening. Her presence makes it easier to keep going.
“The thing is… he didn’t want it. Didn’t want the blood, or the weight. And he sure as hell didn’t want to become our uncle.”
I let a breath out, one I didn’t know I was holding.
“He was in love—with his best friend, Gabriel. Has been since we were kids.”
A faint smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. It surprises even me.
“They tried to hide it. At first. But I knew. Hell, I didn’t care. Gabe made Seb human. He pulled him back when the rest of us just kept pushing forward.”
My throat tightens a little. “They were each other’s safe place. Still are.”
There’s warmth in the memory. No regret. Just love. A kind I didn’t even understand back then.
“So when Seb said he was done—when he told me he was walking away—I didn’t think twice. I left with him. Not because I thought I deserved some kind of redemption. I didn’t. Still don’t.”
I glance at her. “But someone had to stand beside him. And it wasn’t going to be the rest of the family.”
Ava’s voice is soft. “You were his family.”
My chest tightens. “Still am.”
I can still hear the way they called us traitors. Said we were spitting on blood. But we weren’t. We were just trying to survive it.
“Everyone else tried to drag him back. Guilt-trip him. Threaten him. But I told him the truth: you don’t owe loyalty to something that demands you to destroy yourself to prove it.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I see it in her eyes—that ache. The understanding.
“When we disappeared, we cut ties clean. Seb and Gabriel left for good. Quiet life. And I came here. Opened the studio with Asher. I tried to build something that felt real.”
I pause, staring at our hands. Hers is still in mine. Steady. Warm. Real.
“I don’t regret leaving the family,” I say finally. “But sometimes… I miss the people we were before it broke us.”
Before the violence. Before the silence. Before all the things we had to bury just to survive.
Then she reaches for my hand—threading her fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You didn’t lose yourself, Elijah,” she says.
A hollow sound escapes me. A laugh, almost. “You’re wrong. I did.”
I lift her hand, press it to my lips. Not for her comfort—for mine. Because I don’t know how else to show her what this means.
“But then I met you,” I whisper. “And for the first time… I wanted to be found.”
“And Sophia’s in on this too?” Ava asks, her voice low, almost wary.
“Not her,” I say. “Her biological father was. He was one of my uncle’s and my father’s closest confidants.
Died when she was little. I doubt she remembers much—and if she does, she keeps it buried.
These days, I don’t think she has any idea.
She’s tight with Sebastian and Gabriel; they work together at Sebas’s company. I haven’t seen her in over a year.”
Ava doesn’t interrupt. Just watches me. Focused. Quiet. Almost too quiet.
“And no,” I add before she can form the question. “There’s never been anything between us. We come from different worlds. Last I heard, she was engaged to some upper-crust pretty boy—her mother practically arranged the whole thing.”
Ava laughs. It’s sudden. Sharp. Almost out of place.
“What’s funny?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“They’re not engaged anymore,” she says, lips curling. “And I think she’s got a thing for one of the clients who comes by. Tall guy. Bit shorter than you. Gray eyes. I’ve seen him around your studio.”
My pulse stutters. “Kaleb Evans? Are you saying she’s into him?”
Ava nods slowly. “That’s the name. But they’re not dating. Not officially. They just… leave each other notes.”
Notes?
A cold weight settles in my chest. “And you’re sure?”
Before Ava can reply, a voice cuts through the air. Mia steps out from the back, her expression unreadable.
“One: I’m glad you’re alive. Two: Don’t ever pull that again—I thought something happened to you.
I froze. You could’ve died if Elijah hadn’t been here.
And three… Blacksmith here is shocked because, according to every rumor and tabloid in circulation, Kaleb Evans and Kade Kingston have been involved for years.
Nothing confirmed, of course—but everyone knows Kaleb lives with the Kingston brothers. ”
I glance at her. She knows too much. Too much for her own good.
I force a smile. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know anything.”
“You’re lying,” Mia says, stepping closer. “Come on, give us something. We’re not stupid.”
“I’m not saying a word,” I reply. Calm. Measured. But the tension is rising. “Even if I did know something, I wouldn’t tell you. The last thing I need is a target on my back—or worse, Kade Kingston coming after me.”
Mia shoots me a look of mock disappointment, sticking her tongue out like a mischievous little kid before slipping behind the counter. Ava chuckles beside me, shaking her head.
“Mia, I think our day’s done,” Ava says with a tired smile. “I’m not really up for being here anymore, and I don’t want to leave you with the afternoon’s work. Take the rest of the day off—I’ll clean up before closing.”
I’m about to protest, but Mia beats me to it.
“Uh, no,” she says sharply, hands on her hips. “You’re not cleaning up yourself. Your loving boyfriend will be taking you home so you two can cuddle and relax. I’ll handle closing. Go.”
I grin. “I really like the idea, babe.”
I wrap an arm around Ava’s waist and lean close, lowering my voice just enough so only she can hear. “How about we spend the afternoon on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, watching trashy TV? We’ll order takeout… maybe finish with a bubble bath. A couple of orgasms on my tongue, too.”
Ava’s cheeks turn crimson. She buries her face in my shoulder, trying to hide her smile, and I catch Mia watching from behind the counter, laughing into her hand.
God, Ava’s adorable when she gets shy like this.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but it still hits me every time—how this sweet, gentle girl who blushes when I whisper dirty things in her ear in public is the same woman who, behind closed doors, begs me to take control. Hard. Rough. Unapologetic.
She’s a contradiction, and I love her for it. Every part of her. The soft, giggling side that flusters easily, and the bold, needy one that calls me Daddy and tells me exactly what she wants.
She’s perfectly, beautifully her.
***
We’re curled up on the couch, the credits of Transformers rolling in the background. Ava lifts her head from my shoulder, her expression thoughtful.
“Do they know about me?” she asks softly.
I glance down, brushing a kiss to her forehead before answering. “Yeah, babe. They’ve known about you since the day I met you. And the night I kissed you… I went to see them. I needed to talk to someone—someone outside of Asher, someone who didn’t know you, who hadn’t seen us together.”
Her brows knit together, pain flickering in her voice. “What were you expecting? For them to tell you to stop fighting for me?”
“What? No,” I say quickly, shaking my head.
“Of course not. But… when you're too close to something, it’s easy to lose perspective. I just needed clarity. And for what it’s worth, they both told me the same thing—give you space, and never stop fighting.
That you were worth it. Worth waiting for, for as long as it took. ”
Her eyes widen, glassy with emotion. “But… they don’t even know me.”
“No,” I say gently, “but they know me. They knew what it meant that I was struggling that much. That I was holding on so tightly. That you had to be someone special. And if you ever want to meet them, I’d love that. Ever since I told them you gave us a real chance, they’ve been dying to meet you.”
A smile touches her lips, but it’s laced with nerves. “Yeah? When could we see them? I’m somewhere between terrified and curious to meet people who knew you before here.”
“We could go this Sunday, if you’re up for it. Gabe will need a day to work through his usual anxiety spiral—he wants everything to be perfect for you. He’s just… wired that way.”
She laughs softly. “He doesn’t have to stress for me.”
“Baby, that man was born stressed. And not even Sebastian—with all his discipline—has managed to completely iron it out. It’s better, but it’s still there.”
She perks up. “Wait—discipline? What do you mean?”
The curiosity in her voice makes me grin. “Sebastian and Gabriel have a relationship like ours. Sebas is Gabe’s Dom. Gabe switches depending on his partner, but with Sebastian, he’s submissive.”
Her eyes light up, brain already working. “So Gabe’s a switch?”
Chuckling, I slide my hands under her arms and gently lift her, settling her across my lap, straddling me.
“Yes, babe. Sebastian is strictly Dominant, but Gabe is what we call a switch. Comfortable in either role, depending on the person. From what I know, he’s submissive with Sebas, and dominant with women. They’re both bi.”
“Ahhh, okay. That makes sense.” She pauses. “And you?”
I saw that coming.
“Me?” I smirk, trailing my fingers up her sides. “I’ve always been Dominant. And apparently, I have a Daddy kink that a certain naughty little princess helped me discover.”
I kiss her neck slowly, letting the heat between us simmer.
“Why, princess?” I murmur against her skin. “Are you thinking about seeing if there’s more to you than just my sweet baby girl? Maybe a little Domina in the making?”
“What? No.” Her response comes too fast, too sharp.
I reach out, brushing my fingers along her jaw to ground us both. “Ava, baby girl… I don’t know how well I’d handle being the one dominated, but for you? I’d be willing to try. If it’s ever something you want—or need—I’d give it a shot. Understand?”
Her eyes soften, her expression melting into something sweeter. “Yes, Daddy. I appreciate it, really… but I prefer when you take control. When you do what you want, when you want… and where you want.”
Her voice shifts mid-sentence—starting soft and innocent, ending playful, laced with just enough mischief to make my blood heat. That little switch of hers… I fucking love it. I love how comfortable she’s become letting her inner naughty little slut come out to play.
“Mmm… whatever I want?” I ask, even though I already know. Or at least, I know what she thinks she wants tonight.
“Uh-huh,” she hums, her voice syrupy-sweet and sexy as sin. “Whatever Daddy wants from his little slut.”
Fuck.
I exhale slowly, control slipping for just a second before I rein it back in. I cup her cheek, watching her pupils dilate with anticipation.
“Baby,” I say gently but firmly, “as much as I’d love to have you on your knees and fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, then bend you over the table and rail you until we both forget our own names… tonight, my little slut is going to rest.”
I see the protest on her face, but I press a finger to her lips.
“Just a few hours ago, you passed out, remember? Your body’s still catching up, and your well-being comes first. So, here’s what we’re going to do—be a good girl, wait right here while I run you a bath. Salts, bubbles, the whole deal. You’re going to relax.”
I pause, letting my voice drop into a promise.
“And if you behave… Daddy will end the night with dessert. That perfect little pussy of yours on my tongue, until you forget you even wanted more.”
She’s already melting, and I haven't even touched her yet. And later, I’ll fall asleep with her in my arms—right where she belongs.