Chapter 31 Ava #2
“You’re so strong, baby,” he murmurs. “But you don’t have to hold everything by yourself anymore.”
My throat catches. “I don’t know how to stop.”
“You don’t have to know. You just have to let me help.”
And then he kisses me. Not demanding. Not possessive.
It’s slow. Tender. Reverent. His lips brush mine like a promise. One hand slips to the back of my neck, anchoring me. The other rests at the small of my back, not pulling, just there. Holding me like I might float away otherwise.
I melt into him. Into his mouth. Into the soft groan that escapes him when my fingers slide into his hair. I kiss him back like I’m trying to rewrite the memory of that photo—like this is what I want imprinted on my skin instead.
His voice is rough when he finally pulls back. “You with me?”
I nod. “Always.”
“I want you with me tonight,” he says. “To the Kingston house. I need them to see you. To understand what’s at stake.”
A flicker of hesitation tugs at my spine. “Won't I be in the way?”
“Never,” he says, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re the reason I’m doing this. That makes you essential.”
***
The room is too quiet. Polished wood. Leather chairs. Stark lighting that feels like it’s meant to expose everything, even what you don’t want seen.
I stay close to Elijah, my fingers twined tightly in his. His presence grounds me, but my heart’s racing as I take in the four men seated in front of us.
Kade, composed behind his massive desk. Kaleb draped over the arm of his chair, all clear-eyed curiosity. Keller and Kai off to the side, assessing. Silent. Sharp. These aren’t just businessmen. There’s something heavier in the room—authority that doesn't need to be explained.
Elijah clears his throat, his voice low but sure.
“This is Ava,” Elijah says simply. There’s no explanation after that, like it should be obvious why I’m here. “She stays.”
No one argues.
“What I’m going to show you is a very intimate moment for us,” he says. “And when you see the photo… I know you’ll understand.”
I feel the shift in the room before anything else. Eyes flick to me, then to the small, folded photo he’s holding like it’s more dangerous than it looks.
And that’s when it hits me. Hits hard.
These four men—strangers to me, even if they’re close to Elijah—are about to see a part of my life that was meant to be just ours. A private, sacred moment between him and me.
My stomach tightens. My throat goes dry. I swallow hard and whisper, barely loud enough to be heard, “Elijah… emm… is it necessary for them to see the photo?”
My voice is small. Too small for this room.
But he hears me. Of course he does.
His head turns slowly, eyes meeting mine, and something shifts. Not just the look in them—but the energy between us. The boyfriend I know, the man who holds me when I cry and makes me tea when my mind spirals, is still there.
But now he’s something more.
“Do you trust me, princess?” he asks, voice velvet-wrapped steel.
Everything inside me stills.
It’s not just Elijah speaking now.
It 's Daddy.
And Daddy always wants the best for me. Even when I don’t understand. Even when it’s hard.
“Yes, Daddy,” I breathe. “Always.”
His expression softens in a way that makes my chest ache. He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Good girl.”
My heart stutters, heat rising in my chest—not from shame, but from being known. From being his.
He turns back to the table, unfolding the photo slowly, placing it on the polished surface with deliberate care. The room leans in—not in hunger, but in respect. The photo says more than a dozen pages of reports could.
No one speaks for a long beat.
Then Kade picks it up, eyes narrowing. Kaleb sits up straighter. Kai and Keller exchange a look that I can’t decipher, but I feel the shift.
“They were inside the building,” Elijah says. “Watching us.”
Kaleb speaks up then, his voice low. “That’s not a fan. That’s possession.”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.
Elijah wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer.
Protective. Solid.
I feel seen. And safe.
Kade leans forward slightly, his expression all business now. “This is very serious. Maybe you should consider hiring a bodyguard. As much as you’re at her house every night, during the day you have a business to run.”
Keller nods, arms crossed. “And we could also upgrade the alarm systems. Add more cameras to the store and the entrances. We’ve got guys who can handle it discreetly.”
“No bodyguards.”
My voice cuts through the room, firmer than I expect. I'm even a little surprised at how steady it sounds.
All their eyes shift to me.
“I mean it,” I continue, swallowing against the pressure in my chest. “I’m not letting whoever this is—whoever thinks they can stalk me into submission—control how I live my life.”
Elijah shifts beside me, not interrupting, just resting a warm hand on my thigh. It grounds me.
“I want to be smart. Careful, yes. But I’m not letting a stranger decide whether I walk alone to my car or not. Not again.”
Kaleb’s voice is gentle. “It’s not weakness to accept protection, Ava. But it is power to choose the terms.”
That gets through. I nod slowly, not backing down, but willing to meet them halfway.
“I’m okay with more cameras,” I say. “An upgraded alarm. And maybe… maybe someone to walk me out at night if Elijah’s not there. But I still need to feel like this is my life. Mine. Not something I’m surviving.”
There’s silence for a moment—respectful, not heavy. Then Kade inclines his head, like I’ve passed some kind of quiet test.
“Fair enough,” he says. “We’ll make sure you’re covered without making it feel like a prison.”
Elijah squeezes my hand, and I glance at him. His eyes say everything—pride, protectiveness, love.
And somewhere under all that, something darker. A promise.
Whoever is behind this… he won’t let them near me.
***
The house is quiet when we get back.
Too quiet.
I kick off my shoes by the door and wrap my arms around myself, suddenly so tired I could fold into the floor.
Elijah says nothing at first—he just walks behind me, locking the door, resetting the alarm, making sure everything is secure.
He always does that. Always makes sure I’m safe before anything else.
I drift into the living room, settling on the couch, knees pulled up to my chest. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, just thick with everything unspoken.
Elijah walks in a minute later and kneels in front of me. Not sitting. Kneeling. His hands are gentle on my shins.
“You okay, baby girl?” he asks softly, the nickname slipping in like a thread stitching me back together.
I nod—but it’s shaky. “I don’t want to be scared.”
“I know.” He moves his hands, one to my knee, the other cupping the side of my face. “But being scared doesn’t make you weak, Ava. It makes you human. And still, you walked into that room and stood your ground. That was strength.”
“I hated showing them the photo.” The words tumble out. “That moment… that was ours. I didn’t want to share it. But I get it. I do. It just—”
“Felt like a violation?” he finishes for me. His thumb rubs a slow circle on my skin.
I nod again, tears suddenly burning behind my eyes.
“I never wanted anyone to see you like that,” he says, voice rougher now. “Not because I’m ashamed—God, no. Because that’s mine. Your surrender. Your trust. It’s sacred. It’s ours.”
“I know.”
He leans in and presses his forehead to mine. “You said yes to that moment. You trusted me. And when I asked you to share it—for your safety—you said yes again. That’s not just brave. That’s fucking extraordinary.”
A tear escapes, trailing down my cheek. He kisses it away.
“I trust you, Daddy,” I whisper.
“I know, baby.” His hand slides around to cradle the back of my head. “And I won’t forget what you gave me tonight. What you gave them. But that part of us? It’s still just ours. No photo, no threat, no ghost from your past can touch what we’re building.”
His kiss is slow, grounding. Not claiming—anchoring.
And when he pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me, I let myself melt there. Safe. Protected. Loved.
“I’ve got you, baby girl” he murmurs against my hair. “Always.”
And this time, I believe it down to the marrow of my bones.
His arms stay around me, firm and unyielding, and I sink deeper into his chest, the steady beat of his heart syncing with mine. For a long while, we just breathe together, the hush of the house wrapping around us like a blanket.
Then I feel it—the subtle shift in him. The way his hands start to move, not urgent, just intentional. One drifts up my back, the other cups my cheek again, tilting my face to look at him. His eyes are darker now, but soft. Always soft for me.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers.
I nod before I even fully process the words. Because I know what he means. Not just sex. Care. Connection. Healing through the way we touch, the way we give ourselves to each other.
He stands, cradling me in his arms like I weigh nothing, and carries me to the bedroom. The moment he lays me down, he doesn’t reach for my clothes—he reaches for me, climbing into bed and hovering over me, our eyes locked.
“Elijah,” I breathe.
“Shhh,” he soothes. “Let Daddy remind you that you’re mine. That you’re safe.”
His kiss is gentle at first, brushing over my lips like a promise. Then it deepens—slow, deliberate, consuming me in the way only he can. His fingers slide under the hem of my shirt, skimming the bare skin of my waist, and I arch into his touch, craving more.
He undresses me slowly, reverently. Every movement is a caress, every glance a worship. When he peels away my clothes, he does it like I’m a gift he’s unwrapping, one he’s still amazed he gets to keep.
I reach for his shirt, and he lets me take it off, baring the body I know so well, the ink I’ve traced a hundred times with my fingers and tongue. But it’s his eyes I’m drawn to—how they hold me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
He settles between my thighs, pressing a kiss to my collarbone, then lower. His hands are everywhere, grounding me, coaxing the tension from my body one touch at a time.
When he finally enters me, it’s with a slow, careful thrust that makes us both exhale—him with a low groan, me with a broken whimper. He doesn’t rush. He moves with purpose, rocking into me like he’s trying to etch himself into every part of me.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, brushing my hair from my face.
I do. And what I see there undoes me.
Not just lust. Love. Devotion. Fierce protectiveness.
“This is who you are to me,” he says. “Not a victim. Not someone who needs saving. You’re my girl. Strong. Brave. Mine.”
My fingers dig into his shoulders as I nod, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes again—but this time, they’re not from fear. They’re from being held.
Loved.
By the time we fall apart together, gasping each other’s names, I feel wrung out and whole all at once.
He stays inside me for a long moment, forehead pressed to mine, his breath warm against my lips.
And when he finally pulls me into his arms again, tucking me close, his voice is low and sure.
“No matter what comes, I’ve got you, baby girl.”
I close my eyes against his chest, safe in the only place I’ve ever truly belonged.