16. Cassie #2
“I don’t…” He stops and takes a breath. “I don’t do this. I don’t feel things. I’m not built for it.”
“For what?”
“For this.” He finally turns to look at me, and what I see in his face makes my chest go tight. It’s fear, real and deep and unguarded. “I don’t know how to do this, Cassie. I don’t know how to be what you need.”
“Who said anything about what I need? What about what you need?”
“What I need doesn’t matter.”
“That’s garbage.” I step closer and put my hand flat on his chest, feeling his heart racing under my palm. “Tell me what you need, Elliot. Right now. Be honest with me for once.”
He’s silent for a long beat. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
“I need you to stay. I need you to not leave when this gets hard, when I get difficult, when my walls go back up and I push you away, because that’s what I’ve always done.” His hand comes up to cover mine. “I need you to fight for this even when I make it hard to.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll stay.” I rise on my toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “I’ll fight. As long as you promise to do the same.”
“I promise.”
“Then come back to bed.” I take his hand and tug him toward the mattress. “We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow. Tonight I just want to be with you.”
We climb back in together and he wraps himself around me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. I feel the tension slowly bleed out of him, his breathing evening out as sleep starts to pull him under again.
“Cassie?” he murmurs.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For staying.”
“Always.”
And I mean it. Despite how fast this is moving, despite every reason I have to be careful, I mean it. That terrifies me almost as much as it thrills me.
***
Morning arrives with golden light and the smell of coffee.
I stretch, and my whole body reminds me of the night in the best possible way. The bed beside me is empty again, but this time I can hear movement downstairs, the clink of dishes, the low murmur of Elliot’s voice on what sounds like a phone call.
I take my time getting up, wrap myself in one of his robes, and detour to the bathroom to survey the damage. My hair is a disaster, my mouth is soft and swollen, and there’s a mark blooming on my collarbone that’s going to need concealer for a week. I’ve never looked better in my life.
By the time I get downstairs, Elliot has finished his call and is standing at the kitchen island with two cups of coffee. He looks freshly showered, dressed in a casual shirt and slacks, his hair still slightly damp.
“Good morning.” He hands me a cup. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got thoroughly spoiled by a handsome billionaire.” I take a sip and hum. “Delicious, by the way.”
“The coffee or the company?”
“Both.”
His smile is smug and satisfied. “Good. I plan on more of both.”
“Promises, promises.”
He sets his coffee down and moves toward me, backing me gently against the counter, his hands finding my waist over the robe. “Want me to prove it?”
“Here? In the kitchen?”
“I’m not particularly picky about location.” He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “I intend to be a very attentive host. Every room of this house, eventually.”
My breath catches despite myself. “That’s ambitious.”
“I’m an ambitious man.” He kisses the corner of my jaw. “Starting with breakfast, if you’d stop distracting me.”
“You started it.”
“I did.” He doesn’t sound sorry.
“Elliot, we should probably…”
The doorbell rings.
We both freeze. His expression shifts from warmth to annoyance in half a second.
“Ignore it,” he says, his hands tightening on my waist.
“Could be important.”
The doorbell rings again. And again. And then someone starts pounding on the door with what sounds like both fists.
“Elliot!” A shrill, familiar voice cuts through the morning quiet. “Elliot, I know you’re in there! Open the door!”
My blood runs cold. Celine.
“Let me in!” More banging. “Please! I have nowhere else to go! Charles broke up with me and I have nothing!”
Elliot’s jaw tightens. “Stay here.”
“Elliot…”
“Stay here.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll handle this.”
He strides toward the front door, and I follow at a distance, unwilling to let him face her alone but not entirely sure I’m ready to see her again either. Not after last night. Not after everything.
He opens the door, and there she is.
Celine looks even worse than Charles did at the function. Her hair is tangled and greasy. Her makeup is smeared down her face. She’s wearing what looks like the same dress she had on the day Elliot kicked her out, wrinkled and stained now.
“Finally!” She tries to push past him into the house. “You have to help me. Charles says he never wants to see me again. He blamed all of it on me. I lost my job and I don’t have anywhere to…”
She stops mid-sentence as she spots me in the kitchen doorway. In Elliot’s robe. With a very obvious mark on my collarbone.
Her expression unravels in stages. Shock. Confusion. Realization. Horror. And then, settling into place, rage.
“You,” she hisses. “You’re still here.”
“I live here now.” I can’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “Didn’t Elliot mention?”
“You can’t, you can’t just…” She’s sputtering, unable to finish a sentence. “He’s my husband!”
“And Charles was mine. Funny how that works out.”
“I’m not leaving.” Celine plants her feet and crosses her arms. “This is my home. You can’t just kick me out and replace me with this, this…”
“Careful,” Elliot says, his voice dangerously soft. “Think very carefully about what you say next.”
“Or what? You’ll call the police? Make a scene?” She laughs, and there’s an edge of hysteria in it. “I have nothing left to lose, Elliot. Charles dumped me. I got fired. The prenup means I walk away with nothing. What else can you possibly do to me?”
“I can make sure every door in this city stays closed to you.” His voice is ice. “No one hires you, no one rents to you, no one returns your calls. You think you’ve hit the bottom? You have no idea how much further down there is.”
Celine’s face goes pale. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
For a moment nobody moves, and the tension is thick enough to choke on. Then her gaze slides back to me, and something in her expression shifts, hardens, turns almost calculating.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll leave.” She points a shaking finger at me. “You think you’ve won? You think you can just swoop in and take everything I had? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I say calmly. “A woman who slept with someone else’s husband and is now shocked that actions have consequences.”
“You won’t get away with this.” Her voice rises. “Both of you. I’ll make sure everyone knows what you did to me. How you seduced Elliot while you were still married, how you manipulated him, how you...”
“Get out.” Elliot’s voice is final. “Now. Before I call security and have you removed.”
Celine looks between us, her chest heaving, her eyes wild. For a second I actually think she might launch herself across the threshold at me. Instead she turns and storms back toward the driveway. But at the edge of the path she stops. Turns. And screams loud enough for the whole street to hear.
“This isn’t over, Cassie! Do you hear me? This isn’t over!”
Then she’s gone around the corner, leaving nothing but the echo of the threat hanging in the morning air.
Elliot closes the door and turns to face me, his expression grim.
“That woman is unhinged,” I say.
“She’s desperate. Desperate people do stupid things.”
“Should we be worried?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then he crosses the room and pulls me into his arms again.
“Whatever she does,” he says, “we handle it together.”
I want to believe him. I want to sink into the safety of his arms and trust that everything will be fine.
But I can’t shake the feeling that Celine meant every word.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.