5. Elena
Chapter five
Elena
It smells like money in here…
White orchids line the walls in carefully curated excess, their petals bruised with gold accents that reflect the overhead lights.
Champagne flutes clink softly, laughter floating effortlessly across the room.
Everything about tonight is polished, exactly the kind of environment I need to advertise my brand in.
I smile until my cheeks ache and redden.
Adrian stays two steps behind me, as usual, in a dark suit, with his white shirt open at the chest, revealing the dark ink across his skin. He’s a masterpiece.
That unreadable expression is carved into his face, as if God personally molded him to intimidate. I don’t turn to check on him. I never do anymore, because I know he’ll be there and, strangely enough, that fuels my ego even more.
My heels click against the marble, my eyes lighting up as the mayor of New York approaches, his wife clasped onto his arm like a proud accessory.
“Elena Rossi,” he says warmly, extending a hand. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
“The pleasure is all mine, sir,” I reply, voice smooth, chin lifted.
His wife practically beams. “I just love your serums. I tell him all the time; if I could bathe in them, I would.”
I laugh softly, pride welling up in my chest. If the mayor’s wife loves it, then she’ll definitely say it to one or two people. “I’ll take that as the highest compliment, and look how it makes you glow!”
The mayor nods, approving. “My wife hasn’t stopped raving since she attended your last launch in New Jersey. Quality like that doesn’t happen by accident. If you ever need anything—connections, permits, support—please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
There it is. The hook I’ve been trying to get him and some other prospects on.
I thank him politely, already calculating how useful that sentence could be during my next launch, a few months from now.
The mayor moves on, dragged away by another enthusiastic brand owner, probably seeking support as well.
As I watch his wife, I can’t help but think of Melanie, my stepmother. Same mannerisms and stature, except Melanie always played favorites.
And as much as I hate to admit that I was on the receiving end of her favoritism as opposed to my older twin sister, Bella, that was the beginning of mine and Bella’s undoing.
After shit hit the fan, Melanie fled to a small town in Mexico, where she married a small gang leader. Sometimes I wonder how she’s doing, but she’s cut me—her old life—off.
I turn around to smile sweetly at another fan when my eyes lock with her cold, blue eyes.
Camila fucking Drey.
She’s dressed in yellow. A color I don’t think suits her ghostly skin.
“Elena,” she drawls, lips curling in a sardonic smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
I turn slowly, schooling my expression into indifference. “Funny. Since I’m a sponsor at the event.”
She smiles wider, predatory. “Yes. With your uncle’s influence, I suppose it’s very easy to sponsor… anything. Unlike me, who’s really struggling to build my brand with just determination and hard work.”
There it is. The slight emphasis on uncle. She never fails to play the independent woman card in my face every time she sees me; meanwhile, she’s a jealous bitch who can’t stand a fellow woman’s success.
That’s how the outside world termed my relationship with Enzo after he took over all of Father’s establishments.
I inhale calmly, already feeling the familiar coil of anger tightening in my chest. “My brand earned its place…”
Camila steps closer, lowering her voice like she’s offering a secret. “Earned it how? With your family’s money? Using pretty privilege? Or are you sucking dicks now to keep engagement up?”
I stare at her in disbelief. I knew she’d always retort something stupid, but these words hit harder than I expected. How dare she?
Heat floods my face, not from embarrassment or guilt but out of pure fury. My mouth opens, venomous retorts stacked and ready…
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
Adrian’s voice slices through the space between us like a blade.
I freeze.
Camila’s gaze flicks past me, irritation flashing when she registers him properly. He’s beside me now, towering above both of us.
“And you are?” She fakes a smile.
“Someone who knows defamation when he hears it,” Adrian says flatly. His hands are in his pockets, but from the bulge, I can tell he’s clenching them. “And the man whose bad side you don’t want to test tonight.”
She blanches. Then her smile twitches as she briefly turns her gaze to me. “I see, you got yourself a… hot minion?” Then back to Adrian. “Relax, hottie, we were just talking.”
Adrian steps half a foot closer to me, not touching, but shielding like he’s claiming me.
“Leave,” he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or I’ll make sure this entire room remembers you for the wrong reasons.”
Camila’s jaw tightens as her eyes flash. People nearby pretend very hard not to listen, but I can see Maxine and Selene, the infamous twin owners of a gossip blog, inching closer and closer toward us.
She turns around, storming off, her heels clicking furiously against the marble.
Unable to steady my legs, I stare at the spot she occupied, pulse racing, throat tight.
Adrian turns to me. “You’re as white as death.”
I can’t even be pissed at his remark.
“Thank you,” I mutter, sniffing back the tears threatening to well up in my eyes.
His face is blank as he steps back. “Doing my job.”
I don’t know what I expected him to say, but for some reason, that stings even more than Camila’s words. I gather the train of my dress and stomp away from him.
***
The ride home is quiet.
City lights blur past the window as Adrian maneuvers through the quiet streets. I sit rigidly, my hands folded in my lap, replaying Camila’s voice over and over and then Adrian’s voice afterwards.
I steal a glance at him sideways. His jaw is tight, eyes focused blankly on the road. He looks unbothered for someone who just snapped at another woman in public.
“I appreciate what you did back there,” I say softly. “You didn’t have to.”
He doesn’t speak, and I find myself sinking deeper into the backseat, my mind drifting through several memories.
“I mean, I love being this successful, independent woman who has her shit together. But there’s… there’s a side to success that people rarely speak about.” I can’t help the vulnerability that slips in.
“…Sometimes it feels like being famous just makes you a slave to the public.”
I remember reaching out to Bella one time when it became too much. She gave a few words of encouragement, and one thing stuck. There’s a price to pay to achieve any precious thing in life, whether good or bad.
“Camila…the bitch you saved me from…” I scoff bitterly, “…was in the industry years before me. And I think she’s just jealous that my brand can stand shoulder to shoulder with hers now.
I’m trying to change the narrative that a girl can be at the top of her game without doing dirty, compromising things.
Without help or privileges or someone’s money or… ”
I sigh, trailing off.
“…But the truth is, it’s hard. People just think I’m all beauty and tend to overlook my brains.”
It’s only when I finish that I realize I’ve just been rambling—pouring my heart out. And I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not the humiliating silence that settles between us.
Equal parts irritation and embarrassment strain my chest. I’m about to ask if he thinks being mute makes him look cool when he turns, looks me dead in the eyes with a certain conviction, and says, “What brains?”
The words land like a slap to my face. This bastard. He did not just—
“You bastard! Out of everything I said, that’s the only thing you deem fit to say?”
“I’m a guard, not a therapist,” he mutters dryly, turning his attention back to the road.
My jaw hangs open. This rude fucker. “I was thanking you!”
He doesn’t respond, just smoothly swerves the wheel into the next turn.
“A simple ‘you’re welcome’ would have sufficed.” Irritated, I jab a finger in his direction. This is the rudest, most arrogant motherfucker I’ve met in my entire life. And trust me, I’ve met a lot of people.
His jaw ticks. “I did my job, not a favor.”
That only ignites my irritation.
“And does the job description include being a grinch with a superiority complex?”
“Quiet, Elena,” he growls, fist tightening around the wheel.
Unbelievable!
I sit up, struggling to contain the anger rising in my chest. No bodyguard I’ve ever had riled me up this much!
“You know what I think? I think that you’re an insufferable bastard, and I want you gone. And I swear I’ll have Enzo kick you out before tomorrow.”
His biceps pulse, and I restrain myself from licking my lips.
“I don’t appreciate baseless threats.”
A surprised smirk curves my lips. “Why? Is your tough-guy facade fading so quickly?”
His gaze finally snaps to me, dark and searching. “There’s no facade, Elena. Only the monster and the lock,” he whispers. “Keep picking the lock and see how hungry he gets.”
Something about the way he says it makes my pulse skip, and my gaze involuntarily falls to his crotch. He catches me, and I quickly look away, suddenly flustered.
“Indulge me, Mr. Cole,” I manage to scoff.
Something shifts in his eyes. A fracture in the armor.
The car slows to a stop as Adrian leans closer, his arm still on the steering wheel in front of him.
“I don’t indulge, Principessa; I consume, and I take everything...
your voice, your fight, your body, and your mind, until all you know is my will and your obedience. ”
I swallow thickly. “Is that a threat?”
“A threat?” he smirks, his hand shooting out, fingers wrapping around my throat.
“No darling… This is just a reminder. A reminder that if you keep provoking me, I promise you’ll drown in me.
In pain…in pleasure. And you’ll beg to go under again.
” His gaze darkens with intent, pupils blown wide with something feral.
My breath hitches as his thumb drags heavily across my pulse twice before he lets go.
“Now sit back and be fucking quiet,” he grunts, settling himself in the driver’s seat.
I remain frozen in the backseat, the air between us thickening. Heat creeps into my chest, spreading downward in a way I pretend not to recognize.
I should sit back and keep my mouth shut, just like he said, but that’s not going to satisfy what he’s awakened inside me, so I lean in and muster the strongest voice I can.
“You wouldn’t da—”
Before I can finish, he climbs into the backseat, and his lips crush mine like he’s been waiting for an excuse.
His mouth moves slow at first, as if he’s hesitant.
Then it deepens and his restraint snaps.
His mouth molds to mine with hungry intention, hands gripping my waist as if I’m oxygen and he’s dying.
When his lips trail down my jaw, I gasp from the sharp thrill of his teeth grazing my skin and the realization that we’ve already pulled up and parked inside the mansion. “Adrian, someone will see us…”
“You taunted the devil, Principessa. Time to dine with him,” he growls, breath hot against my neck.
That’s all it takes.
He presses me back against the seat, mouth claiming me fully now, hands exploring with reverent desperation. The storm he holds inside finally leaks out. I melt into him, my fingers threading into his hair, my heart pounding.
One hand trails from my neck to my collarbone, pausing there to replace the touch with a nip of his teeth. His hands soon reclaim their spot, easing gently into my braless outfit. I gasp as his fingers find my nipples, rubbing them in a steady rhythm.
“Don’t you dare make a sound,” he rumbles against my lips. My clit is throbbing crazily now, with a speed I never knew was possible. My thighs are drenched from overstimulation.
My heart is racing from the fear of what could happen if someone saw us, and the excitement of actually being fucked again by Adrian. The first time we had sex at that masquerade ball, I came so hard I felt the reverberation for three whole days.
And honestly… I couldn’t wait to feel it again.
He tears his mouth away from mine. “Lift your hands.” My arms shoot above my head immediately. He swipes his belt off his waist smoothly, wrapping it around my wrists to keep them firmly in place.
Whoa! The anticipation of what he’ll do now that I can’t lay my hands on him….
His hands cup my breasts whole and hard, squeezing as he drives his tongue into me. I can feel his other hand stray from my hips, finding its way past all the layers of my dress to slip itself between my thighs.
My hips buck, eager to have those thick digits inside of me. Instead, he scrapes the edge of his fingernail lightly down my thigh, arousing both sting and pleasure.
He pulls his lips back from mine, penetrating eyes staring back at me as his hand trails further between my thighs. My lips part in a low moan as his finger strokes my lace thong.
“Is that a moan I hear?” He rasps, pressing his finger hard on my clit. My back arches forward, eyes snapping shut as a tingling sensation rushes through my blood.
Fuck.
“Words,” he growls, pinching hard on my nipple.
I shake my head, my lips trembling. “N…no.”
“Lie to me again, and I’ll take you outside and fuck you senseless for every damn eye to see.” He closes a powerful hand over my mouth and adds another finger over my clit, increasing the pace of his motion there. I can feel my release nearing now, my hips riding madly to the rhythm of his fingers.
Both his hands are working steadily on me now, one on my nipple, the other on my pussy. When he pushes the thong aside, fingers finding my slick wetness, he groans.
I’m about to moan in response when he lowers his head to my breasts, sucking, nipping…biting. Then his fingers slide in. Oh…fuck!
He thrusts slowly, teasing me with his tongue and fingers at the same time. His other hand wraps around my neck, applying just enough pressure to choke back any sound I try to make.
My eyes water, but I’ll have it no other way as he plunges and curls deeper inside me until a cry breaks free from my throat, and an orgasm hits my pussy like a violent wave.
His fingers stay inside me until I can grasp a hold of myself, my trembling hips finally settling back against the seat. Then he slides his fingers out, sucking my cum off them as he stares darkly at me.
Heat flushes over me like I haven’t just soaked his hand to the wrist in my release and watched him taste every drop.
I whimper in response.
“The next time you run your mouth, I’ll leave you bound to this seat, and I will fuck every single word right out of your throat until you won’t remember your own name, let alone how to walk. Don’t push me to cross that line.”
He unbuckles the belt from my wrists. Then he straightens his suit and gets out of the car, slamming the door.