10. PLEASE...

ELI’S POV

Ralph straightened slowly, jaw swelling already where my first blow had landed.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered.

“You’re acting like you’re the one fucking her. What—she’s too sweet to share?”

Something cold and an animal rose under my skin. The second punch landed harder and he went down hard this time.

One after another, each strike hotter and angrier until Rory had to grab me, hauling me back until we were pressed into a smaller space, muscles trembling against restraint.

I’d burn the entire goddamn world before I let anyone speak of her like that.

“Christ.” Rory’s sigh was heavy, edged with exasperation and something that might have been pity. “Don’t tell me you’re still in love with Rowanne.”

I snatched a bottle of water from the table, fumbled the cap off, and swallowed until my throat stung. The cold hit me but didn’t put out the heat under my skin. I glared at Rory through the sweat on my brow.

“She’s not yours anymore,” he said, bluntly. “Even if Jett isn’t alive, you know what your mother would do if she found out. And your father?”

I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead, trying to force the words into something that made sense. “I kissed her. I seduced her. What do you want me to do?” My voice cracked on the last syllable, honest and raw. “One taste and I’m fucking losing it, Rory.”

“And the company?” he shot back. “You’re going to burn everything for one woman?”

I let out a breath that tasted like whiskey and iron. The question hung there. “Is it wrong if I want both?” I asked. The admission surprised even me. “Jett had both.”

Rory stared for a long time with his eyes narrowing. “You’re insane. She’s your "dead" brother's wife. Wake the fuck up!”

I stood there, chest heaving, the aftershock of adrenaline and regret running through me like static.

Whatever I wanted, wanted her, wanted life, wanted control. I breathed in again trying to find something steady to hold onto.

I wanted them and I would have them.

The corridor glowed gold under the resort’s dim chandeliers, soft and warm light reflecting against the floors. I had come here to clear my head, to get away from everything that was clawing at me.

But the moment I turned the corner, there she was.

Rowanne.

Her silhouette stilled me mid-step. That gown, the same lace one from the photo that hugged her figure. The delicate fabric shimmered faintly as she moved, each slow step stirring something primal in me.

She looked otherworldly. A vision I wasn’t sure was real.

She froze when she saw me, clutching her purse a little tighter, those soft blue eyes widening just enough to betray the same shock that slammed through my chest. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. We just looked.

God, she was beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of beauty that made breathing feel like a sin and control feel like a punishment.

I tore my gaze away, ready to walk past her to do the right thing for once but her voice stopped me.

“Thank you.”

It was quiet and delicate like she’d plucked courage out of the air to say it.

I turned, brows drawing together. “Why are you thanking me?”

She hesitated, lowering her head. “Because I heard you… defended me.”

A humourless smile tugged at my mouth. “But I didn’t.”

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her purse, a nervous rhythm she probably didn’t notice. “So what did you do, then?” she asked softly, glancing up at me through her lashes.

“He wanted you.”

Her breath stilled. “Wanted me?”

I stepped closer. “Yeah. He wanted to know how sweet you’d taste. What it’d be like to kiss you. To touch you… fuck you.”

Her eyes widened, and I saw the tremor ripple through her.

“Eli,” she breathed, my name falling from her lips like something forbidden.

“I hated that he said it,” I admitted, each word dragging through my throat. “Because he was speaking my thoughts out loud. But I hated even more that he said it disrespectfully because I don’t just want to fuck you, Rowanne.” My voice deepened. “I want to love you. I need to... feel you.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, a faint tremor running through her shoulders.

I took a slow step forward, and she instinctively retreated to a pace, the hem of her gown brushing her ankles. My eyes flicked down, catching her bare feet shift inside delicate heels.

I took another. She tried to move back again until I said, “Stay where you are.”

Her brows pinched, her lips parting just enough for her next breath to shake.

“Eli…” she whispered like a plea or warning. I couldn’t tell.

“I told you to answer my calls, Rowanne,” I murmured, closing the distance until only inches separated us.

Her scent hit me first, her faint perfume and the sweetness that was just her.

I lifted a hand, brushing my fingers along her cheek. She turned away, flinching at the contact but not moving. Not away, not closer. Just stood there like she was fighting herself.

I lifted my hand to her face, the pads of my fingers grazing her cheek. She turned away, but I caught her chin gently, guiding her to meet my gaze.

Her skin was warm and impossibly soft beneath my touch. “You look divine tonight,” I said. It was a worship and I needed her to know.

Her breath hitched, her lips parting just slightly, and my gaze dropped to them like I had no choice because I knew she was going to bite on her lower lip nervously.

My thumb brushed over the corner of her mouth, the soft heat of her skin lighting every nerve in me. Her lips parted, a quiet, shuddering breath escaping her.

I felt her pulse flutter against my wrist. She smelled like wine and mint all tangled together.

I leaned in until my forehead rested against hers, closing the last of the distance without taking what I wanted. Her breath fanned over my mouth, shaky.

At that moment, there was nothing between us. Just the quiet thrum of her heartbeat, the heat between us.

And the unbearable tension of wanting something you were never meant to have.

I leaned in slowly, drawn by something I couldn’t stop even if I tried. I could think about how she tasted that night.

The warmth. The ache. The way she had looked at me like I was the only man left in the world.

I wanted that again. I needed it.

So I bent closer, ready to close the last inch, ready to kiss her like a dying, starving man desperate for one final taste of life.

“Please,” she whispered.

One word. Wrecked.

It tore through me like glass.

I froze, every muscle in my body going still. Her eyes glistened beneath the soft light and a sheen of tears slipped down her cheeks one after another. And God, it gutted me.

I exhaled, unevenly, the air leaving me in a low groan I barely contained.

My jaw tightened as I searched her face, so beautiful yet so broken and all I could do was hate myself for being the reason behind that pain.

Instead of kissing her mouth, I tilted her head gently, brushing my lips against her damp cheek. A single kiss, the kind meant to apologise for everything I couldn’t undo.

Her breath shivered and my lips lingered for a second longer before I leaned close to her ear, and the scent of her skin made it harder to speak.

“Goodnight,” I whispered.

Then I stepped back.

For a long moment, I just stood there, watching her with her head bowed.

And then I turned away because if I stayed one second longer, I’d break every promise I ever made to myself.