Mag-log inHe touched himself as he sketched the different positions he could fuck her in. Jax desperately wanted his sex toy back.“Delilah. Please.”Jax thought about his brother’s cock—the way it used to fuck him into pure ecstasy and leave him flooded with pleasure-filled sensations as his own cock leaked cum. And while Emilia slept, he fucked himself with a condom-wrapped cucumber while watching gay porn.His voice was gone by the time the light outside the windows began to change.Emilia found him like that. She pushed the door open with her shoulder because her hands were full of purchase documents, and stopped dead.Bottles of alcohol littered every surface. Drawings covered everything—scattered across the table, the floor, taped to the walls in places. All of the same woman. Delilah.Jax was half-naked and half-collapsed over the drafting table, shirt hanging open, eyes red and swollen, still murmuring the name like it was the only word left in his mouth. “Delilah. Please.”Something u
After Emilia berated him for his frivolous spending, Jax had walked out on her and spent the night in the guest house—only to resume his pleading the next day.And this time it was obvious Jax was trying too hard with the gifts he sent—too many roses, pure gold jewelry and diamond rings, rare custom couture gowns he had designed and sewn himself, all accompanied by a full ensemble of matching shoes, accessories, and perfumes. He gave them all to Delilah.He had even included a new car key still nestled in its velvet pouch, along with a note he had rewritten three times before settling on the exact words.Forgive me.Let’s make this work.Jax.He made certain everything was arranged precisely as he envisioned it, then instructed the delivery service to take the entire collection straight to Silver’s estate and to call him the moment Delilah accepted his peace offering.Two hours later he sat worrying when the call never came.Meanwhile Delilah was having a showdown of her own. She had
“Open the door… please.”Jax stood outside Silver’s mansion, drunk off his ass, rain dripping down his face, his whole weight against the door. He pressed the doorbell again and again.“Delilah. Open the door.”No answer.He banged harder. “I know you’re in there. Just talk to me. Five minutes.”Still nothing.He rested his forehead against the wood and jabbed the button repeatedly. “Please. I’m begging you. Don’t shut me out like this.”Silence.“You won’t answer my calls or my texts. Just let me in, okay? I need to talk to you.” His knocks got heavier. “Delilah! I know you can hear me! Open the fucking door!”From the other side of the door, Delilah’s voice came through, cold and clear.“Go home, Jax.”A flicker of hope flashed in his eyes for a second. He tried to straighten up but nearly fell, and quickly he caught the doorframe for support. “I can’t. Not until you listen to me,” he slurred.“There’s nothing left to listen to. I want nothing to do with you again.”“Delilah—”“Stop
“I belong to myself!” She hit his chest hard, but he didn’t move. “We could've lived happily ever after if you didn’t try to own me. I am not your possession Jax! You found a way to ruin everything. Don’t you just deserve a fucking standing ovation?”From the stairs, Emilia’s voice cut in, the hurt in her voice was audible. “You two are so pathetic. Bickering like animals while I’m lying here bleeding, after you both tried to kill me. You’re both filth.”Delilah turned her head just enough to glance at her, a cold little smile curling her mouth. “Still talking Emilia? If I were you, I’d focus on trying to stay alive till help comes. You look pale and ready to die.”Emilia’s face twisted. “Jax, how can you stand by and watch this happen to me because of your mistress? You almost killed me because of that tramp! If you don’t call the ambulance, and throw her out right now, I swear I’ll—”“You’ll what?” Delilah interrupted. “Cry harder? Call the press? Tell them about your sad little lif
(Third Person POV) Delilah’s heels struck the marble hard as she walked up the stairs furiously elegant, voice rising with every step. “Jax! Jax!” The name echoed off the high ceilings. Maids scattered and then hurried after her, calling soft warnings that she ignored. “Miss Delilah—please—Madam is—” “Move out of my way!” she snapped without looking back. Doors opened along the upper landing. Emilia appeared first, silk robe clutched closed, face already tightening with dislike. Jax stepped out behind her, shirt half-buttoned, hair still damp from a shower of his own. “Why the hell are you yelling like a banshee in my house?” Emilia snapped. Delilah barely glanced at her. “I’m not here for you, Emilia. Take your ugly face out of my sight. I’m here for Jax.” Jax’s eyes locked on Delilah’s. Something dark and hungry moved behind them. “Come with me Delilah. Let’s talk privately in my study.” “You bastard!” Delilah closed the distance instead, and her palm cracked ac
Delilah Amour (First Person POV) I was sitting on the edge of the bed after a cold shower, the silk sheets cool against my bare thighs. Water still ran down my back and dripped from my hair onto the towel I’d half-wrapped around myself. In one hand I held a glass of red wine I hadn’t touched; in the other, was the remote. The morning show’s host droned on about Silver case nonstop— grainy footage of him in handcuffs kept replaying on the screen, talking heads dissecting the charges, the fall of another golden boy they headlined it. Everything hit me at once. I was staring at the TV but my mind was somewhere else. The humiliation at Emilia’s party—the way she had smiled that polished, victorious smile while the room watched me shrink, still burned under my skin. Silver was still locked up behind bars. Jax, and the decision I had turned over in my mind all night were giving me a headache. The paparazzi camped outside Silver’s place like vultures with cameras irked me. And und







