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ELIJAH I pushed the conference room doors open harder than necessary, letting them slam against the wall as I stepped inside. The sound echoed across the polished table, and twelve suited heads snapped in my direction. Andrade was at the head of the table, sitting like a king on a throne. His expression didn’t change—not even a flicker—but I noticed the way his fingers stilled on the armrest. Good. Very good. I scanned the room quickly. And there he was. Alonso. Sitting comfortably like he had every right to be there. Leaning back, arms resting on the chair as if this was his home. Our eyes met for half a second. I looked away deliberately. He wasn’t worth the acknowledgement. Not here. Not today. I dragged out a chair to the head table, right beside Andrade’s, scraping it across the floor loudly enough to make a few of the board members flinch and sat down, not waiting for anyone to invite me or question me. “Why are we having a meeting without me?” I asked flatly. Sile
ELIJAH I woke up feeling every muscle in my body ache, but it wasn’t just exhaustion—it was satisfaction, a quiet, dark satisfaction I hadn’t felt in a long time. I rolled over and froze. Andrade. He was lying there, asleep… he was there. Beside me. That familiar fall of his hair over his forehead. That perfect jawline. Even in the soft morning light, his presence made my stomach twist. Made bile rise in my throat. How the hell did I let him get this close again? I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to look away. Every memory of nights spent alone, cold, crying, wanting him, needing him, hit me at once. Every night I begged, prayed for him, and he wasn’t there. Every time I waited for him to choose me, and he didn’t. And now… he’s here. Acting like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t left me broken. I had to get control. I had to get my armor back. I watched him for one last second, taking in his sleeping form, the curve of his shoulder, the rise and fall of his chest. M
ELIJAH I stood there in the dim light of the living room, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I did everything I could to maintain my aura, that composure that comes with coldness while all I wanted was to be moaning his name. And I could see how much Andrade was trying to keep his cool. That practiced control he was good at. He stepped closer and closer until hand shot out and grabbed the front of my shirt. His fingers twisted into the fabric, yanking me forward with that rough strength I remembered all too well. His lips crashed against mine, hot and demanding, his tongue pushing past my teeth without asking. The kiss was all fire and possession, his body pressing into me, his chest hard against mine. I could smell his cologne mixed with sweat, that familiar scent that used to make me feel safe but now just twisted my gut. I shoved him back hard, my palms flat against his shoulders, breaking the contact. Anger curled around me. Just remembering how he treated me a
ANDRADE I stood close to the door of my suite in a robe, glass of deep red wine in hand, staring at the door as if my eyes could make him appear. Five hours. Over five fucking hours. Not a single knock. Not a single sound of footsteps. Just silence. I took another slow sip and let the alcohol burn down my throat. Two bottles already gone, but it barely made the waiting any easier. In fact, it made it worse. I moved to the couch, couldn't even sit in it. Where the hell was he? Why the fuck was he taking so long? My eyes had been locked on the door the entire time, scanning every shadow, every movement, every sound. I could feel myself unraveling, though I hated admitting it. I, Andrade De Valerio, never waited for anyone. Ever. And yet here I was. Sitting on the edge of the couch, robe slipping off my shoulder, wine in one hand, the other clenched into a fist at my side. I felt like an idiot. Why the fuck was I doing this? Was I really waiting for him? Him? I thought I
ELIJAH His hand reached out, fingers trailing lightly up my arm, sending unwanted shivers down my spine. He brushed against my chest, thumb grazing over my nipple through my shirt, making it harden instantly. I clenched my jaw, fighting the heat building in my gut. He kept going, his touch deliberate, seductive as hell—fingers sliding down my side, dipping into the waistband of my pants just enough to tease. I wanted to shove him away, but my body betrayed me, leaning into it slightly. He stopped behind me, his breath hot on my neck. Then his hand cupped my ass, squeezing firmly. Fuck! Fuck, it felt good, too good, and I hated myself for the way my cock twitched in response. I was desperately waiting for that touch, even if I'd never admit it out loud. I'd tried to play it cool, but my body was starting to give in, hips shifting back just a fraction against his palm. “I'm not gay,” I said firmly, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “You should stop touching me
ELIJAH My office still smells new—leather, polished wood, glass. It’s stupid, but the scent makes something tighten in my chest. This place… it’s proof that I made it. Proof that I crawled out of the hole they left me in and built something for myself. And I did it fast. Faster than even I expected. I lean back in my chair, fingers tapping the armrest, staring at the skyline through the glass wall. I should feel satisfied. I should feel untouchable. But the truth is I feel something like hunger. The kind that never goes away. I think about everything lined up ahead of me like pieces on a board. Cristian. That bastard is next. He’s the one I want to crush. Not just ruin—crush. The image of it doesn’t scare me. It calms me. He won’t walk away from what he did to me. Not this time. Not ever. Andrade. All that’s left with him are the shares. Once I take them, it’s over. There won’t be anything left tying us together. And maybe then this stupid, empty feeling inside me will s

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