Chapter 25

LOUIS

I couldn't breathe. Not because I was winded, not because I was hurting—God only knows I'd had my share of that—but because Elias was kissing me like he needed to possess every breath in my lungs. 

I don't know who moved first. Maybe we both did. All I knew was that one second I was staring into his eyes in the dim hallway, and the next our lips slammed together like we had been starved. His hand wrapped tightly around the back of my neck, tugging me close until I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling and gripping like I needed him to survive.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. There was nothing careful or tender about the way our mouths collided—just hunger. Raw, dangerous, unfiltered need. I moaned into his mouth and was shocked by how natural it felt. How right and wrong collided in my chest like a storm.

His hands roamed my body with practiced ease. He slid one down the curve of my back and folded his arms around my waist like he was claiming it, pulling me flush against him. My body responded before my mind was even aware—I arched into him, mouth opening wider, letting him in. He tasted like fine whiskey and violence on my tongue, like all the things I wasn't meant to want. But I did. I wanted him with a type of hunger that frightened me.

My fingers crept beneath his shirt, tracing the grooves of his stomach. His breath hitched and for an instant, he pulled back—just far enough to glance at me. Our foreheads touched, our heavy breaths mingled. His hand was splayed over my hip now, hot and firm. I could feel the heat of him through the thin material of my clothes, and something inside me cracked.

"Elias…" I whispered, unsure of what I was begging for—more or mercy.

He answered by tilting my chin and kissing me again, harder this time. His tongue moved across mine with bruising intensity, and my knees threatened to give out. I gasped when his hand cradled me between my legs, bold and unapologetic. He didn’t fumble or rush, but merely held me there, pressing, teasing, rubbing. I whimpered, gripping him harder as my entire body flared like a fuse.

I did the same—my hand moving instinctively to return the favor, fingers sliding over him, feeling how hard he was. He groaned into my mouth, the sexy sound making a bead of wetness drip from my aching member. His hips moving against mine, and for an instant, I thought that we were going to completely lose ourselves, right there in the hall.

But then, just as fast, he pulled back.

The space between us was filled with heavy breaths and the unbearable weight of what we’d just done. Elias took a step back, his hand trembling as he ran it through his auburn locks. His eyes—God, those eyes—burned with something that looked like regret wrapped in longing.

“This…” he said, voice low and hoarse, “This can’t keep happening Louis.”

I blinked in shock. My lips were swollen, my skin still burning from his touch, and all I could muster was a moronic nod.

He turned on his heel without saying another word and sped off down the hall, leaving me breathless, aroused, and utterly confused.

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Getting used to Elias's world wasn't a matter of flipping a switch on. It was more like being dropped into ice water and ordered to swim before you drowned.

The house was gigantic—too massive. I didn’t belong in a house like this, with gold trimmings, marble floors, and silent corridors that seemed to gaze back at me. Elias had assigned me a room at the end of the east wing. It had a plush bed, a walk-in closet, and a view of the city skyline—but it wasn't home. It was a gilded cage.

I walked through it as if I was a guest in someone else's bad dream. Every corridor had guards that nodded brusquely when they caught a glimpse of me. I didn't know their names, but I knew they were trouble. I could feel it in my bones.

The only thing that remained the same was the silence. Elias never spoke to me again after that evening. He didn't look for me or drop by to visit. He simply disappeared into his kingdom of crime and lies, leaving me to question whether that kiss had been a misstep—or even worse, a test.

Clothing in the closet fit me perfectly. Tailored shirts. Fitted trousers. Shoes that probably cost more than the rundown house I lived in. I wore them anyway. Because this was my life now. Because going back to the other one was not an option.

I kept myself busy. Tried to learn the routines. Talked to the housekeeper, Aria, who was kinder than the others. I found comfort in small things—the peaceful moments on the balcony, the occasional piano playing that came from some secret room, the garden I discovered on the west side where no one else seemed to go.

But I couldn't help but think of him.

I couldn't help but recall the way his mouth had tasted, the weight of his hand on my skin, the tone of his voice when he said this can't happen again. My brain cycled it like a curse, a punishment. What was I?

I wasn't meant to feel this way. I wasn't meant to fall for a man such as him. A killer. A man who issued ultimatums and dealt in death. But I had. God help me, I had.

And worse?

I didn't regret it.

I was sitting in the library that night at a table pretending to read a book I couldn't concentrate on. The place smelled like sandalwood and expensive bourbon, and my chest ached in that way it always did when I thought about what I’d left behind.

And then I heard footsteps.

I jerked my head up—too quickly—and found Elias standing in the doorway, his eyes unreadable.

"We need to talk," he said.

I swallowed. My heart was racing in my chest. "About what?"

He walked in, closing the door. "Us."

I froze.

He moved slowly, deliberately, like an animal creeping up on its prey—or a man approaching something he wasn’t sure he could handle.

"I told you it couldn't happen again," he said, his voice low. "But I can't seem to stop thinking about you."

The book slipped from my fingers, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

He finally reached me, and stood so close I could feel the heat of him again. "Tell me to walk away," he whispered, "and I will."

I couldn't.

I didn't.

Instead, I leaned forward… and waited for the fall.