007n7 X Elliot Novels & Stories

Then Helen and Richard left, saying that they would come to see me tomorrow. Jeffrey stood outside the door, hesitant to leave. "Audrey, we can never be together again, right?" Hearing this, Kash wanted to go up and hit him, but I stopped Kash. "Yes. "I’ve been unhappy for the past seven years. Jeffrey, how many seven years are there in one’s life?"

"Elliott, can you lend me seventy thousand dollars?" The lively chatter in the private room of the bar ceased abruptly, as if someone had flipped a switch. Elliott Mason's expression darkened in an instant. His deep, unreadable eyes locked onto mine, piercing and unrelenting. "Seventy thousand? What for?" Before I could answer, a soft laugh broke the silence. It came from Tiffany Taylor, Elliott's childhood friend sitting by his side.

He handed me a cup of hot cocoa, his fingers brushing the back of my hand, warmth seeping into my skin and making my heart skip a beat. "I hear you're the new illustrator? I really like your work." His voice was a rich, deep baritone. I stared into his amber eyes that held a pure admiration I had never once seen in Jared's eyes. There was no calculation or weighing of value in his eyes. He looked at me because of...me. It didn't take long for us to fall in love. Little by little, his passionate warmth drew me out of the shadows of my past. The day Colin took me to see the ocean, the sunset painted the water in shimmering gold. Suddenly, he dropped to one knee in the sand and pulled a diamond

He exhaled slowly and forced himself forward again, typing faster now, sharper, pushing through systems like he could outrun the memory. He couldn’t. It lingered. Not loud. Not overwhelming. Just there. A constant pressure at the edge of his thoughts. He shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders slightly before leaning closer to the screen. Focus. A flicker caught his eye. Sector seven. Elliot’s gaze sharpened instantly. His fingers moved, pulling up the anomaly. A delay. Small. Barely noticeable. But it wasn’t supposed to be there. He leaned in further, scanning through the layers.

Behind us, the camera flashes kept striking the tinted window until we cleared the gate. Inside the cabin, it was quiet. Elliot sat on the edge of the seat. He hadn't taken his gloves off. The thick, padded nylon sat on his knees as he stared ahead at the back of the driver's headrest. His chest was heaving, his breathing fast for a player who had already been off the ice for fifteen minutes. "Elliot, Baby " I said. He didn't move. He didn't look at me. His eyes were wide, fixed on nothing. The tight, defensive scent he usually carried was gone, replaced by the metallic smell of shock.

Eyes scanning constantly for someone richer, someone crueler. This was Elliot’s kind of party. All surface. All rot. “Nathan! There you fucking are.” Of course. Elliot’s voice always came with that punchable charm—cocky, whiny, smug. A man who thought wearing Tom Ford made him dangerous. He sauntered over with two blondes trailing behind him like trained pets—identical tits, identical heels, and identical IQs. “Big fucking night,” he grinned, handing me a new glass like I needed it. “Chloe and—fuck, I don’t know, Tits McGee—won’t shut up about your last little… acquisition.”

Suddenly, a fat hand extended over. “Hey, come and have a drink with me.” The overweight man dragged me toward the washroom. Just as I was about to be dragged into the washroom, Jeremy, who was focused on finding Bailey, finally realized what was happening to me. His eyes were bloodshot as he punched the pervert. He did not stop until the pervert was covered in blood. Jeremy then hugged me with his trembling hands. “Don’t worry, I’m here. It’s fine now.” I grabbed his arms, and it was as if I had been transported back in time to that rainy night seven years ago.

Next day, I sit down next to Xavier on the floor squeezing my eyes shut and trying to calm my racing heart from the amount of exercise I've done today. We've just gone over the same obstacles on the mud pit three times, but now Elliot demands more speed and efficiency. To prove that it's not ‘that difficult’ he did it first and finished in five minutes. I must agree that he looked exceptionally sexy crawling and running shirtless and muddy. I hate not being able to be able to turn off my attraction to him.

The attack didn't last long, though. Two hours later, Brian finally made it back to the hotel with the others. He kept dialing Shiloh's number the whole time, but it never connected. Panic ate at him like something vital was slipping out of his chest. He even asked around for help searching. That's when his phone lit up—Carmoria calling. "Hello, is this Brian Ashton?" His chest seized up. He grabbed at it. "Yeah... who's this?" The voice on the other end cracked with sorrow. "Your wife, Shiloh Quinn, died in an accident seven days ago. We just found her body. Please come back right away."