The air crackles. No one moves.
“And unless the next words out of your mouth are an apology to Ava—my girlfriend—for that sad little stunt you just pulled, I’ll make sure you never get tattooed in this city again. Not by me, not by anyone worth a damn.”
Sandra goes pale. The sultry pretense drains from her face like someone flipped a switch. The predator is gone, replaced by something small. Ashamed.
Her voice trembles, suddenly hollow. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
I can’t speak. My throat feels tight, like something lodged itself there the second she touched him—right in front of me. I know he didn’t bring me here for this. I know he didn’t ask for that attention. But it still hit like a slap.
And yet… hearing him claim me so clearly, so publicly, so fiercely—hearing that warning edge in his voice, the way hemade the entire room his—it’s the only thing keeping my knees from buckling. The only thing holding me together.
Because in that moment, there’s no doubt: I’mhis.
And everyone in this room knows it.
***
As soon as Sandra walks out of the studio, Asher gently takes Mia aside, giving us space. Elijah doesn’t say a word—just takes my hand and leads me straight to his office.
The door closes behind us, and in the next second, his hand is around my neck. Not hard—never hard—but firm, commanding. His face is inches from mine, and we’re breathing the same air.
“Did you really think I’d let someone else touch me?” he asks, voice low and sharp. “That I’d hurt you like that?”
The intensity in his eyes makes my heart stutter. I shake my head, unable to answer. “I… I don’t know,” I whisper, before pushing him back just enough to breathe on my own. He lets me.
“My mind’s messing with me,” I admit. “Nothing feels logical. And we never really talked about… exclusivity. I can’t expect you to be faithful when we never defined the rules. A woman like her—it would make sense. Not someone like me.”
His expression darkens. Dangerous. “Someone like you?” His voice is low now, a warning beneath the words. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You know what I mean, Elijah.”
“No,” he snaps. “I don’t.Tell me.”
I point to myself, and suddenly I can’t stop the words from coming, my voice rising with each breath.
“A woman likeme. Fat. Ugly. Covered in stretch marks. This stomach, these breasts—nothing about me looks likeher. I’m not radiant or toned or flawless. I’m just… ordinary. Less. I’mnothing, Elijah. And I know—God, I know—you say I’meverythingnow, but one day… one day you’ll wake up, and I won’t be enough.”
“¡THAT'S ENOUGH!”
His voice slams through the room like a shockwave. I flinch, breath caught somewhere between fear and shame. But Elijah doesn’t move closer. He doesn’t raise his voice again. He just stands there—still, tense, breathing hard. Like he’s holding back a storm.
Then, slowly, he steps toward me. His hands unclench. His voice softens, but his eyes stay fierce.
“Don’t youeverspeak about yourself like that again. You hear me?”
I look away, but he doesn’t let me. His hand gently lifts my chin until I’m forced to meet his gaze.
“You think stretch marks and curves make you less?” His thumb strokes along my jaw. “Baby girl, those marks? They’re proof you’ve lived. They’re proof you’vesurvived. This body? This body drives mecrazy. This softness, your skin, your scent—it’s mine. All of it.”
Tears start to sting at the edges of my eyes, but he doesn’t stop.
“You say you’re not enough?You’re everything.You’re mine, when you smile and when you cry, when you’re strong and when you’re spiraling. You’re not a placeholder, Ava. You’re the endgame. The whole fucking reason.”
I break. A sob escapes me, and before I can say anything, his arms are around me. He holds me against his chest like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice shaking. “I just… I got scared.”
“I know, baby. I know. But you don’t run from me when you're scared. Youcometo me. Understand?”
