Page 11

Chapter Eleven

L ILA WINTER

“Peaches.”

The nickname slithers over my skin like poison. He’s in my personal space, close enough that I can’t fucking breathe without inhaling the same cologne that used to do something to my insides.

Six fucking years, and he still wears the same cologne.

Six years, and he still has the same cocky smile that once won me over.

It’s been six years since I found this despicable man cheating on me with another woman. The pain of hearing him call me a “game” while he was ramming inside another woman slams into me like a wrecking ball, a vicious reminder of why I hate Julian Hells.

My wolf surges forward, ready to rip him into shreds.

But instead, my hands ball into fists as I shove against his chest with all my strength and press the elevator button over and over.

Julian grunts but chuckles, stepping back as if this is amusing to him.

Then, in some small act of mercy, the Goddess hears my silent plea. The elevator doors open, and I rush out like a woman scorned.

I expect Julian to stay inside, to disappear into whatever hell he crawled out of.

I expect a few minutes of peace, just to breathe and gather my thoughts.

But of course, Julian Hells has never cared about what I want.

The bastard follows me right out onto the top floor, where it’s just the two of us, and I curse under my breath.

He steps around me. His hand reaches out, fingers grazing the air between us, trying to touch me.

I hiss, stepping back. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Fine, no touching. No touching,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk on his face tells me he’s not done. “Still, this has to be the best thing that’s happened to me in six years. Baby, you are even more beautiful than I remember.”

“Baby?” The chuckle that leaves my lips is sharp and mocking. “I stopped being anything to you the moment you fucked another woman in our apartment. Remember that, Julian? Because I sure as hell do.”

He ignores my words, stepping closer, eating up the space between us. My pulse spikes with rage.

“Don’t be like that, baby. I admit, I made a fucking mistake—”

“A mistake?” I cut him off, the vitriol in my voice loud and clear.

“A mistake is forgetting an anniversary or leaving the toilet seat up. A mistake is not fucking another woman when you knew I loved you and thought you were my whole damn world.” I pause, watching his expression twist, like he’s offended by the truth.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done, Julian. ”

His nostrils flare. The storm in his eyes brews darker, and I suddenly remember how dangerous his temper can be.

Julian has always been a brooding, hot-tempered bastard. And I had been one of those stupid girls who thought they were enough to change a man’s personality.

And that temper of his is enough to make him grip my wrist before I can avoid it. In one hard yank, he pulls me to him, our bodies pressed together, his fingers digging into my waist.

“What do you mean ‘we’re done’?” Julian’s voice is low, smeared with something ugly. “I made one mistake. I got in bed with someone else, and that’s not a fucking big deal. What? You want to tell me you’ve been celibate all these years? That you haven’t spread your legs for another man?”

His words slice into me like a blade. My throat tightens, and my mind flashes back to him.

Alaric.

The memory of him burns through me like fire. The feel of his touch, the way he made me forget that night, replaces every bad emotion in my body.

But with the way Julian is framing it, he makes it seem like I was the one who cheated. Like he wasn’t the one who destroyed something beautiful.

Julian mistakes my silence for weakness. He leans in, pressing his face into the crook of my neck before inhaling deeply.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You still smell like flowers, baby.”

Revulsion spikes through me. I struggle against him, but his grip tightens.

“Let go of me.”

“I married Aisha because I was forced to,” he says, voice dripping with frustration. “She got pregnant. We had no choice. But then she miscarried, and our marriage became one big fucking joke. I made one mistake, Lila. One. And I regret it. I want you back, baby.”

I don’t hesitate. This time, I do what I should have done when I first saw him.

My palm connects with his cheek in a brutal slap. The sharp sound cracks through the air and reverberates around us like a ping pong ball.

Julian reels back, his face twisting with shock and something far worse—anger.

“You’re insane if you think I’d ever go back to you,” I hiss.

His jaw clenches. “Why? Because you found someone else, huh?”

“That’s none of your business,” I grit out.

“It’s my fucking business, Lila, because don’t you see? This is fate. You, here, working in the same company as me? Unless…did you come here to find me?”

I let out a cold laugh. “Why the hell would I do that when you disgust me?”

“You’re upset, I get that,” he murmurs, a smooth, persuasive tone slipping into his voice. “But I hate my wife, and she hates me, too. I’ve never loved her. I love you, Lila. Always have, always will, peaches.”

His words are crystal clear. An offer meant to beguile me into thinking I’m special.

But I've never been special to Julian Hells. Not when he pretended he loved me, not when he fucked another woman in our bed and not when he’s literally offering me a chance to betray his wife. A woman who’s probably sitting home thinking she has the best man the Goddess could offer.

I pity her. So much. I was as naive as her once.

“I’d rather die than be your mistress, Julian.” My voice is as dry as this lackluster conversation.

Julian’s smile vanishes. His fingers grab and tighten around my wrist before pain shoots up my arm. “Don’t be dramatic, Lila. You—”

“Get your hands off of her.”

The deep, commanding voice slices through the air like a blade, and my heart thrums in my chest like it’s excited because our knight shining armor is here. Julian’s grip loosens instantly.

The shift in the atmosphere moves from a mild zero to a very electric one hundred.

I take Julian’s dazed state as an opportunity to rip my wrist away, stepping back just as Alaric strides into the room.

Staring at Alaric turns out to be a bad idea, because not only are his eyes stormy, his jaw flexing, and his fists clenched, but his whole presence screams one thing…bloody murder.

Julian stiffens the minute he sees Alaric.

I see it in the subtle way his shoulders lock, the way his lips press into a thin line, like a puppy facing off against a very angry wolf.

“Peaches and I were having a light conversation, uncle. This doesn’t concern you.” Julian tries to sound tough, but one minute he’s speaking and the next minute…

I gasp.

Alaric wraps his hand around Julian’s throat, slamming him into the wall beside us with a thud.

“Her name's Lila. Not peaches. Not fucking anything to you, nephew. You can play your games outside, but here? This is my space, my fucking office, my world. That means she is mine,” Alaric pauses, his breathing as harsh as his words.

Whatever he says freaks out Julian, but me? His words trail down my spine in a tantalizing shiver.

“And whatever is mine is off-limits to you, Julian. You touch her again? I’ll cut your hands off and feed them to my hounds. You even think of harassing her again, let alone breathe the same air she does, and I’ll skin you alive, boy. Get the fuck out of my building.”

Julian coughs, struggling to inhale like he’s choking before he grits out, “I’m…a senior…executive…here. You can’t—can’t kick me out.”

“You want to test me?” Alaric asks, his voice like ice.

Julian’s eyes fling to mine, then back to Alaric. He knows he can’t fight Alaric, and I know it too.

Alaric lets go of Julian, practically watching him scramble toward the elevator. My eyes remain downcast because I don’t know what to make of the situation.

I don’t know how to address the fact that my ex showed up here, and Alaric practically became my knight in shining armor.

When the elevator chimes, indicating Julian has just left, Alaric breaches the distance between us. His scent engulfs me like a warm blanket, and something inside me cracks.

Goddess, I'm not crying because I miss Julian. I’m crying because this was intense. I’m crying because I’ve never had anyone in my corner, but today, it sort of felt like Alaric came to my defense, and it felt good. Correction, it still feels good.

“Fuck,” Alaric groans.

“I’m going to touch you, wild one. I want to examine any sort of damage he did before I contemplate whether I’ll be breaking his legs or hands. Can I do that?”

His voice is tender. Julian’s voice was sinister.

Julian grabbed my wrist without asking for permission.

Yet Alaric…he is asking if he can touch me?

I nod. I’m emotional, I’m a little shocked, and I give Alaric Hells another chance to touch me.

Alaric takes my right hand in his, and my whole body relaxes like he’s the missing piece to my jigsaw puzzle.

“Does it hurt?”

He brings my wrist to his lips, then he…he drops a small kiss on it. That’s enough to make my entire body light up and jump in excitement.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Lila. He’ll never fucking touch you again. Not while I—”

I don’t even let him finish that sentence.

Because if he keeps talking like that, if he keeps looking at me like I’m something worth protecting, I might believe it.

I might fall.

So, I wipe my tears quickly, as if erasing them could erase the softness in his eyes. I pretend I don’t see the guilt there, or the pain. I pretend it has nothing to do with me.

Because it’s easier that way.

Because the second I let my guard down, I’ll start hoping again, and hope is the cruelest lie of all.

Alaric saved me today, but he will never be mine, and I’ll never be his.

“What Julian did was nothing, Mr. Hells, so let's focus on the most important matter at the moment. Ethan told me to choose one of the women who’ll accompany you to the banquet next week.”

“Lila—” Alaric growls. His hands twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to touch me, to pull me closer. There’s something wild in his expression, something that tells me he’s feeling this—the bond, the magnetic force that keeps pushing us toward each other.

I don’t let him finish his sentence.

Not when his gaze burns through me, dark and intense, like he knows I’m trying to push him away.

“I’ve already chosen a woman for you from the list. In case you don’t like her, I’ll drop a file on your desk that has three other potential women you can choose from.”

My heart twists in my chest. I shouldn’t care who he picks. I shouldn’t feel the throb of jealousy choking my throat.

But as if he can read my mind, he utters one word that nearly makes my knees buckle.

“You.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. My breath catches in my throat.

I shouldn’t feel this way.

But damn it, I do.