Page 27 of Velvet Sin (Elite Men of Los Angeles #5)

ELEANOR

“H i, it’s Chloe again. Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, and I know it’s none of my business, but everybody’s worried about you and hoping you’re okay. It doesn’t even need to be about work. Just… you know. Let me know you’re all right.”

No. I was not all right. I was broken, betrayed, and it was all my fault in the end. I walked into this time with eyes wide open.

I set the phone down on my coffee table after listening to Chloe’s voicemail, and for maybe the millionth time in the past three days, there were tears in my eyes that I tried to blink away.

It was almost too much to believe. Why did anybody care about me?

I had barely worked there for six weeks, right?

I tried to think back, to put together a timeline, but every time I thought about who I was when I first stepped foot in Dante’s office, the emotion was too much to handle.

I would run away from it like I ran from Dante that night—embarrassed, humiliated, questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.

Instead of leaving the phone where it was, my nails tapped the screen.

Would it look weird if I sent Casey a text to figure out if she heard something?

Maybe I should reach out to the whole group just to say hi, to check in.

Would it look like I was trying to do damage control?

Would I look suspicious? I didn’t know for sure whether Cameron would say something to them or anybody.

It would implicate him, too, after all. There was no way in hell he’d want anyone finding out he was at a club like that, but then he could always pretend he heard the news from someone else.

His ex-wife was having sex in public.

Fine, so I was discovering parts of myself I didn’t know existed.

Did that mean I had to go to a club and ride Dante like my life depended on it, with all those people around?

There could’ve been literally anyone in that club.

Safety was an illusion. I was taking a risk, pure and simple, and it had come back to bite me in the ass.

Or had it? Not knowing for sure whether Cameron told everyone was starting to eat me alive.

That was the worst torture. Every time the phone rang, I was sure it would be one of the girls or that somehow, Mom had gotten word from one of her friends in the old neighborhood.

I couldn’t imagine how, but then I couldn’t have imagined Cameron showing up when he had.

Hell, a few months ago, I couldn’t have imagined having sex in public either. Anything was possible.

I now had fourteen missed calls from Dante.

I didn’t feel like counting all the texts he had sent.

The only one I responded to was the one asking whether I had gotten home safely in my cab, and I’d responded with the word yes .

That was all I could bring myself to say.

Eventually, I would find the strength to demand answers.

Not that it mattered, his rationale. He could talk himself into anything he wanted to do.

Besides, what would it change? The damage was done. I was humiliated, waiting for the judgment I knew was coming. It was getting to the point where I wished Cameron would get it over with already. Tell the world what a slut I had become. It had to be easier than living in limbo, always on edge.

My phone buzzed, and I jumped, my heart taking off in a sickening rhythm that made my hands shake. Dante. Like somehow, he felt me thinking about him.

Dante: Checking in. Starting to wonder if you really are OK. At least tell me something only you would know. Just so I’m sure. Otherwise, I’m coming over.

Oh, terrific. Like I needed that. I searched my memory, trying to come up with a word that would keep him where he was. Knowing him, that was his office, where he would be settling in for the night by now.

A sudden pounding on the front door made me drop the phone before I could come up with anything.

It skittered across the cheap, fake wood vinyl, and for some reason, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. “You sent that text from down the hall, didn’t you?” I demanded, flipping the deadbolt and opening the door, ready to tear Dante’s throat out for manipulating me yet again.

Which was why the sight of my ex-husband made me fall back a step and clutch my chest in shock.

“Cameron,” I whispered. It couldn’t be real, but there he was, standing with his feet planted at shoulder width and his fists jammed into his slacks.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as ice spread through my veins. This couldn’t be good.

“Is that any way to greet me?” he countered.

He ran his left hand through his golden hair, and I noticed the lack of a ring.

He swore the day we left the courthouse that he would never take his ring off since he was sure we would be together again.

That pledge didn’t last too long, did it? Like so many others.

“Why are you here?” I demanded. The doorknob felt slick under my sweaty palm, but I only gripped it harder. He was not going to intimidate me on my home turf. “How did you even know where to find me?” Did I sound scared? I did, and I hated him for that. For the power he still held over me.

“Come on, Ellie…” He scoffed. “You know I know people who know where to look. It’s not like you went under FBI protection or something.”

My cheeks went hot, and I wished they wouldn’t. His cruel, dismissive tone did exactly what it always had. I started to shrink under the weight of it, to draw inward, to question everything. Right down to my intelligence.

Don’t let him. Grow a fucking backbone .

Of all times for me to hear Dante in my head, but it worked, shaking me out of my stupor.

My shoulders rolled back, and I narrowed my eyes.

“Clearly, you didn’t spend your free time brushing up on your manners, or you wouldn’t show up here unannounced.

I have nothing to say to you,” I concluded.

“You sure about that?” His lip curled into a sneer then he looked me up and down in a way that made me feel undressed, completely exposed, even though I was fully clothed. I resisted the impulse to cover myself.

“I am absolutely positive.”

That was when he did it. How did I never see him for who he was before? I couldn’t count the number of times he had barged his way into a room, brushing past me like I was nothing. He wasn’t physical about it. There was no violence, but it was a violation.

“Get out of here!” I scrambled to put myself in front of him before he could reach the sofa. It took putting my hands on his chest to stop him. “I swear to God, Cameron, don’t make me call the police. You don’t belong here.”

“Look at you.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “All high and mighty all of a sudden. Like I didn’t see what you were doing in front of all those people.”

Don’t let him do this. He doesn’t have the right.

I knew that was true, but it didn’t help.

My heart was beating a million miles a minute, and the way he was looking at me with those clear, green eyes was enough to make me doubt everything.

Every choice, right down to our divorce.

I couldn’t trust myself. I always made bad choices, didn’t I? He always said so.

His mouth twisted in a smirk. “Exactly,” he concluded with a smirk.

That word. The coldness in it. His casual dismissiveness. As usual, he was right. He always had to be right.

I shoved as hard as I could, which meant he only stumbled back half a step.

It was his mouth falling open that gave me strength.

“Last time I checked, Cameron, we were in the same club that night. Last time I checked, we are divorced, and we’re never getting back together.

You have no claim over me anymore.” Just saying the words made me feel taller, stronger.

“You can’t stand it, can you? Just like you can’t stand the sight of me being pleasured by somebody in a way you could never, ever hope to in a million years. ”

Something ugly flashed across his face. Scary. I went too far . The thought raced across my mind in time with the step he took toward me. “What did you just say, you stupid slut?” he whispered.

My reflexes were too slow. He had never done anything like it, so the last thing I expected was the way he lunged with a wild light blazing behind his eyes and a flush staining his tanned face. I stumbled backward, hitting the coffee table with the backs of my legs and falling onto the couch.

I squeezed my eyes shut, throwing an arm up over my face.

Before he could lay a hand on me, a wild animal burst into the room, grunting and snorting as it hurled itself against Cameron and knocked him into the far wall.

Trembling, I lowered my arm in time to see Dante haul Cameron to his feet from the ruins of my cheap dresser.

“Come on, motherfucker.” He snarled, gripping Cameron’s shirt collar in one fist and cocking back the other.

“You wanna dance? Let’s fucking dance, prick. ”

The sound of fist meeting jaw was horrifying and exhilarating. Cameron’s head snapped to the side, but he recovered quickly, shoving Dante away. “My lawyer will love that,” he panted out as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Will he? Might as well give them more to love.” Dante charged headfirst, ramming Cameron’s sternum before delivering an uppercut that turned his legs to jelly. He dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for air, and a snarling Dante pulled back his right leg like he was about to kick.

“Don’t!” I barked from the sofa, no matter how much I would’ve loved to see him do it. “It’s not worth it.”

When Dante turned to me, his teeth bared, his chest heaving, I wished I hadn't said anything. It was like getting in the middle of two rabid animals.

Something cleared behind his eyes. His stance loosened along with his hands. “Fine then,” he grunted out, taking Cameron by his shirt collar and his waistband and practically dragging him from the apartment. Not that it took long, as small as the space was.

I could barely take a breath, and I wasn’t the one who’d been fighting.

Somehow, my shaking legs carried me to the open doorway so I could stare down at the pathetic heap that was my ex-husband.

“Don’t you ever show up here again,” I warned.

“Next time, I’m calling the cops. And if you even think about dragging my name through the mud, remember that goes both ways, you bastard. ”

Nothing had ever been as satisfying as slamming the door and flipping the lock.

At least, nothing up to that moment because the next thing I knew, Dante had me in his arms, and it didn’t occur to me to break free.

“I told myself not to come, but I was already on the way, and I couldn’t take another minute worrying about you,” he explained while his hands ran over my body like he was checking to be sure I was in one piece. “Did he hurt you?”

“He didn’t get the chance.” But for the first time in years, I understood that he might have. Very easily. That was when the shaking started—once realization replaced adrenaline in my system. “Oh God, he wanted to hurt me.”

“He won’t now. Never.” Holding my face in his hands, Dante stared deep into my eyes, and I let him. Just like I let myself sink into his touch, let him back me up against the door. “He is never going to hurt you. I am so sorry there was ever a question of that.”

“You hurt me, too,” I pointed out. I had to. I couldn’t betray myself.

His face contorted in pain. “I know. I was such an asshole. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I wasn’t thinking. It’s not going to happen again, ever. Please, don’t make me spend every day for the rest of my life worrying whether you’re all right. Let me be with you so I know for sure.”

Touching his forehead to mine, he whispered, “Don’t ask me to forget about us.”

I was too overwhelmed to speak. It was a good thing he kissed me when he did. I could let that do the talking for me, and I did, winding my arms around his neck and pulling him close, kissing him hard until I couldn’t breathe.

He pulled down my pajama shorts and panties, fumbling with his fly and a condom while we kissed, moaning into each other’s mouths, a sound that deepened as he drove himself inside me.

“Oh God…” I whispered, caught up in the moment, in him, in the way he fought for me.

He fought with the same fierceness he now used to drive me against the door in a quick rhythm that left me panting, clawing at him under his suit jacket.

It all happened so fast, and it couldn’t have felt more right.

Letting him take me after he claimed me.

Begging him to touch me with the hands he had just used to defend me.

“Fuck me,” I moaned out, sliding up and down the door with every deep stroke.

“Harder, please, harder.” He gave me what I wanted, and I closed my eyes, crying out my approval while the door rattled in time with his strokes.

I put everything into it—all the hurt from the past three days, the fear before Dante arrived, my relief. He had saved me.

I gave it all to him, just like he gave everything to me, fucking me until I ached. It still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Of him, of this. And I thought I could live without it? Who was I kidding?

“Give it to me,” he demanded, almost punishing me. “Come for me. Only for me.”

I couldn’t help it if I tried, not that I wanted to. It was coming on fast, overwhelming me, consuming me when the wave broke and left me shuttering in his arms. My cries were caught in his mouth and mingled with his as he followed close behind.

It was possible I would never want anyone the way I wanted him. Ever. “I guess I can thank you for showing up unannounced this time,” I decided as I caught my breath, and he laughed against my neck.

“Even if you didn’t thank me, it would’ve been worth it to hit that fucker.” There was a different truth in his eyes when he looked into mine, and it left me breathless all over again when I saw the warmth they held. “I’m just glad I was here,” he concluded.

So was I.

For so many reasons.