Chapter 8
(Ethan's POV)
(A glimpse from Chapter 7)
We reached the car. My driver held the door open.
But I stopped her before she entered.
"One more thing," I said, stepping closer.
She looked up, confused. Her lips parted.
I leaned down, not kissing her, not touching her, just close enough that she felt my breath. "You will tell me exactly what Jonah said."
She swallowed. "Yes… Mr. Cole."
"And when we get home," I murmured, "you will not hide anything from me again."
Her breath shivered. "…Okay."
I stepped back. "Good girl."
Her cheeks turned scarlet.
I opened the car door for her. As she got in, I made a silent promise: Tonight, Jonah would learn fear. And she would understand she was no longer alone. Not anymore. Not ever again.
---
By the time we arrived at my house, the night had thickened into shadows that clung to every corner. Guards were stationed at every door, cameras silently scanning. Lena noticed them, eyes wide, but did not voice a question. She trusted me, and that was all I needed.
Inside, I led her to my bedroom. My hand brushed hers as I guided her, commanding yet careful. Her pulse was rapid, and the faint tremor in her fingers told me she was nervous. Perfect. Vulnerable. Mine.
I let her stand before me for a moment. "Look at me," I ordered. She obeyed, eyes wide, flushed.
I leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes…" she whispered.
Good. That was all I needed.
I started slow. Soft touches first, brushing her arms, shoulders, hips, teasing her, letting her shiver under my gaze. Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly, her breath catching. I could see her anticipation, her nervous excitement. Perfect. She was mine tonight, completely.
I kissed her neck lightly, just the edge of my lips, and she gasped softly. Her fingers tangled in my shirt, holding on, seeking contact. I whispered, low and commanding, "Relax. Feel me. Let me guide you."
She nodded, trembling. I pressed a hand to her waist, pulling her closer, letting her feel the weight of me. Every shiver, every breathless intake, sent a fire racing through me. Her body responded to mine, soft, warm, willing, yet fragile, and I relished the control, the power, the need that surged in me.
I traced her collarbone, her arms, teasingly circling her curves, careful to draw out every sound, every shiver, every soft moan that escaped her lips. She whimpered, breath shaky, and I murmured against her skin, low and intimate, "You're mine. Every inch of you belongs to me tonight."
Her lips parted, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. "…Yes… Mr. Cole," she whispered.
I guided her to the bed slowly, deliberately, savoring every second. My hands roamed over her body, teasing, firm, commanding. I pressed against her, letting her feel the strength, the possessiveness, the dominance that she craved, though she would never admit it. She gasped, soft moans slipping past trembling lips.
I whispered in her ear, husky, low: "Do you feel how much I want you? How much I need you?"
"Yes… oh… Mr. Cole…" she shivered.
I smirked against her skin, pulling back just slightly, letting her anticipation build. Her hands wandered over me, tentative but daring, and I responded in kind, guiding, teasing, showing her that she was mine, completely, utterly.
We moved together, slow, intoxicating, savoring the tension, every touch, every sigh, every shiver. I whispered commands, low groans, encouragements that drew tiny moans from her. She trembled, yielding to me, yet desperate, craving, responding.
Her breath became ragged, fingers clutching sheets, clinging to me as I pressed her to me, holding her tight, claiming her warmth. "You are mine," I growled. "And tonight, I will make sure you feel it, every part of you, every inch."
She gasped, a soft, needy sound, and I pressed closer, teasing, demanding, protective, commanding. Her lips found mine, soft yet hungry, and I deepened the kiss, letting her feel my dominance, my obsession, my desire.
Hours passed in whispers, shivers, low moans, intimate touches. She melted under my hands, responded to every command, and I took her fully, not just physically, but emotionally, possessively. Every inch of her trust, every tremble, every gasp was mine to savor.
Finally, we collapsed together, breathless, flushed, tangled in sheets and heat. I watched her sleep for a moment, fragile, beautiful, vulnerable, and hated myself for the ache of wanting her so much, for the obsessive protectiveness that churned inside me, for the desire I could not hide.
---
The next morning, at the office, reality demanded control.
"Everyone! Gather here!" I bellowed across the office floor. Staff froze, heads turning in surprise.
The entire project group came together, tension thick in the air.
"The Valente project is a disaster!" I shouted. "Incomplete, sloppy, unprofessional work! And you...." I pointed directly at Lena, "you were supposed to lead this group! How dare you submit this level of work?!"
Her lips parted, voice caught in her throat. Staff exchanged nervous glances.
"You all should be ashamed!" I roared. "Do you think I tolerate mediocrity? Cole Industries survives on mediocrity?"
Then I turned my full wrath on her. "And Lena!" I bellowed, voice slicing across the office. "You are the leader! You were supposed to set the standard, guide them, show them how it's done! Do you even understand responsibility?!"
She trembled, hands gripping her notebook. Staff whispered quietly:
"She's crying already…"
"Poor girl, he's really tearing into her…"
"I… I'll do better…" she whispered, voice cracking.
"Better is not enough! I expect excellence, not excuses, not failures!" I snapped, chest tight, fury mingled with desire I hated to feel.
She fled, tears streaming. Staff exchanged murmurs:
"Did he really just yell like that?"
"She's the leader… and he destroyed her in front of everyone…"
---
Lena went home without my knowledge.
By mid-morning, my assistant reported: "Sir… Miss Hart hasn't returned. Staff are worried."
I clenched my fists. Obsession and guilt twisted in my chest. I sent my men immediately, but they could not reach her. Her house was protected, police presence, complaint filed, phone off.
I drove to her street, chest tight. I didn't step out. Scanning the house from my car, I saw police lights, guards. She was safe. Alive.
Satisfied, I leaned back, yet desire, obsession, and guilt churned inside me. Jonah's threat remained. My need to protect her, claim her, dominate her world burned hotter than ever.
I hated myself for smiling. And yet… I could not stop.