Chapter 16 MORNING AFTER
Eli's POV
I woke up tired. Not the normal kind of tired; not the slept-too-late kind, not the bad dream kind.
No.
This was the kind of exhaustion that lived in my bones, that reminded me I’d been dragged, pinned, handled like I weighed nothing and had no say in the matter.
My body felt wrung out, like someone had used me as a stress toy.
And then it hit me all over again.
Julian.
His hands.
His voice.
His rules.
His everything.
God.
I dragged myself into the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth with mechanical movements, and avoided my own reflection because I knew I’d see the truth written all over my eyes:
I wasn’t dreaming.
I really was married to a psycho.
Legally. Contractually. Stupidly.
I am married to this man.
When I finally stepped out of the bedroom, the house was so quiet that it made my skin prickle.
The dining room lights were on.
And there he was.
Julian Thorne — billionaire, genius, psychopath — setting the table himself.
Silverware aligned like a military parade. Plates centered with ridiculous precision. Coffee steaming. Toast cut into perfect rectangles.
He didn’t look up at first.
And suddenly, I had no idea how to walk, how to breathe, how to exist around this man.
I felt small.
Like a bug someone might decide to step on just to see what sound it makes.
So stupid of me not to have asked how long this marriage would last before signing anything.
I’d signed away a debt.
And apparently also my life.
I sat down slowly, hands tucked in my lap like I was some nervous guest instead of… whatever I was supposed to be.
Has he actually bought me?
Did I really become property over debt?
Is this really my life now?
“Eli,” Julian said, interrupting the spiral I was halfway drowning in.
I froze.
He was studying me with that sharp, unreadable gaze that always made me feel like an X-ray.
“You’re quiet this morning,” he said.
“Very quiet. So quiet you didn’t even greet your husband.”
The word husband cracked through me like a hammer.
A reminder.
A reset.
A verdict.
I swallowed. My voice was small, embarrassingly so. “I… I just don’t know which words might get me punished.”
Julian stared at me; thankfully not annoyed. Not amused either; just still.
“‘Good morning’ wouldn’t get you punished,” he said softly, as if that should’ve been obvious.
I nodded, my throat tightening.
“Good morning,” I whispered.
I didn’t mean for my voice to come out that weak.
I didn’t mean for it to shake.
But it did.
And Julian’s eyes… something shifted in them. Something quiet and searching and too intense.
I blinked.
And blinked again.
And then—
My traitorous eyes burned.
No.
No, no, no, absolutely not.
I looked down, but it was too late. A tear slipped down before I could stop it. Then another. And once the dam cracked, the rest followed. Silent, messy, humiliating.
I was freaking crying in front of Julian.
Julian stood so abruptly the chair scraped.
He walked around the table and knelt in front of me.
Knelt.
As if I was royalty and he was apologizing for existing.
He rested a hand under my chin and tilted my face up. Another tear ran down and he wiped it with his thumb, slow and careful.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I froze.
I think my heart did too.
Julian Thorne does not apologize.
He does not bend.
He does not kneel.
He does not soften.
But he did all three.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby,” he murmured. “I lost my temper. I know I did. I’m sorry.”
Baby.
I should’ve hated that word.
Instead, it only made my throat close harder.
“I just…” My voice cracked. “I don’t understand how my life ended up like this. How I’m suddenly… careful with words. Careful with breathing. Like… like I’m always one mistake away from making you angry.”
Julian wiped more tears, sighing like something inside him cracked too.
He stood, scooped me up in one smooth motion — effortless, practiced — and carried me like I weighed nothing. I didn’t fight him. My arms wrapped around his neck without permission from my brain.
He took me to the living room, sat on the couch, and settled me on his lap as if that was where I belonged.
His hand moved slowly up and down my back.
“Breathe,” he whispered against my shoulder. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The tears kept coming… exhaustion, confusion, fear, embarrassment, all of it blurring together until I felt ridiculous for crying on a billionaire psycho’s designer suit.
He kept wiping my tears anyway.
After a few minutes he murmured, “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you something expensive — a car, maybe. A watch. Something gold. Or diamond. Something nice.”
I sniffed, and a laugh escaped me. “You suck at comforting.”
Julian huffed a quiet laugh. “Yes. I know. But I’m trying.”
“Trying badly,” I muttered into his collar.
He rested his forehead against mine.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he repeated softly. “But you weren’t listening to me. And I… have issues.”
That was the understatement of the century.
“I won’t do that again,” he added. “If you make me lose my head next time, I’ll just sedate you so you fall asleep.”
I jerked upright. “Sedation is bad too!”
“Well then what is right?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“I don’t know!” I threw my hands slightly. “Maybe—maybe make being married to you less of a horror for me? Because honestly, you’re actively turning me gay. I got aroused when you—when you… last night.” My voice turned into static. “And it feels kinda violating to think about.”
His lips twitched. “You don’t have to be gay, Eli. Just stay married to me.”
I stared. “Uhmm… that’s gay.”
“Well then,” he said smoothly, “be gay for me.”
My brain shut down.
He lifted his hand, brushing a fingertip slowly across my bottom lip.
I shivered like the world reset itself.
“Eli,” he whispered, his voice low, warm, dangerous in a completely different way. “Can I kiss you?”
My breath hitched.
He was asking.
Actually asking.
Waiting.
Patient.
Controlled for my sake, not his.
I don’t know what part of me answered; the scared part, the tired part, the lonely part, or the part that hated admitting how much I melted under him.
But I whispered,
“…Yes.”
And Julian kissed me the very second the word left my mouth.