Chapter 61 Fragile Promises
Elena: POV
I stared at Julian kneeling beside the hospital bed, his gray eyes raw with something I'd never seen before. Desperation. Maybe even fear.
"Can we try? Please. Let me take care of you. Both of you. Give me a chance to do this right."
The words hung in the sterile air between us, and I felt something inside me crack—not breaking, but shifting. Like ice beginning to thaw.
Should I give him a chance?
My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, pressing against the slight curve hidden beneath the thin hospital gown. Twelve weeks. Almost three months of carrying this secret, of being terrified he'd find out and force me to—
The baby deserves a father, I thought, my chest tightening. A real father who's there, not just someone I run from. Kids who grow up with both parents are healthier, happier. Right?
I looked at Julian's face—the tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped the bed rail like he was holding onto something precious. For once, he looked... lost. Uncertain.
Like he actually cares.
"I..." My voice came out hoarse. "I don't know, Julian."
"What don't you know?" He moved closer, careful not to crowd me. "Tell me. Whatever you need—whatever it takes—I'll do it."
Will you?
The question tasted bitter on my tongue.
"Can you break it off with Victoria?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Can you actually, finally, cut ties with her? No more flying to Paris. No more emergency calls. No more choosing her over me?"
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Yes."
"And can you..." I swallowed hard, forcing myself to continue. "Can you treat me like an actual person? Not a possession. Not something you order around. Not a—a body you use when you're bored."
His eyes darkened at that, something flickering in their depths.
"I need you to talk to me," I continued, my voice shaking now. "Like I'm your equal. Your partner. Not your fucking assistant you can just command around whenever you feel like it."
Silence stretched between us. Julian's hand moved to cover mine on the bed, his fingers threading through mine with surprising gentleness.
Then he smiled.
Not the cold, mocking smile I was used to. Something darker. More knowing.
"In bed," he said, his voice dropping to that rough, intimate register that always made my pulse spike, "I remember you being pretty into the whole 'forced' thing."
Heat flooded my face. "What?"
"You know exactly what I mean." His thumb traced circles on my palm, the touch deliberate. "When I pin your wrists down. When I tell you exactly what to do. When I make you beg." His smile widened slightly. "You love it."
"Julian!" I tried to pull my hand away, mortified. "I'm being serious—"
"So am I." Before I could react, he moved—graceful and predatory—sliding onto the bed beside me. His hands found my waist, lifting me effortlessly until I was sitting in his lap.
"Julian, what are you—" My protest cut off as I felt the hard length of him pressing against me through his damp pants.
Shit. He's already hard.
His hands settled on my hips, holding me firmly in place. One hand slid up my spine, fingers finding the ties of my hospital gown.
"Stop it." I pushed at his chest, my face burning. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you—"
"This is serious." His mouth found my neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin below my ear. "This is about our happiness, isn't it? About making this work?"
"That's not—" I gasped as his teeth grazed my earlobe, sending sparks down my spine. "That's not what I meant—"
"Everything you said," he murmured against my skin, his hand sliding lower, cupping my ass through the thin fabric. "I agree to all of it. I'll cut Victoria off. I'll treat you better. I'll talk to you like an equal." His fingers squeezed possessively. "But Elena..."
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his gray gaze intense and burning.
"I haven't touched you in days. Haven't felt you. And I've been going fucking crazy."
My breath caught. His hand moved to my face, thumb brushing my lower lip.
"I missed you," he said quietly, and there was something raw in his voice. Something that sounded almost... real.
Don't believe him. Don't let him do this to you again.
But my traitorous body was already responding. Already heating up, melting into him despite everything my brain was screaming.
"You're such an asshole," I whispered, my hands still pressed against his chest—though whether to push him away or pull him closer, I couldn't tell anymore.
"I know." His mouth curved against my skin. "But I'm your asshole."
Then his hand was sliding up my thigh, pushing the hospital gown higher. His fingers found the edge of my panties—
I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Julian, I just almost drowned. I'm in a hospital bed. This is—"
"I know." His forehead pressed against mine, his breathing ragged. "That's why I'm only going to touch you. Just a little. Just enough to remember you're real. That you're here. That I didn't lose you."
The vulnerability in his voice made my chest ache.
"You're hurt," he continued softly, his hand moving to cup my face instead. "I'm not going to do anything that might hurt you more. I just..." He paused, searching for words. "I just need to feel you. Need to know you're okay."
His thumb traced my jaw, his eyes scanning my face like he was memorizing every detail. Then something shifted in his expression.
"Wait." His brow furrowed. "The other night. In the car. You said you weren't feeling well. That's why we didn't—"
He stopped abruptly. Understanding dawned across his features.
"The baby," he said quietly. "You were already feeling the symptoms then, weren't you?"
I bit my lip, not meeting his eyes.
"Fuck." He let out a harsh breath. "You were dealing with morning sickness, probably exhausted, and I just..." His jaw clenched. "I'm such a fucking idiot."
"Yeah," I said flatly. "You are."
His hands moved to my hips, but gentler now. More careful. "I'm sorry. For that night. For pushing you when you weren't feeling well."
The apology sounded foreign coming from his mouth. Julian Sterling didn't apologize. Not to me. Not about anything.
"Julian—" I started, but he was already shifting, his mouth finding my collarbone, kissing a path down my throat.
"Let me make it up to you," he murmured against my skin. "Let me take care of you properly this time."
His hands slid up my sides, pushing the hospital gown higher. When his fingers brushed the underside of my breast, I jerked slightly.
"Sensitive?" His voice was rough with desire.
"They're..." I trailed off, embarrassed. "They've been more sensitive lately."
Because of the pregnancy. Because your child is making my body change.
Understanding flickered in his eyes. "I'll be gentle."
But even as he said it, even as his touch remained careful and his kisses stayed soft, I felt the familiar doubt creeping back in.
This is just physical. Just his body wanting mine. Nothing's really changed.
I pushed at his shoulders again, more firmly this time. "Stop."
He froze immediately, his eyes snapping to mine. "Elena—"
"I need you to promise me something." My voice shook. "Before this goes any further. Before I let myself believe you've changed."
"Anything." The word came out immediate. Desperate.
"Promise me you'll try to trust me." I cupped his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Not just about the baby. About everything. Stop assuming the worst. Stop believing her over me. Just... try."