Chapter 67 KILL FOR YOU
The study door slammed so hard the sound echoed through the house.
Anton walked out, furious. His talk with Julian didn't go so well.
His jaw was tight. His eyes were dark. The first three buttons of his shirt were open, like he had yanked them loose without caring. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was messy.
He walked straight to the indoor bar, grabbed a bottle of clear vodka, didn’t bother with a glass, and headed for the yard.
The evening air was cool. The grass was trimmed. The security lights were on.
That was when he saw Eli.
Eli was squatting, head down, picking at the skin near his ankle. Two of Julian’s men stood too close behind him.
Anton’s steps slowed.
The men noticed him first. They straightened, and as Anton walked closer, they took one step back.
Anton didn’t look at them. He looked at Eli; he squatted down in front of him.
“What’s going on?” Anton asked.
Eli looked up. His eyes were distant at first, then focused. “I’m not trying to escape,” he said quickly. “I just wanted some fresh air. I’m not sure why they are following me.”
Anton’s jaw twitched.
He stood up slowly.
“You’re dismissed,” he said without raising his voice.
The men hesitated but Anton's stern eyes made them leave.
He reached down and held Eli’s arm. “Stand up.”
Eli stood up, a little stiff.
Anton slid one arm under Eli’s knees and lifted him easily with one hand. With the other, he still held the vodka bottle.
“Anton—”
“Quiet,” Anton said softly.
He carried Eli to the patio.
The patio lights were warm. There were wide lounge chairs with soft cushions. A low glass table. Tall plants in black pots. The pool water reflected the sky. It was calm out here. Almost peaceful.
Anton set Eli down on one of the lounge chairs.
He sat opposite him and took a long drink straight from the bottle.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“How are you?” Anton asked.
Eli crossed his arms. “Quite alright.”
Anton stared at him… “How are you feeling?”
Eli looked away. “A little confused. Tired. A little angry even though I’m not allowed to be.”
Anton frowned. “Who said you’re not allowed to be angry?”
Eli shrugged.
Anton leaned forward. “I’d love for you to be angry. Be crazy even. Wake Julian up with a gun pointed to his head.”
Eli huffed a laugh. “With his reflex, he’d kill me before he knows it’s me holding the gun.”
Anton shrugged. “I’d kill him. We’d all be dead.”
Eli’s smile faded. He lowered his voice. “That’s not a good thing.”
Anton watched him carefully.
“Do you want to leave?” Anton asked.
Eli blinked. “I can’t.”
“Do you want to?”
Eli didn’t answer.
Anton took another swig of his drink.
“I can get you away from Julian,” he said quietly. “And me.”
Eli’s fingers tightened around the edge of the chair. He looked at the pool, not at Anton.
“I— I don’t even know,” he said. “I don’t want to go back to my father. And he will come for me if he finds out I’m no longer here.”
Anton’s expression changed.
“Why?” he asked softly. “You hate your father?”
Eli’s throat moved.
“No,” he said. “I don’t.” He swallowed. “I wish I do.”
Anton didn’t speak. He just looked at him.
Eli’s eyes were fixed on nothing. His fingers were picking at the skin near his thumb now.
“He hits me,” Eli said.
His voice was steady, but Anton could see the effort that steadiness was taking.
“He used to hit me with anything and everything. Belt. Shoe. His hand. Mop stick. Whatever was close. And my offense was mostly just existing and looking like my mother.”
His shoulders were tight. His breathing was shallow.
“He hates me,” Eli continued. “And I wish I could hate him back.”
His lips trembled slightly.
“But I also wish he would hold me and not hurt me.”
His eyes were glassy now, but he wasn’t crying.
“He… he—” His voice broke for a second. He looked down quickly, like he was ashamed of the sound.
“I don’t hate him,” he said again, softer. “But I also liked it when he was away.”
His hands were shaking.
“I lied to myself that he died when I was really young. Because I heavily wished those years— those nights, didn’t exist.”
He pressed his lips together hard.
Anton leaned forward slowly.
He reached out and brushed Eli’s hair out of his face.
His touch was gentle.
“I desperately want to take away your pain,” Anton said quietly.
Eli’s eyes closed at the touch. Just for a second.
“If you permit me,” Anton continued, his voice calm and cold at the same time, “I’ll kill him tonight. I’ll make him disappear like he did before. But this time he won’t ever come back.”
Eli leaned into Anton’s palm.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to get dirty for me.”
Anton’s thumb brushed over Eli’s temple.
“Besides,” Eli added weakly, “I’m safe here. And I’m learning to stay as invisible as possible to avoid Mrs. Thorne and Miss Lovia.”
Anton pulled his hand back.
“Invisible?” he repeated. “This is your house. Why stay invisible?”
Eli let out a tired breath.
“Because I don’t really belong here.”
Anton’s eyes darkened.
“And this is not my house,” Eli went on. “My marriage to Julian was signed on papers. There was no clause stating he’d give me anything. Nothing of his belongs to me.”
Anton stared at him for a long moment.
Then he tapped his lap.
“Come here.”
Eli hesitated.
Anton didn’t look away.
Eli stood up slowly and walked over.
He sat on Anton’s lap, straddling him, facing him. His knees pressed against Anton’s hips. His hands rested lightly on Anton’s shoulders.
Anton’s hands settled on Eli’s waist.
“You think you don’t belong here ‘cause papers didn't say the house belongs to you, but Julian stepped farther than the paper allows too. He crossed your boundary.” Anton said quietly.
Eli didn’t answer.
“You don't have to shrink yourself, he promised you his belongings when he touched you beyond what the paper says.”
Eli looked down. “He doesn't owe me anything, neither do you. I allowed the touch. There's nothing special about my body for it to be worth anything at all. I'm replaceable.”
Anton lifted Eli's chin gently so he had to look at him.
Eli’s eyes were red now.
Anton brushed his thumb under one of them.
“You think you’re replaceable,”
Eli swallowed. “Aren’t I?” he asked, barely audible.
Anton’s grip on his waist tightened.
“No. You're not.”
Eli looked at him, “I am.”
Anton drew in a breath, pushing down the possessiveness overwhelming him.
“Marry me.”
Eli blinked. “What?”
“Marry me,” Anton repeated.
Eli stared at him like he wasn’t sure he heard correctly.
“You’re drunk,” Eli said quietly.
Anton shook his head. “Not enough.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
Eli’s breathing got uneven again.
“You can’t just say that,” he whispered.
“I can.”
“You don’t mean it.”
Anton leaned closer. Their foreheads almost touched.
“I mean it more than I’ve meant anything.”
Eli’s hands were trembling on Anton’s shoulders.
“You don’t want me,” Eli said. “Not like that you— I'm already married to Julian.”
Anton’s jaw tightened.
“I love you,” he said simply.
Eli froze.