Chapter 225 Chapter 225

Chapter 225 Chapter 225
Violet

He pulled another bottle from somewhere and handed it to me.

“Drink. Calm down. Then tell me what’s going on.”

When I realized he wasn’t going anywhere I took the bottle from him, forcing myself to stop behaving erratically.

I was the goddamn Director of Design. I was supposed to be calm and composed, not screaming like a lunatic.

Thankfully, nobody except Elijah saw my meltdown. 

My gaze flicked to his torn shirt that he quickly buttoned over and covered up with his coat.

I raised a shaking hand to wipe at my face after finishing another bottle of water.

"Here." Elijah pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to me.

I hesitated before taking it and dabbed at my face, wiping away the sweat and probably most of my ruined makeup along with it.

I wondered what a disaster I must look to him with that messed up hair and mascara running down my eyes.

What would the security guards think of me? What would Elijah think of me after I clung to him and clawed at him?

I felt embarrassed and couldn’t even look him in the eye.

"You missed a spot," Elijah said softly.

I lowered the handkerchief and looked at him questioningly.

He pointed to his own chin. "Just there."

I raised the cloth again, swiping at where he'd indicated. 

But he gently shook his head. "Other side."

I wiped at the other side of my chin.

"Still...here, let me." He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering in the air between us like he was asking permission.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

His fingers took the handkerchief from me, his touch gentle as he brought it to my face. He wiped at my chin with a feather-light touch.

Then he moved up slightly, dabbing at my cheek where I must have missed. His thumb brushed against my skin, and the contact sent electricity racing through me.

I became hyperaware of everything. The warmth of his hand. The scent of his cologne. The way his eyes had darkened, pupils dilated. The barely perceptible increase in his breathing.

His thumb traced along my jawline, the handkerchief apparently forgotten. His gaze dropped to my lips, and stayed there for a heartbeat too long.

He leaned in slightly. Just a fraction of an inch, barely noticeable, but enough that I could feel the shift in distance.

My breath caught. My heart stuttered. For one impossible moment, I thought he might kiss me. And I wanted him to. 

“What did you call me?” I asked and his gaze reluctantly traveled back to my eyes.

“Huh?” He asked.

“In the elevator. Did you say something?” I repeated, staring in his eyes.

I saw him swallow a lump in his throat before running a hand through his hair and stepping back.

“J-just that you were fine” He said, not meeting my eye.

Why did I think he said much more? Had I imagined it? Had my overimaginative mind made me hear things he didn’t say?

“Yeah” He said as he spent an awfully long time folding his handkerchief and pocketing it.

“I am sorry,” I said, “That was highly inappropriate of me.”

He made a choked sound, and cleared his throat, the sound rough and awkward. His hand came up to run through his hair again, disheveling it in a way that would probably look artfully messy on anyone else but just looked stressed on him.

"What was that?" he asked finally, his voice carefully controlled. "In the elevator. You said something about a woman coming after you. What did you see?"

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling cold. How could I explain what I'd seen? The witch crawling out of the mirror-door? The visions that made no logical sense?

"I don't know," I said, which was both true and completely inadequate. "I just... I saw something. Someone. It felt real but it couldn't have been."

"You mentioned a woman. What did she look like?"

"I..." I fumbled for words that wouldn't make me sound completely insane. "Dark hair. Pale skin. She was in the mirror, or the door looked like a mirror, and she was trying to get out."

Elijah was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"You think I'm crazy," I said flatly.

"No." His response was immediate and firm. "I don't think that at all."

"But what I'm describing is impossible. People don't crawl out of mirrors. Elevator doors don't turn into portals to other places. It's not rational."

"Violet." He turned to face me fully, his expression intense. "If you told me the sky was green, I'd believe you."

The simple declaration made my chest ache painfully, not because of the words themselves, but because of the absolute conviction behind them.

"You'd believe me?" I repeated slowly, testing the words.

"Without question. Without hesitation." His eyes held mine, unwavering. "If you say you saw something, then you saw something. I trust your perception more than I trust my own. I just dont trust you, I respect you, admire you and I love…"

He stopped as I looked up at him and he suddenly stopped.

Something in my chest loosened at those words. The fear of being dismissed, of being told I was imagining things or losing my mind, eased slightly. But more than that, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to complete that line or not.

But then Elijah seemed to realize what he'd said. His expression shifted, becoming more guarded. He straightened, putting more distance between us.

"I apologize," he said stiffly. "That line was inappropriate. I shouldn't have said anything when you are already disturbed"

"It's fine," I interrupted, a small part of me wanting to hear him take it back.

"It's not fine." He stood abruptly, brushing invisible dust from his pants. "I'm your employer. There are boundaries I need to maintain. Boundaries I've already crossed too many times."

He took a few steps away, his back to me, his shoulders tense.

"But as your employer," he continued, his voice taking on a more formal tone, "I can offer you resources. If you're unwell, if you need medical attention or time off or anything else, it's yours. No questions asked."

"I'm not unwell," I said quietly.

"Violet, you just had what looked like a panic attack in an elevator. You were screaming and shaking and seeing things that weren't there. That's not nothing."

The clinical description of what had happened made me flinch, and sound like a mental break rather than a supernatural vision.

"I can arrange for the best doctors," Elijah pressed. "Therapists, specialists, whatever you need. Or if you want time off to rest, to recover, that's absolutely fine. Your position will be waiting for you when you're ready to return."

Something cruel rose up in me. Something hurt and angry and desperate to push back when he had moments ago announced that he trusted me.

"Why do you care?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "You got what you wanted. You forced me to work here, to be near you every day. Mission accomplished. So why do you care if I'm unwell?"