Chapter 233 Chapter 233

Chapter 233 Chapter 233
Violet
My throat tightened painfully because he did not sound arrogant. He sounded frightened by the realization himself.
He took another step closer, close enough that I could smell the faint traces of the expensive cologne clinging to him beneath the metallic scent of blood.
My eyes flicked involuntarily toward his injured hand.
The skin across his knuckles was split open badly now, crimson dripping steadily down his fingers and onto the polished floor.
“Elijah, your hand…”
“I don’t care.”
But he still didn’t look away from me. Not even once.
It was like the pain no longer mattered compared to whatever war was unfolding inside his chest.
His gaze moved over my face desperately, almost greedily, as though he had spent too long deprived of me and now could not stop himself from looking.
“Has he touched you? Kissed you?”
The sentence came out uneven and I swallowed hard.
“That’s none of your concern.”
His jaw flexed violently.
For one second, I thought he would explode again.
Instead, he nodded slowly to himself like a man trying and failing to digest poison.
“Did you kiss him back?”
The question nearly undid me.
Not because of the words themselves, but because of the way he asked them.
I forced my chin upward and said just one word in response.
“Yes.”
The lie hit him instantly.
Elijah shut his eyes briefly and something agonized twisted across his face before he turned away from me again, pacing toward the desk with uneven steps.
His hand came down against the wood sharply, fingers spreading against the surface while he lowered his head.
For several seconds, he said absolutely nothing.
The silence in the room became unbearable.
Then he laughed once under his breath again, but this time the sound was jagged enough to make my stomach twist.
“Interesting.”
I frowned slightly.
“What?”
He looked up slowly, his eyes darker now.
“Because your body reacts to me exactly the same way it always did.”
Heat flooded my face instantly.
“El..”
“You stop breathing when I get too close.” His voice had lowered again into that deep devastating tone that always seemed to slide beneath my skin instead of merely reaching my ears. “Your pulse jumps when I touch you. Your pupils dilate every single time I look at your mouth.”
I hated that he noticed those things and that he remembered them as well.
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
He pushed away from the desk and started walking toward me again with slow measured steps.
Every instinct screamed at me to retreat but I held my ground.
“You know what the cruelest part is?” he asked quietly. “Even after everything you think I did to you, even after hating me this much, your body still reaches for me before your mind can stop it.”
“That’s not true.” My voice sounded hollow to my own ears.
“Then look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing right now. Tell me you would be okay if you never saw me in your life again”
I opened my mouth immediately but no words came out because he was too close again and his voice had taken on that rough, husky tone that would instantly make my knees go weak.
Despite the anger still burning violently inside me, my body remembered him far too well.
Elijah noticed my silence instantly and I saw the exact moment hope surged back into his expression despite himself.
“You see?” he whispered, his injured hand lifted slowly toward my face before stopping midway, like he remembered too late that I no longer welcomed his touch.
The hesitation hurt more than if he had touched me.
Something flickered across his face again before he let the hand fall uselessly back to his side.
“You still leaned into me despite asking me to not touch you,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Do you know that?”
My chest tightened painfully.
“You always acted annoyed first,” he continued, eyes fixed on me with unbearable intensity, “but then two minutes later you would somehow end up pressed against my side anyway, your hands on my back, nails digging into my flesh when I would devour you and you still wanted more.”
“Stop.”
“You used to scream my name until you couldn’t and then fall asleep on my chest while pretending you weren’t tired.”
“Stop it.”
“And every time I kissed you,” he said softly, his voice turning rougher, “you made this tiny sound in your throat first like you were trying not to enjoy it too much.”
“Enough!”
My voice cracked sharply through the room.
Elijah finally fell silent.
I was breathing too fast now, too unevenly because he was dragging every buried memory back to the surface one by one until I felt like I was drowning in them.
“You don’t get to do this,” I whispered furiously. “You don’t get to stand there acting like we were some tragic love story after what you did.”
The hope vanished from his face instantly and only exhaustion remained.
“You think I don’t know that?” he asked quietly and something about the sheer weariness in his voice made my anger falter for half a second.
Elijah looked absolutely crushed…exactly like I had wanted him to.
But the feeling of satisfaction didn’t swell inside my heart.
“You think I don’t replay that day in my head every single night?” he continued. “You think I don’t remember your face when Nicole opened her mouth?”
His throat moved harshly.
“I would cut my own heart out if it changed what happened. But the thought of somebody else touching you that's not me is driving me insane.” His mouth twisted bitterly. 
“I actually tried to convince myself I could survive it if you were happy, that seeing you everyday in the office would be enough.”
His eyes met mine fully again.
“But that was a lie, of course.”
“Elijah…” I whispered warningly.
His eyes lifted back to mine slowly.
“You still want me. Say you do! Please!!”
The quiet certainty in his voice made anger flare violently through me again.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“No,” he replied hoarsely, taking one final step closer until barely inches separated us, “I’m desperate.”
And somehow that was far more dangerous.
The words wrapped themselves around my throat like smoke.
Not because of what he said but because Elijah looked like he meant it.
There was nothing polished about him anymore. Nothing composed. The terrifyingly elegant man who could reduce entire rooms into silence with a single glance looked wrecked in front of me, breathing unevenly, blood sliding down his hand, eyes darkened with something dangerously close to grief.
And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying to hide it.
My heartbeat stumbled painfully against my ribs.
“You don’t get to be desperate now,” I whispered.
His gaze sharpened immediately. “Why not?”
“Because you already made your choice and now I want you to let me make mine.”