Chapter 64 64
Elliot's POV
I got back to the hotel with the taxi pulling up at the entrance. I paid fast and took the stairs instead of the elevator. The keycard opened the door, and the air-conditioning felt good against my skin, mixed with the smell of salt and sunscreen. Emma was there, just back from the beach, still in her bikini under a light dress, hair damp, skin glowing. She dropped the towel on the chair and looked at me with a smile, cheeks red from the sun.
"Where were you? I went to the beach alone, but it was nice. The water's perfect. You said you'd be right back, but you took forever and didn't answer my calls."
I closed the door, tossed the keys on the table. I didn't know how to say it without sounding off, but I had to get it out.
"Tonight we're having dinner with some people I know. At their place."
She spun around fast, eyes wide, excited.
"Really? Awesome! Who?"
I shrugged, pulling off my sweaty shirt.
"Andrew Ellis. He works for my mom's company. And his wife."
She clapped softly, like it was some fun plan.
"Perfect. I'll get to meet someone from here. Are they nice?"
I nodded, nothing more. She was already darting around, way too excited, opening the closet to pick clothes.
"I'm jumping in the shower quick. What time? What should I wear?"
"Eight. Something normal."
She disappeared into the bathroom, water started running. I stood there staring at the unmade bed and collapsed face-down, burying my face in the pillow. It smelled like her—like Emma, her lotion, the beach. But it didn't matter. I closed my eyes and only saw Mrs. Ellis. I was going to see her. Tonight. Sitting across from her, Andrew beside her, Emma next to me.
I couldn't believe it. After six months of pretending I was fine, of fucking Emma to try to erase her. I'd have her right there, belly big with the baby she was carrying.
The last time we'd been like this—at a dinner—she was sitting with her husband while I was with my mom. That night ended in sex. I took her to my room while Andrew talked to my mom downstairs.
Those encounters were always like that—wild. I couldn't control myself, I wanted her so much I lost my mind, and she'd go along with it, guide me, dominate me sometimes, moaning my name low so no one heard. We'd come out sweaty, satisfied, and she'd go back downstairs like nothing happened, smiling politely, being the perfect wife with the perfect husband.
I never... imagined those encounters would end forever. I knew it'd get harder, that I wouldn't give up, that I'd keep seducing her, pulling her into the dark side over and over—but not that they'd stop.
What I hated most was that she'd moved on with her life. Her marriage, Andrew, this baby on the way. While I just pretended to live—faking it with Emma, university, everything. She'd closed the door. I hadn't.
I got up slowly, went to the closet. Pulled out the blue shirt Emma said looked good on me, the dark pants. Laid them on the bed, still pressed. Stared at them a while. Emma came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and started doing her makeup in front of the mirror.
"You okay? You've been weird since you got back."
"Fine. Just tired."
She didn't push. Put on the dress she'd picked—light, summery, looked perfect on her. I showered quick, cold water to ease the tightness in my chest. Got dressed, looked in the mirror. Looked normal. Same as always. But inside I was burning.
I stepped out onto the tiny balcony while Emma finished getting ready. Sunset falling over the river—oranges and reds, water gleaming below, boats drifting slow. Lisbon was beautiful, objectively. But I didn't see any of it. I only saw Mrs. Ellis's face. Her eyes when she'd look at me in class—serious, but with that spark. Her mouth when she moaned against my neck. Her body now—changed, belly round with someone else's son.
Would I say something? Could I handle seeing her next to him—smiling, touching her belly, talking about the baby like it was normal? I felt like I'd try to hurt her—cut her with a word, a look. Silently tell her she was a hypocrite, that she'd used me and thrown me away. And that scared me, because it contradicted everything. I wanted to make her suffer, watch her break like I'd broken. And at the same time I wanted to protect her from the pain I felt—hold her, tell her I still loved her so much it hurt. Two opposite things eating me alive.
Either way, I didn't think she felt anything for me anymore.
Six months.
A baby on the way.
A new life here. I was the mistake she'd left behind. The student who got obsessed. The one who couldn't stop.
Emma came out to the balcony, took my hand.
"Let's go. Don't want to be late. Should we bring something?"
"I thought about wine, but I have a feeling they don't drink much. She's pregnant."
"Oh, that's sweet. Is it formal?"
"I don't think so."
"You know them well? Or just work people?"
"Just work people."
"I hope they're not too old—I get bored at dinners with older people we have nothing in common with."
"You were excited earlier."
"I thought... they'd be younger. But you said she's pregnant, right?"
"If you want, you can stay, Emma. You don't have to come," I said. And for a second I wished she would.
"No, let's go. I'm not leaving you alone."
We took the cab she'd called. I gave the driver the address Andrew had sent.
Emma asked questions about them and I said I didn't know them that well. And that's what I wanted—not to know them—so this would just be another dinner, not some dangerous crusade I had no idea how it'd end.
We arrived.
Emma squeezed my hand before ringing the bell.
No turning back. I took a deep breath and waited.
When the door opened, I guess my expression looked normal, but inside it was a complete explosion.
Could she be any more beautiful? Any more perfect?
That image—her new shape, the glow on her face, the shine in her eyes mixed with that fear when she saw me, the size of her belly, her breasts probably up two cup sizes, hips as firm as ever.
That dress couldn't look better on anyone else.
She was as stunning as the last time I saw her. And just as lethal to me.
Her hand was linked with her husband's as they both welcomed us.
I wanted to play it cool, distant, but I practically rushed to greet her—just to know if she still smelled the same, if her hair brushing my face still felt amazing, if my touch made her shiver... or disgusted her.
"Good to see you, Mrs. Ellis. You look great." I gave her a quick hug, a kiss on the cheek, my hand on her back—and that's when I felt her tremble, almost scared. She smiled at me... shyly, like the first time we met. "This is my girlfriend, Emma," I introduced, almost forgetting she was there—because all that mattered was being close to Mrs. Ellis, keeping my hand on her, having her near, fuck.
"Nice to meet you," Emma said, greeting them both.
As we moved inside, I hung back to watch her longer, my hand reaching for hers hidden—until Andrew offered to show us the house.
"Where's the bathroom?" I asked. She pointed it out while Andrew showed Emma around. I grabbed her hand to pull her close when we were alone, but she resisted—her eyes pleading. I couldn't stop. I hugged her again, slower this time, letting myself get closer, breathe her in, really feel her. "I hate you, Mrs. Ellis," I said—but my words had no strength, my voice didn't sound convincing.
"Is that why you came?"
"Hug me back, please." I could've dropped to my knees begging to feel her arms around me too, but I didn't have to—she did. It was awkward with her big belly, but we managed. "Why are you so beautiful? Why do you smell so good? Why do I love you this much?"
"Elliot..."
She started pulling away and I let her, but I leaned in and kissed her cheek—the heat spread through her whole body, and she smiled.
Fuck, she smiled.
"We might not get another moment alone, so I want us to meet. Tonight, in the middle of the night—I'll come to your house or you'll come out. But we'll meet."
"No, no—no! Of course not."
"You're in no position to say no."
"Did you come here to threaten me?" Her eyes started filling with tears and I regretted being so harsh.
"I came to see you—and that's what you'll do."
"I can't go out at night—Andrew would know."
"Then serve wine. Lots of wine. So when I walk out that door he's already drunk. But tonight—we'll meet."
"I thought you'd changed, Elliot. Just a second ago I almost felt like I didn't have to be afraid of you, but... you're the same."
"Why should I believe that's a bad thing?"
"Because no obsession is good. You should know that by now."