My first priority is Ella. It will be for as long as I’m alive. “Understood,” I tell Kam. My tone isn’t as even as I wanted. The tension in the air thickens. My muscles are ready for violence. It would at least take the edge off if we came to blows. Muffled sounds of Ella moving around inside her bedroom can be heard. She must be finished with her bath.
If we’re going to fight, it’ll have to be later. Kam seems to realize that at the same time I do. “Good.”
He releases me and I release the knob, opting to knock on the door first. “Ella?”
There’s no answer from the other side. I do a set of four-count breaths to calm the fuck down and focus, followed by another one. Then I open the door.
My heart races again the moment I cross the threshold. All of the terror that had been dampened from going toe to toe with Kam comes back full force.
Ella’s sadness hangs in the air inside her bedroom. The space is clean, containing muted tones and decorated with expensive furniture. The mood isn’t a neat and tidy one, though. It’s heavy. Pervasive. Almost as if it’s hard to breathe.
Ella leans against her dresser; the mirror is still one made of polished metal rather than glass. It’s a reminder of what happened to her before.
With damp hair clinging to her back, she turns her head to look over her shoulder at me. Those beautiful chestnut eyes reach mine and there’s longing there but something else too.
The sight of her makes my breath hitch. Wrapped only in a towel, her face is flushed from crying. Her cheeks are tearstained and her eyes rimmed in red. She’s the epitome of sadness, and appearing so small in the expansive room, it only emphasizes how alone she must feel. Ella’s home is beautiful, but it doesn’t change the heartbreak in the woman standing in front of me.
Relief hits me harder, shocking my heart. There she is. She’s alive, her heart still beating. She’s still my Ella.
“Go away, Z.” Her voice shakes as she tells me to leave. The sorrow shifts to something else as I close the door behind me. It shuts with a foreboding click.
I take a step toward her. And then another. All the while she stares at me, not daring to command me to do a damn thing.
With every step, a piece of me returns that she desperately needs. It’s for her. Every fucking thing I do is for her.
Ella clutches the towel tighter to her chest. I take another step, reaching out a hand until my fingertips meet her skin.
Her strength begins to crumple at my touch. Ella’s shoulders curve toward me, and I fold her into my arms. This is all I wanted when Kam was blocking my way in the hall. Ella in my arms where she belongs.
Cold droplets from her hair soak through my shirt, but her warm body molds to mine. She leans into me, letting me hold her. I can’t help but kiss her temple, telling her in as soothing of a voice as I can, “That’s better.”
“Z, what are you doing here?” she questions, her face still pressed to my chest.
“Did you think I wasn’t going to come?”
She pulls away slightly, enough to look up at me and whispers, “It might be better if you go.”
“Who am I to you?” My voice is harder now, and it’s exactly what she needs.
Ella’s breathing grows ragged as her eyes shine with new tears. I knew she’d be afraid. I knew she’d question whether I was going to come for her. It’s what caused her to melt down at the party. Her uncertainty is something I have to be patient with. Something I need to tame.
“Who am I to you?” I ask again.
Ella’s expression falls. “You should go—”
“Ella, answer me. Who am I to you?”
I emphasize each word, leaning closer. The heat between us is intense enough to burn my skin. She takes a rough breath but doesn’t answer.
Ella’s shoulders tremble. It’s a sign her walls are coming down. It’s what I’m waiting for. I’m not going to back off until she’s okay.
Sadness, hurt and guilt coat the back of my throat. I did wrong by Ella. I should have stopped her or stopped myself. I should never have let us reach the point where she felt like this.
I know now. And I will fix this. If it’s the last fucking thing I ever do, I will fix this.
She meets my eyes, and Ella’s softening now. Giving in.
“Z,” she says softly. Her heart is broken. I can hear it in her voice.
“Who am I to you?”
“My Dom.”
“That’s right. Act like it.” She stiffens.