His words leave no room for argument—he’s a prisoner here. I’m no longer scared of Catherine, or Joshua, or even Elias. I’m scared I won’t be able to get out of this place. That I’ll be trapped in the Ruby forever.
“I have to go to the ballroom,” I say. “I have to talk to my brother and father.” I turn to leave, but Elias’s arm shoots out to stop me. I gasp in a breath and turn to him. His cheeks are flaming red, his chest rising and falling.
“No,” he says definitively. “You’re not going to the party. I won’t let you.”
“Why not? I have an invitation.”
“Because that party’s not for you, that’s why,” he says. Despite his harsh tone, Elias’s fingers press gently into my skin and draw me closer. “I know you love your family, but this is about you. You don’t belong there,” he murmurs.
“People keep telling me I don’t belong,” I say like it’s a rejection. “But I belonged with you. You understood me.” Even now my desire for him is overwhelming, madness twinged with desperation. “But we can’t be together,” I say, wanting to cry at the truth in it. “And you always knew that.”
“You’re breaking my heart,” he responds immediately. His other hand slides over my waist, and when he looks down at me, my legs go weak. I don’t want to leave him. Even though I have to.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and then our lips crash together, our mouths hot and frenzied. I get on my tiptoes to be closer, and the buttons on Catherine’s shirt pull open. Elias backs me into the wall, kissing my neck, murmuring my name as his hand slips over my thigh. I’m completely lost in the passion, the contact of his body against mine. I forget my pain and my fear.
I can just feel. With him I can feel.
“I’ve always hated this shirt,” he says, peeling the fabric off my shoulders to kiss my skin. The danger, the terror—it feeds this fire between us. Elias and I are almost over. The thought is palpable.
He makes me moan, pressing me into the wall. I kiss him harder, whispering between his lips for him not to stop. I shove his suit jacket open, my hands everywhere. I’m obsessed with the heightened senses. I want more of everything. More of him.
From the door someone clears their throat.
I jump and push Elias back, adjusting my shirt to pin it closed with my fingers. Elias doesn’t react nearly as quickly, watching me a beat longer like he’s still lost in the moment. But then he drags his gaze to the door, and I turn and see her.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Catherine says with a long sigh. She’s positioned against the frame, bored and disgusted at the same time. “There are more . . . pressing issues than your sexual frustration, Audrey,” she continues. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak with Eli. It’s urgent.”
I hate her so much. Elias tries to help me refasten the buttons of the shirt, holding back a smile as he does. I swat his hand away, already embarrassed. Elias turns to Catherine.
“You ruined that shirt on purpose,” she calls to him. Elias adjusts his suit jacket, crossing the room. “I’m surprised you didn’t throw it into the fire,” she says.
“You came in too early,” he teases. He stops in front of her, and I expect him to send her away, but instead he smiles warmly. “Shouldn’t you be at the party?”
Catherine’s bitchiness fades, and she reaches to put her palms on his cheeks, examining to see if it’s really him. “I was too worried about you,” she whispers, her blue eyes misting over. “I thought . . .” Her voice trails off, and Elias puts his hands over hers, a tender moment passing between them.
“You never have to worry about me, Cathy.”
“I always worry about you because you’re senseless.” She sniffles and then lets out a quiet, self-conscious laugh. She wipes at her cheeks and I realize that she was crying. There’s a small stab of sympathy, but it mixes with jealousy and I look away. I’m suddenly the third wheel, and it brings me back to my senses. I need to go. I need to get out of here.
Catherine’s voice lowers and she starts to whisper, clear I’m not part of their conversation, but it’s the distraction I need. Without a word I steal past them. At the door I turn back. Whatever it is that Catherine is saying, Elias’s brow is furrowed as he listens intently.
“He’s going to retaliate,” I hear Catherine say. “You have to . . .”
But I don’t listen to the rest. Without either of them noticing, I slip out the door into the hallway. I shouldn’t worry about petty things like boys or relationships—Catherine was right, I have bigger problems. But it doesn’t erase the fact that Elias is different. Hell, he dated Catherine. The horrible things I’ve done since my mother died pale in comparison to her temperament. He’d accept my mistakes.