Chapter 7

Ellias

I sat in the very last row, the mahogany bench feeling like a church pew at a funeral I wasn’t allowed to mourn. All my muscles were tense. A part of me was thrilled my mother was walking into this. Another part was scared because the man will be around every single day.

I could successfully stay at my accommodation until I graduate, hell I could even get my own apartment. But my mother was strict about keeping the family close. My father strived to keep that radiation as well. I couldn't disrespect him in such a way.

I sigh. 

I stared at the back of her head. She stood at the altar, her posture so straight it looked painful. And then there was his new husband.

Even from the back, and with the distance between us his presence successfully dragged the air out of the room. He didn't fidget. He didn't lean. I snort at how the two match each other completely. But still my mind wavered to the version of him I had experienced that night. 

How hard it was for him to let go of control. How he willingly gave me the control even though he fought me at first. How wonderfully he came undone in my hands. The sounds he made, god they were beautiful. He was beautiful. I remember how vulnerable he seemed. Now this version at the altar…i didnt know who that man was.

The sunlight caught the silver at his temples, a sharp contrast to the midnight black of his suit.

"Please join me in welcoming the new Mr. and Mrs. Vance," the officiant’s voice boomed.

The room erupted into polite, expensive applause. I didn't clap. I refused to clap. My hands remained clenched in my lap, my fingernails digging into my palms until I felt the sharp sting of broken skin. I watched as William turned to her. He didn't kiss her with passion. He just pressed his lips against her cheeks. I scoff because a handshake would have been better than whatever that was.

As they began their walk down the aisle, the crowd stood. I stayed seated for as long as I could.

They grew closer. I could see the cold, unreadable depths of William’s eyes now. He wasn't looking at the guests. He wasn't looking at his new bride.

His gaze was fixed on me. His eyes told me that he knew and considering how he was not shocked, this was not breaking news to him.

 As he passed my row, the scent of him, sandalwood and something metallic, like rain on hot pavement,brushed past me. He didn't stop, but the corner of his mouth turned up, a ghost of a smirk that was gone before I could be sure it was ever there.

I was right. He knew. He knew exactly what was happening and for some sadistic reason he found it interesting.

"Keep it together, Elias," I whispered to myself, my breathing turning ragged again.

The reception followed like a blurred fever dream. I moved through the shadows of the ballroom, dodging the pitying looks of family friends and the sharp stares of the Vance associates. I found a corner near the tall glass windows that looked out over the dark gardens, clutching a drink I didn't want just so my hands had something to hold.

"You look like you're planning a murder, or perhaps just a very expensive tantrum."

The voice was low, smooth, and came from right behind my ear. I jumped, nearly sloshing my drink onto my sleeve.

I turned to find William standing there. He had ditched the morning coat, standing in just his waistcoat and shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked far more athletic than a man behind a desk should have.

I stared at him weighing whether I should ignore our past interaction or address it.I settle on the former. "Just taking in the view," I snapped, pulling my shoulders back. "It’s a beautiful house.”

William stepped closer, invading my personal space until I was backed against the cold glass. He was a head taller than me, his shadow swallowing mine.

"I told your mom you'd love it." he said, his voice dropping to a vibration I felt in my chest. He reached out, his hand hovering near my face before his fingers grazed the lapel of my suit, straightening it with agonizing slow movement.

I wanted to push him away. I wanted to spit in his face. But my muscles felt like lead again, pinned under the sheer weight of his gaze.

"You were right." I said with a forced smile.

"Im always right." he murmured, his dark eyes dropping to my mouth for a split second before returning to mine.

My throat burnt and my chest hurt. 

His gaze bore into mine. My chest rose and fell quickly as I struggled to keep my emotions under control.

I hate him for being the man my mother chose. I hate that he is the one replacing my dad.

But oh, how i loved the way he felt in my arms, my cock in his mouth, the was he took me so well when i fucked him. 

But looking at his stupid face, the way he remained composed, I hated him even more.

I let out a shallow breath before plastering a smile on my face and raising my eyes to meet his.

“Your wife is seeking your attention.” I said bitterly

He gave me a thin lipped smile before muttering an "Of course." then waking away.