Chapter 2: Submission
Pairings: Bonnie x Elijah
Warnings: Masturbation
A/N: Hi again. I have the first few chapters of this fic written but editing takes a while to complete. Here's more for now. Also, the formatting in the first chapter is a bit different. Do you guys like the extra spaces in between lines or do you like the formatting of the first chapter better? This chapter is how I usually format it because of how it imports (the extra spaces are automatic) but I can change it for you. Additionally, do you all like it when I bold the text? I decided to ditch the bold this fic because someone made a comment a while back and it left me wondering. The bolded dialogue is purely for my ADHD pleasure but since this fic is dialogue-heavy, I figured it'd be too much. Let me know your thoughts.
Also, I wanted this fic to be short and sweet but you all know I'm long-winded lol. This is my attempt at a slow burn but I can already see things speeding up between these two. The ending is a bit smutty (self-indulgence) but I kept it cute... ish. For now. :)
Enjoy!
The gala ended without incident, and Elijah remained the perfect gentleman, aside from his usual advances. She was both relieved and disappointed when, rather than riding home together, they parted ways at Crystal Gardens. The long drive home gave her time to reflect, and she uncorked the bottle of champagne she'd neglected earlier, sipping slowly as the city lights blurred outside the window. Mr. Mikaelson was hard to read, a mystery wrapped in control. His advances hadn't gone unnoticed, and as much as he piqued her curiosity, Bonnie knew better than to cross that line. Still, she had to admit—he was magnetic. And she could feel herself drawn to him more with each encounter. She smirked as she thought about all the times he invaded her personal space. And she could feel herself drawn to him more with each encounter. He's got one more time to invade my personal space; she mused with a smirk before I risk it all out of morbid curiosity.
That night, she made use of her vibrator. She hadn't been in the mood to pleasure herself lately—work had been demanding—but between his tender touches, heated gazes, and the copious amounts of champagne, Bonnie was feeling extra frisky.
She was beginning to understand what Rebekah meant by being consumed.
More often than she cared to admit, she fantasized about what it'd be like if Elijah was bold enough to proposition her. How did the women he entertained handle him? She wasn't inexperienced, not by a long shot, but seduction wasn't her strength. Still, the thought of him, of his hands on her, left her restless.
Those fantasies kept her in bed for most of the day, cuddling her Rose-shaped toy. It felt ridiculous to be this wound tight over a man she hardly knew, b but her imagination spun out of control with endless possibilities. And she was more than backed up.
She allowed guilt to propel her out of bed to clean her body and her sheets to get rid of the evidence of her sins. She was prepared to take her dirty little secret to the grave, and if anyone tried to guess what she'd been up to, they'd have to waterboard the information from her.
Her first day back to work had been blissfully uneventful, and her colleagues were none the wiser. Before Elijah checked out, she had one of the bellmen discreetly deliver a handwritten thank-you card along with the credit card and earrings he tried to get her to keep.
All day, she tried to force her mind away from all things Mikaelson, but she kept falling down the rabbit hole. Everything reminded her of him, from the way he somehow knew she'd be off the days he needed her to the meticulous care he took in making sure she was well-prepared for the gala. That level of calculation should have made her skittish, but Elijah used his powers for good. At least so far.
But now… she was curious.
What would it be like if he stopped being the gentleman? How far would he go?
How bad could he be?
"Bonnie?"
She snapped out of her thoughts, saved from the slippery slope her mind had been heading down.
"Yeah?" When she turned to face Matt, he was holding a large, heart-shaped box of roses from The Million Roses. Most of the roses were dipped in gold, with the center bursting with the reddest roses she'd ever seen. Her heart raced as she immediately guessed who it was from.
"You have a delivery," he said with a look she couldn't read. He stood in the door frame as he watched her open the note card that came with it. Bonnie's pulse quickened, only slightly calming when she saw the card hadn't been signed.
For all your hard work and dedication. It read. She touched one of the soft petals, feeling the weight of the gesture sink in.
"Is that real gold?" Matt asked, intrigued. Bonnie's face flushed.
"I don't think so," she denied. "Probably spray painted." If Matt thought she was lying, he was gracious enough not to call her out on it.
"Looks like you've landed on someone's radar, Bon," he teased, shooting her a grin before stepping out, leaving her alone with the rush of emotions that came with the extravagant gift.
She was torn—impressed, flattered, and, if she was being honest, a little nervous. This wasn't the kind of attention she typically received, and though she wasn't one to seek it out, there was something undeniably thrilling about being on the receiving end of such a gesture. Enzo had always been more of a practical man—big on acts of service but not the type for grand gifts. He was the 'buy whatever you want' kind, leaving her to decide. While that had been nice, she'd never really indulged herself.
Mr. Mikaelson, however…
Her smile faltered when she noticed one of her superiors, Jenna, approaching. Carefully, she placed the heart-shaped box in the corner of her desk, and with more enthusiasm than necessary, she turned her attention to a coworker in need of help at check-in, throwing herself into the task.
From afar, Matt noticed the extra pep in Bonnie's step and made a note to tease her about it later.
.xXx.
Bonnie stared into the golden hues of twilight with an empty canvas in front of her. She had every intention of painting, yet one person lived in her mind rent-free. Her phone sat in her lap, the temptation to dial his number gnawing at her. She needed to thank him for the gift, and she had to address the small fire he'd inadvertently caused among her coworkers. Convincing everyone that the gift came from a secret admirer had been exhausting, and while she wasn't overly concerned with what others thought, violating company policy was another matter.
Before she could change her mind, she dialed his number. He answered after the first ring, and she had to steady herself to keep from stammering.
"Hello, Bonnie." She could tell he was smiling and questioned how much she'd studied him throughout the years to know that.
"Good evening, Elijah." She said, training herself to use his first name. There was a pause long enough for doubt to creep in, but before she could second-guess herself, he spoke.
"And what did Elijah do to deserve this tone," he asked. Bonnie stared at the balcony ceiling, wondering why she thought this would be a good idea.
"There's no tone," she tried, more to convince herself than him.
"There's definitely a tone, Bonnie." His voice dipped an octave, and she instinctively pulled the phone away from her ear as if it would create more distance between them. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quiet the flutter in her stomach before bringing the phone back to her ear.
"I'm sorry. Let me start over," she said, shifting in her seat to gather her composure. She could almost see his satisfied smile on the other end. "Good evening, Mr. Mikaelson," she corrected, falling back on the formalities that used to feel so natural but now felt wrong.
Why did she accept his invitation?
"Ah, corporate Bonnie has entered the chat. I'm not sure which I prefer more."
"Jesus," she whispered under her breath.
Elijah chuckled. "You're getting warmer."
"Will you stop that?" she laughed, her nerves starting to loosen. Elijah smirked before taking control of the conversation she was utterly failing at. She was thankful for the lifeline.
"I take it you didn't like the flowers," he began.
"No, no. I loved them I just—"
"Didn't want me to send them to your workplace," he finished for her. Bonnie nodded before remembering he couldn't see her.
"Yes. I don't want to draw attention to myself."
"I understand," he said, more serious now. "But as you remember, I don't have your home address, so I had nowhere else to send them. And since I wanted to include a handwritten note, I had to visit their Los Angeles location to place the order."
"LA?" She couldn't help but ask.
"This was last week—before you agreed," he clarified, saving her the mental gymnastics of trying to place him in two cities at once. She quickly deflected, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he had, once again, gone to great lengths for her.
"Last week!? What if I said no to your proposal?" She challenged.
"Then my next visit would have been very awkward," he teased. "I kept the note vague enough so you'd assume I was thanking you for meeting my hotel requests. And I purposely didn't sign it, so you might not know it was from me."
"Yes, I would've. I know your handwriting," she blurted, instantly regretting the words as the line went quiet. Shit.
"Do you, now?" Elijah's voice was playful, but she could hear the intrigue. She shifted uncomfortably, choosing to deflect again.
"You enjoy setting traps, don't you?" she said, hoping to redirect the conversation.
He laughed genuinely this time. "I struggle to see how this is my fault."
"You know exactly what you're doing," she replied, her heart thumping as she waited for his response.
"Now who's setting traps?"
Bonnie let her head fall back against the chair, laughing despite the butterflies swirling in her stomach. This man had her in a complete tizzy, and he knew it.
"That wasn't intentional."
"Hmm," he mused, as if he didn't quite believe her. Bonnie bit her lip, fighting back a sound that threatened to escape. She stood up from the balcony, walking back inside to her dresser where the roses he'd sent were proudly displayed.
"Anyway," she began, running her fingers over one of the gold-dipped petals, "thank you for the gift. It was thoughtful and beautiful."
"You're most welcome," he said smoothly before adding, "I'll discreetly mail your payment to the address of your choosing." Bonnie grew quiet as she pondered whether to provide her home address or keep him in the dark. Rebekah's warning echoed in her mind, and she felt like a rat in a maze. No matter which path she took, every road seemed to lead back to Elijah.
"The hotel is fine," she answered, her tone firm. She heard the soft chuckle on the other end as if her defiance amused him.
"As you wish."
"No return address," she added quickly, not wanting an envelope to show up with all fifteen letters of his name plastered on the front.
"Smart girl," he praised. Her stomach clenched.
"Good night, Mr. Mikaelson," she said, hoping to re-establish some boundaries. Elijah smiled at her attempt.
"Good night, Bonnie," he replied, his tone making it clear he wasn't planning on respecting those boundaries for long.
.xXx.
Bonnie almost laughed when she received an overnight delivery the next day. She shook her head and signed for it, trying her best to ignore the nosy glances from her co-workers—Matt in particular. His eyes lingered on the envelope longer than necessary, but she gave nothing away. She had no idea what Elijah was up to this time, but she didn't plan to satisfy anyone's curiosity except her own—not even Matt's. She placed the slender envelope in her tote, saying her goodbyes as she left for the day.
As she stepped into the crisp evening air, she inhaled deeply as she often did to rid her mind of work. She slipped into the crowd of pedestrians as they milled about the city sidewalks, welcoming the anonymity that came with living in a crowded city. The sounds of the streets muffled as she descended into the subway station, relieved when her designated train sounded in the distance. The platform was crowded, but Bonnie managed to find a comfortable seat in the corner, and as the train lunged forward, she reached into her tote, where the envelope sat neatly on top.
She tore into the envelope, eyes widening as she assessed what was in front of her. It was a blank check, signed and ready to be filled in with a note attached that read—in his elegant calligraphy: Know your worth.
"I know he didn't," she muttered under her breath, chuckling at his shenanigans. Elijah was impossible, and every time she thought he couldn't get more ridiculous, he turned up the gas. He was always calculating, finding unique ways to push her buttons, but this was bold, even for him. She stared out the window as her mind began its usual descent into chaos wherever he was concerned. What did he think this was? A game? A conquest? Or was it something more? He'd all but told her he intended to court her, but for what exactly?
Not knowing his angle was maddening. And though she was flattered and could almost appreciate his sense of humor, she needed to know what his end goal with her was. The sooner she learned, the sooner she could shut this down if need be.
Still, as she stepped off the train and began her ascent above ground, she couldn't shake the feeling that even if she tried to put the brakes on things, Elijah wouldn't make it easy. She felt caught in his crosshairs, and no matter what move she made, he was always ahead of her.
She was beginning to realize that's what she was drawn to—his unpredictability, his confidence, the way he saw straight through her. As vulnerable and exposed as she felt around him, it felt good to be seen. Even if she was way out of her element.
By the time she reached her apartment, the weight of the day had caught up to her, yet her mind was still buzzing. She kicked off her shoes and set her tote on the coffee table, eyeing the envelope with a mix of curiosity and frustration. She ran her hands through her hair and exhaled sharply, her body itching to unwind but her thoughts unwilling to let her.
Her routine was almost automatic—warm shower, sweats with a loose tee, skincare enacted—each step an attempt to soothe the tension that had built up inside her. But it wasn't enough. Not tonight.
Once she was finally curled up on the couch, her eyes flickered toward the phone Elijah had given her, sitting on the coffee table. She stared at it for a moment, the temptation pulling at her. She had already called him more times than she should've in the past week and could feel a habit forming—much to her dismay. The phone felt like a lifeline, a connection to something she couldn't quite explain.
With a sharp inhale, she picked it up and dialed his number, fully aware of what she was doing.
"If you wanted me to call, you could have asked me nicely," she said the moment he answered.
"Where's the fun in that," he asked in what sounded like a confession. This phone call was more than likely a part of his plan, and despite herself, she smiled. For all of his calm exterior, inside the man was utter chaos.
"Seriously though," she continued, leaning back into the sofa cushions. "I've never done anything like this before; I have no clue what amount to charge." Google wasn't helpful at all, and the images that came up under the search for 'escort services' were forever burned into her brain. "Just tell me what you'd normally pay the other women for…whatever services rendered, and I'll fill it in."
The silence on the other end of the call was palpable.
"I'm not sure what you're insinuating, but you're nothing like them," Elijah said, his firm voice making her tense. "Do you understand what you're—" He cut himself off. "I suggest you re-read the note and call me once you've cashed it." Bonnie opened her mouth to argue, but the chime of the call disconnecting silenced her. She stared at the phone in shock as the factory default screen stared back at her. She blinked, her thoughts scrambling to process what the hell just happened. A startled whimper left her lips as she struggled to find her voice.
"I know this mother—" Blood boiling, she dialed him back.
"You did not just hang up on me!" She snapped.
"I did," he responded coolly. A pause. "Add a comma." The line went dead again.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed him once again. "You got one more time to—"
"Not another word," he commanded his voice hard. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, the audacity of it all making her laugh. Was he serious?
"Harmless flirting aside, did my behavior the other night offend you in any way?" He asked, his voice calm and collected. She paused, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone. When she took too long to speak, he headed her off. "I expect an answer." Her face flushed with heat and red seeped into her vision.
"Elijah?" She seethed.
His voice dripped with sarcasm as he answered, not at all perturbed by the warning in her tone, "Yes, Miss Bennett?"
She resisted the urge to reach into the phone to choke him.
"Who do you think you're talking to," she snarled, her jaw tight as her fists clenched.
A smile stretched across his lips."Does my forwardness offend you?"
"Hell yeah, it offends me."
"Then I apologize." He paused. "Now answer my question." Her disbelief manifested as laughter.
"Not only do you hang up on me twice, but now you have the gall to make demands," she chastised as she sat upright. "I don't like that."
"Need I remind you that in so many words, you accused me of hiring sex workers and suggested I put a price on you." His voice was cold, the words slicing through her like a sharp blade.
She froze. Cold water to the face would have been less shocking. "Hold on, now. I think you're being a bit dramatic," she backpedaled, her tone softer now.
"And I think you're afraid whatever price you set for yourself won't be good enough." The truth of his words stung, cutting deeper than she expected. Her eyes welled up, and the anger she felt at him—at herself—rose to the surface. "Keep your money," she choked out.
"That is precisely what I expected you'd say."
Her frustration hit its peak, and she snapped. "Fuck you, Elijah!" She ended the call and slammed the phone on the couch. She grabbed the velvet throw pillow beside her and screamed into it, her emotions swirling out of control. Minutes later, her breathing slowed, but the reality of what she'd just done hit her like a punch to the gut.
She'd just cussed out her company's number-one client.
Shit.
Panic-stricken, she went still as her thoughts began to race, yet anger wouldn't let her concede. She watched as the phone lit up and Elijah's name flashed across the screen. She quickly denied the call, but he didn't give up easily. She sent him to voicemail, again and again, until the calls stopped altogether. Just when she thought she could breathe, the phone buzzed again; it was a text. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she swiped up, her pulse racing as she read the message:
Are you going to make me come over there?
Bonnie's heart dropped. She glanced around her apartment as if he would materialize at any moment. Her mind spiraled as she imagined every worst-case scenario. How did he even know where she lived?
Panicked, she dialed Tyler's number. He answered on the second ring.
"Miss Bennett?" He maintained his professionalism, but she could hear it in his voice; he was bewildered. And so was she.
"Hi!" She said with a bit more enthusiasm than she intended. "You didn't happen to give E—uh—Mr. Mikaelson my address, did you?"
"No, I haven't. It's against my contract to share contact information." Relief washed over her and she let out a shaky breath, placing her hand on her chest to manually slow it down.
Tyler hesitated before asking, "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for asking." She chewed her bottom lip. "May I ask where he is?"
"I'm not sure where he went, but I dropped him off at the airport this afternoon after picking him up from the hotel." He explained. "Are you sure everything's okay? Should I swing by?"
"No. I'm fine, just curious." Her mind whirled. Why would he send that message if he wasn't in town? "Thank you, Tyler. Have a good evening."
Bonnie sunk into the couch and groaned as she wondered what kind of problem she'd thrown herself into. The thought of waiting until morning to do damage control unnerved her, but for now, Elijah could go to hell. She'd deal with him later.
Minutes passed as she tried to relax, the tension in her muscles slowly easing. He's probably a few states away by now, she told herself. The text had to be one of his games, a way to keep her on edge, to get under her skin. Even so, her anxiety spiked, and every possible scenario played out in her mind. What if he really knew where she lived? What if he showed up tonight?
She shook her head, scolding herself.
"Don't let him consume you, Bonnie," she sighed. Disaster averted, she decided to order in for the night and find the perfect movie to fall asleep to. She reached for her phone again, scrolling through takeout options. She needed to find a movie, something light, something that could distract her long enough to forget the man who was occupying way too much space in her head.
She had to put him out of her mind before she drowned in him.
.xXx.
Several hours later, Bonnie was jolted awake by a knock loud enough to wake the dead. She jumped out of bed, fully alert, her heart racing. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 12:01. She'd only been asleep three hours.
"I swear to God…" she muttered, tightening her robe as she hurried to the foyer just as another knock echoed through her apartment.
"Jesus! Just a minute!" She called, wiping her eyes and praying there wasn't crust at the corners of her mouth. Grabbing the bat she kept by the door, she cursed her height, too short to see through the peephole. Instead, she flipped on the foyer light and shouted, "This better not be you, Elijah!" She waited for a reply but was met with silence. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door as far as the chain allowed.
With a frustrated growl, she rolled her eyes, then slammed the door shut to undo the chain before swinging it open, clearly annoyed.
"I honestly can't believe you right now," she said, too tired to pick a real fight. Against her better judgment, she stepped aside, letting him enter her apartment. Before closing the door, she glanced down the hallway, checking to see if his loud knocking had disturbed the neighbors. "Are you here to kill me? How did you get my address? What happened to you 'respecting' my wishes?" The questions tumbled out in rapid succession.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, brushing off her accusation. "I kept my word. I didn't get your address from Tyler," he added, walking in with his hands tucked into his pockets. "I intended to respect your wishes, but… unforeseen circumstances led me here," he said, his eyes roaming the room as if assessing everything she owned.
"What? Not fancy enough?" She quipped, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. When his eyes finally landed on her, she swore he was appraising her as well.
"You didn't answer my text," he said flatly.
"And? Did you come here to throw me across your knee and punish me?" The words were out before she could stop them, and she instantly regretted the mental picture she had just created for both of them. His eyes glimmered with what could only be described as hope.
"Never mind, why are you here?" She asked, shaking off the thoughts. The movement reminded her she'd worn her bonnet to bed, and her face flushed in embarrassment. "Oh my God," she muttered, "Haven't you embarrassed me enough for today?"
He glanced at his phone, checking the time, while she struggled not to focus on the soft glow highlighting his chiseled features. She needed to pull herself together.
"The day's just beginning, Sweetheart," he said smoothly.
"I don't have time for games. What did you come here for," she demanded, folding her arms. The movement made her chest push against the neckline of her satin nightgown. His gaze flickered to her thighs, where the hem of her nightie had ridden up, then down to her cute, little feet. With each motion, the satin tie holding her robe in place seemed to lose its battle.
Elijah bit his lip before averting his eyes.
"I'm here to apologize since you wouldn't answer my calls," he said, moving away from her. The distance was necessary—for both of them. He moved toward the living room, navigating by the soft glow of her motion-sensor nightlights. Bonnie followed as if an invisible thread tethered her to him.
"No need to apologize for the truth," she spat bitterly, unlocking her arms as she moved toward the couch, where the envelope and check still lay. "You can have that back," she added with even more venom. He gently took the envelope from her, trying not to smile at the attitude she was giving him.
"I appreciate what you've done for me and the time we've spent together, but I don't want or need your money."
Ignoring her, as usual, Elijah hitched up his pant leg and sat on the chaise lounge. She watched as he crossed one leg over the other and casually reached into his suit blazer before switching on the lamp. Bonnie glowered, more irritated with herself for drinking in every detail of him. The flash of his red-soled shoes didn't escape her notice, nor did the gold cap of the Montblanc pen he began to write with. She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to one foot.
"Go ahead, say it," he said, the humor in hit tone unmistakable.
"Who needs a sixteen-hundred-dollar pen?" She asked, unable to resist. His lips curled into a smirk as he continued writing.
"That's what I admire about you, Miss Bennett," he said, holding up the completed check. "Who else would have noticed?" When she refused to take it, he placed it on the end table beside him. He carefully screwed the cap back on his pen and slid it into his pocket.
"I like the stroke," he said, enunciating each letter in the word stroke with deliberate precision. She unfolded her arms and let out a breathless laugh, confirming that he was teasing her on purpose.
"Are you done? I have to be at work by seven tomorrow," she said, her tone flat. Elijah patted the space beside him, and Bonnie suddenly felt like a stranger in her own home. She was more nervous than she cared to admit and resented him for invading her space.
Even if she hadn't bothered to kick him out yet.
"Do you honestly believe I'd harm you?" All traces of humor left his voice, replaced by genuine concern. Bonnie relaxed slightly, her expression softening.
"No," she answered truthfully. "I've got this, remember?" She held up her battered, decades-old Louisville Slugger. She'd gotten it at a baseball game her dad had taken her to when it flew into the stands. A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled her dad lifting her to catch it. It was one of a handful of memories she had with him before he signed over his rights to her grandmother. Elijah's eyes drifted to the bat in question, a grin forming.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't enjoy being on the receiving end of your skills," he said. She wondered if he purposefully speaking in double entendres or if she was reading too much into his words.
"I expect you to cash that," he said, nodding toward the check on the nightstand. Bonnie leaned the bat against the wall and sat beside him, leaving a safe distance between them.
"And if I don't?" She challenged.
"Then I'll double the amount," he replied smoothly. "I'm not leaving until you promise." Bonnie sighed, realizing he wasn't going to budge on this.
"Even if I call the cops?" She tried again.
"I doubt you'd want to involve those idiots." He was right, of course.
"Fine, I'll cash it," she relented begrudgingly. His eyes shimmered with satisfaction—the same look he'd had when she agreed to be his date to the Crystal Gardens Ball.
"Someone ought to take you down a notch," she said, her annoyance clear.
"Perhaps. Are you up for the challenge?" Her wry laugh made him smile.
"How did you get my address?" She asked, steering the conversation back to its original course. Elijah chuckled, thoroughly impressed by her ability to pivot from his advances.
"I have my ways."
"Enlighten me," she pressed.
"Before I get to that," he said, leaning back slightly. "Allow me to apologize for my actions earlier."
"You mean hanging up on me twice?" She clarified, her anger returning.
"Yes." His eyes locked with hers, and she held his gaze. "That' wasn't kind."
"I'll say," she scoffed.
"And not just that," Elijah continued, his voice softer now. "While I'm all for knowing one's worth, I should have expressed it differently." She stayed quiet, the sting of his earlier words flooding back. Their eyes met again, and his expression was pensive, almost regretful. He looked so uncomfortable in his attempt at an apology that she could tell he wasn't used to making one.
"You sure know how to woo a girl," she said dryly. "As much as that hurt to hear you weren't exactly wrong," she admitted.
"That doesn't excuse my behavior," he emphasized. The frustration from their earlier fight had clouded his judgment, leading him to speak out of turn. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. She was still annoyed, but the sincerity of his words wasn't lost on her.
"I'm sorry I lost my temper and cursed you out." She said at last. "You have an annoying ability to get under my skin," she added, her tone lighter. Elijah smiled but kept his response measured.
"A talent of mine, I suppose," he replied with a wry grin. Bonnie rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small tug of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
"I deserved it," he acknowledged, referring to her earlier outburst. His gaze was heavier now, more serious. "Did I hurt you?" His voice was gentle, and the concern in his eyes made her pause. She bit her lip and shook her head slightly.
"It's alright."
"It is not," he corrected, his tone firm. "Don't be afraid to tell me." Bonnie sighed as her interrupted sleep began to pull at her eyes.
"It stung a little," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But why do you care so much?" Her question lingered between them. She needed to know why he came all this way just to apologize in person. "And I thought you left," she added, remembering her conversation with Tyler.
Per usual, he sidestepped most of her questions. "I care because I see something in you that's worth fighting for," he said smoothly. The air seemed to leave her lungs as her stomach flipped. She stared at him, unable to look away even though every instinct told her to bury herself beneath the sofa.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," he repeated, his words wrapped around her heart and squeezed gently. "I'll make it up to you," he promised as he stood, his movements slow and deliberate. "Starting with letting you return to your beauty rest," he added, signaling his intent to finally depart. She pretended not to feel a twinge of disappointment.
"You can finish by allowing me to return to my life as normal," she replied half-heartedly as she trailed behind him. He didn't respond immediately. When he reached the doorway, he paused, turning to face her. The light from the hallway spilled into her apartment, casting a soft glow over them both. He leaned in, and suddenly, Bonnie forgot how to breathe.
"I think we both know that's not going to happen," he murmured, stepping closer. He raised his hand slowly, a gesture of peace. "Allow me," he whispered. Her gaze remained locked on his as he gently cupped her chin. Like the night of the ball, his thumb grazed her bottom lip, pulling down slightly as he wet his thumb before wiping the corner of her mouth.
It took her a moment to realize what he was doing—wiping the sleep from the corner of her lips—and it took all of her resolve not to dart her tongue out to taste him. Before she could say anything, he spoke again. "I need to know we're in a good place before I leave." His voice was low, intimate, and she forced herself to breathe, her breath escaping in a shudder. She tried to ignore the way his eyes darkened lustfully, filled with a heat that made her pulse race.
With a jerky nod, she finally managed to form a string of thoughts, "We're good." It was all she could get out.
Elijah smiled and nodded. "Perfect," He said, pulling away with swift ease. Her chest felt hollow in his absence as he stepped through the doorway, lingering just long enough to flash her one last smile. "Sleep tight, Princess."
"Goodnight, Elijah." She whispered.
"Don't forget the deadbolt," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway. "And fire your doorman." Bonnie rolled her eyes and waited until he rounded the corner toward the elevators to close the door. She sighed heavily, releasing the pent-up emotions she suppressed in his presence. She took a few steps toward her room but stopped, spinning back to engage the deadbolt.
"Goddamn it," she hissed, realizing why he felt the need to remind her. He had this uncanny ability to burrow under her skin, unraveling her logic. She felt lost in him any time he was near—like a deer caught in headlights on a dark country road. Pressing her back against the door, she groaned as a whirlwind of feelings swirled in her chest.
She pushed off the door and eyed the deadbolt once more, her fingers tracing its cold surface. A small, involuntary smile flickered across her lips as a laugh escaped her. Of course, he'd managed to get the last word. He always did. She rubbed her face, trying to banish the lingering thoughts of him but failing miserably.
"He's consuming you, Bonnie," she murmured, trying to sound stern while speaking to her inner self—but the traitorous whore wasn't listening. The warning felt hollow, the words slipping away as if spoken into the void. Deep down, she knew the truth. The delusion was seeping in like a virus, taking root in the dark recesses of her mind. It wrapped around her thoughts, seducing her into dangerous territory.
She touched her lips and closed her eyes, the memory of his touch igniting something deep within. His maddeningly delicate caress—he'd wiped away the remnants of her sleep but left behind a storm. A storm of emotions, swirling and chaotic, threatening to pull her under. She felt herself coming undone, unraveling like a loose thread as he meticulously picked her apart, piece by piece.
With another exasperated sigh, she wandered back into the living room, flicking off the nightstand lamp. The room fell into a shadowy darkness, but the check she was hell-bent on ignoring caught her eye as the moon's glow settled on it—a reminder of everything she was trying to escape. She couldn't bring herself to deal with that, not tonight.
Instead, she made a beeline for her bed, reaching under her pillow for the pink vibrator she kept hidden. Tonight, it would serve as a silent rebellion against the emotional chaos Elijah had awakened in her. Tonight, she would reclaim control over herself.
If only for a moment.
She stared at the device in her hand as she clicked it on. The hum filled the silence, and she welcomed it, hoping it would drown out her thoughts. But as she writhed under the sheets, she couldn't control the way her mind wandered back to him—his voice, his touch, the maddening control he was slowly gaining over her without even trying. She hated it, and yet—
She craved it, too.
As the vibrations pulsed through her, she tried to chase the peace she needed, seeking it in the release she so desperately wanted. She needed to regain control, to free herself from him, if only for a moment. Determined, she focused on the sensations, her tense body battling the unresolved energy building inside.
But her mind had other plans. The closer she reached her peak, the more she thought of him. His eyes—possessive and unyielding, watching her with a look that both infuriated and ignited her. His voice—low and intimate, calling her 'Princess' in a tone laced with familiarity and dominance that made her want to surrender, despite every feminist rant she'd ever spewed. His touch, gentle yet commanding, sent her spiraling, and when he stared at her as if she were the only person in the world, every rational thought abandoned her.
The memory of him was so intoxicating; ashamedly, she leaned into it, her body racing toward the edge. Her breath hitched as the vibrations surged, and so did the thoughts of him.
Memories of their encounters overwhelmed her, flooding every inch of her mind as her hips rolled against the vibrator. It was almost too much to bear. His knowing smirk, those piercing eyes, the soft laughter at her expense—the way he spoke in code as if always telling her something without ever being forthcoming.
The way his thumb tasted against her lips.
That thought sent her over the edge. Her legs shook violently as her body seized, trembling while she came undone, her release hitting her with a force that left her breathless and spent. Yet the release wasn't what she'd hoped for. Her body may have relaxed, freed from tension, but her mind clung to him. He still had her.
Whimpering in defeat and with a twinge of guilt, she placed the vibrator on her nightstand and curled into herself, pulling her knees to her chest. She wanted him gone, wanted things to return to the way they were before he called her to his suite.
Or at least that's what she told herself. That's what made sense. But logic abandoned her the moment she first laid eyes on him. Long before he'd ever summoned her to his room and awakened the desire she'd been suppressing for years. Beneath all her resistance, beneath the layers of denial, there was one undeniable truth she could no longer ignore.
She wanted him.
It made no damn sense. How much she wanted to give in. To throw caution to the wind, to stop holding on so tightly to the walls she'd built around herself. To just live—freely, recklessly, and without fear. Without consequences.
The tension between them—the push and pull—was maddening. But it was also thrilling. She wanted to win this battle for control. Winning meant keeping him at arm's length, where she could manage her feelings. Winning meant maintaining her distance, admiring him from afar, where she'd remain safe. Winning was what she was used to.
But losing—losing felt exhilarating.
Losing felt thrilling in a way she'd never experienced. Losing meant the battle for control would become something more, something like a dance.
A dance she wasn't sure she wanted to end.