Chapter 87: Chapter 82

Song: 'Hero' by Enrique Iglesias

Let me be your hero

Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?

Would you run, and never look back?

Would you cry, if you saw me cryin'?

And would you save my soul tonight?

Would you tremble, if I touched your lips?

Would you laugh?

Oh, please, tell me this

Now, would you die for the one you loved?

Hold me in your arms tonight

I can be your hero, baby

I can kiss away the pain

I will stand by you forever

You can take my very breath away

........................................................................

ELIJAH’S POV

The last two days were uneventful, professionally and personally as well.

The office has been a hub of hush-hush gossip, for obvious reasons of course, but since it was in the background, we were okay there too; at least I am, and Hannah is trying to make peace with it.

None of my employees have the audacity to come and ask me directly, and as for Hannah, I think they know better than to mess with her, especially after that fight on Friday night. They think it’s a classic case of office romance, or, in my case, fucking an employee. If only they knew how far away it is from reality.

Well, a rumor is a rumor nonetheless.

Hannah and I were on relatively good terms, for a change. And by good terms, I mean no fights or any futile bickering. And it wasn’t because we weren’t talking to each other; surprisingly, we were. We’re learning to coexist without killing each other.

On Monday evening, we were returning home from a business dinner when I had a thought.

I decided to ask her.

Somehow, it has gotten normal for me to initiate a conversation with her that isn’t work-related.

“Why did you react like that yesterday?”

“Like what?” she asked without taking her eyes off of her phone.

“Like your life is ruined or something. Are you always that dramatic?”

“Huh, what are you talking about? Also, I’m never dramatic.”

“I guess barging in all hyperventilating just to check me out comes as second nature to you then?” I smirked internally, knowing how she would react.

It happened exactly as I thought.

Her eyes shot up at me, finally, and her face turned visibly pink.

It’s my favorite shade on her.

“You wish,” she answered smugly, trying to contradict the blush that crept into her eyes.

“I didn’t mind, though.”

Wait, what’s wrong with me?

Well, you didn't; in fact, you enjoyed the attention she was giving you.

“Of course, you didn’t,” she rolled her eyes, hiding the embarrassment, and looked away.

“Well?” I prompted.

“I told you, I don’t want any attention on me,” she shrugged, looking straight ahead on the road now.

“Strange, that’s quite contradictory,” I said it more to myself.

“Contradictory, how?” She turned a little in her seat to face me.

“Considering what you said when we first met,” I gave her a look before focusing back on the road.

Wow, that seems like a long time ago.

My mind flashed back to the memories of that day. Oh, how much I hated her then, and what an asshole I was to her.

“What about it, what did I say?” she questioned with knitted eyebrows.

“You don’t remember what you said that day?” I gave her a side eye and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t remember what I said yesterday, let alone remember something from months ago,” she said nonchalantly.

So she’s saying she doesn’t remember the reason she married me?

“Really? That’s hard to believe.” I looked at her to call her bluff, but her expression didn’t budge one bit. Either she is really good at lying or she actually doesn’t remember.

But how is that possible?

“You said you’re marrying me for the money and exposure.”

“What? When did I say that?” She scrunched her eyes, enhancing the lines on her forehead much deeper.

“You’re going back on your words now? Come on, quit it, Hannah. You said the merger would make us a lot of money and that being with me would get you noticed in the world much quicker than on your own.”

“Oh, that. Shit,” her eyes widened as enlightenment hit her hard. “I didn’t mean it like that; in fact, I didn’t know back then that..." She sighed loudly, stopping abruptly in mid-sentence.

“You didn’t know what?” I questioned seeing how her face went pale all of a sudden.

She straightened in her seat; her whole body language changed; it was much stiffer now, and she was fidgeting with her hands and avoiding my eyes.

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat after her words got stuck. “Never mind,” her voice was so small that it was barely audible.

Of course, she’s lying, or rather hiding something.

But why would she do that?

What it could be?

She didn’t say anything after that, and I didn’t push her. For now.

“No wonder you thought I was a gold digger.” She mumbled uncomfortably after a while, catching my attention.

I didn’t answer as I was still stuck on what she was hiding.

“I don’t know if it makes a difference or if you will even believe me or not, but I didn’t mean it like that. All I wanted was this experience,” she pointed at her business suit, “the professional experience I could get by working with you, achieving high milestones in my career.” She explained. “I want to be successful but not famous, Elijah.” She met my eyes with sincerity. I nodded.

“You can tell me if you want.” I don’t know why, but I wanted her to trust me.

Wow, instead of accusing her of lying or calling her names, you’re actually being considerate. That’s new.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, further confirming my suspicion.

But as for today, there’s something different about her mood since morning. There’s a resting sadness in her eyes; their usual glimmer that was finally back seemed dull.

There wasn’t anything different in the way she usually carried herself; yet her confident, carefree smile was also hesitant. That’s something I’ve learnt, to see past her façade when she doesn’t want others to know something is bothering her. To others it was unnoticeable, but I saw the change in her demeanor.

As I said, we’re okay, so it’s not something I’ve done, or so I hope.

Today, while we were in the meeting, she was absentminded all the while; that’s highly unlikely for her because she’s the most enthusiastic about her work and very attentive too.

But not today.

The whole time her attention was on her cell phone, like she was expecting a call from someone.

But every time her cell phone rang, she’d check it with hope only for disappointment to replace it.

Who is she waiting for to call so desperately?

Her boyfriend?

The thought alone made me clench my fist.

“We have a meeting at 2 o'clock with the A.R. group that I need you to join; be done with your lunch early. I don’t like being late." I didn’t need her for the meeting; I just know how it brightens up her face to be included.

Today it didn’t.

“I’m not hungry; just let me know when we have to leave; I’ll be ready.” She’ll be skipping lunch; how’s that possible?

Something’s definitely wrong with her today.

She can eat 6 whole meals a day! She must have a great metabolism to still be this petite considering her eating habits.

The meeting went well; as I said, it wasn’t a very significant one yet it was crucial. Hannah’s mood was the same throughout; the bubbliness of her personality that puts everyone on easy wasn’t there today, and she was courteous and distant.

Something is hurting her; it’s evident by the gleams of sorrow in her eyes and the forced smile she’s maintaining to hide it.

“Let’s get something to eat; we can have a late lunch,” I offered on our way back to the office.

“I’m not feeling hungry, but you feel free to go; I’ll wait till you’re done.” She smiled at me and then went back to looking out of the window.

“Is everything okay?” dropping the idea of a supposed lunch, I asked instead.

“Mhm,” she gave a monotonous answer. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can you drop me home directly? It’s only an hour until the official hours end; of course that is if you don’t need me in office,” she looked at me, her beautiful hazel green orbs silently pleading with me not to ask any questions.

I nodded.

I let it go, but I really wish she’d open up to me; the agony in her words is a direct giveaway of her suffering.

I dropped her home and left to attend the rest of the meetings I had today. I wanted to stay with her, but I can’t reschedule these work commitments since we’re leaving the day after tomorrow.

When I came back to the house after three hours or so, I immediately went to her room to check on her, but she wasn’t there. The house manager informed me that she’s been on a beach for a while now.

I walked out on the beach and saw a silhouette of a girl in a far distance, the setting sun casting its vibrant hues, illuminating her sitting figure in the sand.

I loosened the tie around my neck, and I walked on the sand in my Oxford shoes. I rolled up my sleeves to my elbows and draped my suit jacket neatly around my arm.

“What are you doing outside? It’s getting dark and cold,” I asked, standing over her head.

She didn’t answer, nor did she look up at me. She sat still like before, paying no heed to my presence.

She was facing the opposite side, the beach wind hiding the rest of her face and covering it with her open tresses.

I sat down next to her on the cold, slightly damp sand. I took in the pleasant view as the sun sat down the horizon, leaving a breathtaking shade of orange and purple sky over the glistening blue beach.

“I can tell something is troubling you,” I stated. “I know I might not be the best person for this, but you can share with me... I’m here for you.” I held her hand that was leisurely lying on the sand by her side.

In the moment, it felt like the right thing to do.

That finally made her look at me.

Silent tears were  cascading down her cheeks; her painful eyes looking at me helplessly tugged at my heart. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to. I saw every piece of her shattered self in those tears.

A broken little girl sat stripped of all her defenses and facades, vulnerable and powerless.

“What’s wrong, why are you crying?” My words held the urgency that my heart was feeling as I cradled her cheeks in my hands.

All I had to do was ask, and a dam of reckless cries broke down from within her. My arm immediately engulfed her in an embrace as she cried her heart out in my chest.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” I left comforting kisses on the top of her head while patting her back.

After a while, her hysterical cries seized, and only an occasional sniffing was heard every now and then.

Once she was calm enough, she looked up from my chest and into my eyes, realizing how close we were and the position we were in. She broke our gaze and tried detaching herself, but I held her in place.

Close to my heart.

“Stay,” I patted her hair fondly, and she succumbed to my touch without any objection.

She readjusted herself, and now her back rested against my chest, her face supported under my chin. I intervened with our hands and wrapped them around her for comfort.

Together we gazed at the dark sea, the harmonious sound of waves setting a soothing ambiance. As time passed, her erratic heartbeat became regular, aligning with mine.

“It’s my mom’s death anniversary today,” her voice broke down again, but she didn’t cry.

That one sentence clarified everything for me—her sad eyes, her faded smile, her sitting here alone at this hour.

“I was only seven years old when she died because of a complicated pregnancy, but I remember everything: her angelic face, her beautiful smile, her undivided attention. Even when she was working on her passion, I was always a part of it, always by her side. She made me her design partner when I was only four years old; she had Dad make a whole contract about it for me and had me write my name as my signature. I still have it framed.” She smiled at a distant memory.

“Designing is not only my passion or my work, Elijah; it’s my way of connecting with her.” She looked at me briefly.

“I’m sure she must be really proud of you,” I assured her.

“I know, I know she’s watching over me; she’s my guiding star.” She sighed peacefully. “But it’s not her that I’m grieving today,” the hurt was back in her voice.

What does she mean by that? Who is she talking about?

“The whole day I was waiting for his call or even just a text. As every year I wanted to spend this day with him, that is why I told your dad I didn’t want to go. Every year we go to her grave and spend time with her, just the three of us. Guess what he didn’t call this time, nor did he pick up mine. He left me alone on my own.” Once again, her tears were falling relentlessly.

Who is she talking about? Who is this heartless person to leave her like this? Does he not care about her pain?

I couldn’t help but hate the person she wanted near her today, and that unlucky man wasn’t there.

My heart clenched at the sight of her tears. I hate it when she cries.

“You know the day she died,” she sniffed and uselessly wiped her tears because they never stopped flowing out of her eyes. “I didn't lose my mother only. I lost everything; I lost my brother. I lost my father too,” she brokenly looked at the sea at the mention of her father, a voice of longing taking over her entire being.

“What was left was a man whose face resembled my father, but the person I called dad, who was my hero, was gone. I guess he buried himself with my mom in that coffin; he was never seen after that. I lost my childhood. Every night I would wait for him to come home to me, to take care of me, to hug me, to love me, to tell me everything would be okay, and every night he would come home drunk or he wouldn't come at all. He stopped talking to me as my face reminded him of her. Tell me, is it my fault that I look like her?” Her voice faltered; she looked at me for confirmation; the hurt in her eyes pierced my insides, but I didn’t think she really needed an answer or if she was even seeing me at that moment.

“No, baby, no, it’s not.” I squeezed her hand as I placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

She didn’t react as she usually does to my touch, but how could I blame her? She continued again.

“He stopped talking to me because a 7-year-old me didn't understand the concept of death and would relentlessly ask him when mom would be back from under the earth. After her funeral, I asked Aunt Claudia why we put her in a box. She told me to meet Jesus we have to sleep in a box.

The younger me didn’t understand and took it literally. I was so desperate to meet Mom that I found an old wooden box in the shed and locked myself in it. Hours passed and I stayed in there; it was so suffocating and painful, but I was adamant. It was too small a price to meet her.

Of course, eventually, I lost consciousness. It took them hours of police search to finally find me. I was taken to a hospital, and the first thing I asked when I woke up was, Am I with mom now?” She scoffed at her childishness. “I didn’t meet Mom but became Claustrophic instead.”

“I was such a fool to actually believe that,” she mumbled sarcastically.

She didn’t say anything for a while, and I didn’t have any words to comfort her agony. But even if I don’t have the right words to say, I still want to be here for her.

“I spent all my life wanting to please him,” she started again, “his attention, to somehow make him love me like he did when mom was alive, but I failed. I thought he didn’t love me because he lost his son, so I tried to be that. I wanted him to be proud of me, so I excelled in everything I did just to see some appreciation and some love from him, but it only made me realize that no matter what I do, he hates me regardless so much so that he broke all contact with me. He abandoned me then and abandoned me today once again.

I don’t know if I miss her the most or him. Because I know she can't be here but him; he was never there for me while being here, alive. I know it's wrong, but sometimes I wish he would've died instead of her.

Everything would've been alright if she was here. Dad would've been his same loving self; I would've had the happiest childhood instead of a lonely one. We wouldn't have been here. She would've fixed it all, for me and him. I miss her, Elijah. I miss her so much it hurts. It hurts too much.” Her voice was merely a whisper by now, but her words were loud and clear.

“I know what a loss feels like,” I said as I looked into the void of my own. My hand is unconsciously rubbing her bare shoulder for warmth. I felt her relax in my arms—something that put my own heart at ease.

“I know how it feels when you lose your favorite person to this cruel world. How time doesn’t heal anything no matter how many years have passed. How one can feel their essence around, but deep down you know it’s just your mind fucking with you, tricking you. But even then, despite knowing the truth, all the rational thinking goes down the drain because it feels so real. You want it to be real.” I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize when she turned her face towards me.

“Who have you lost?” Her whisper screamed in my head as I struggled to let her in my most loved and dark phase of life.

“It doesn’t matter; it’s in the past.” My voice became dark and cold as the hauntings of my past started resurfacing.

But before I could know it, within a moment she turned around, encasing my thighs with each of her legs around me. The sudden impact made me retract my hands on my sides to support myself in place and not fall back. She was straddling my lap as I looked at her with visible bewilderment. Her eyes were glistening in the moonlight, her tear-stricken face only inches away from mine.

“It matters... you matter,” her words warmed my insides, her eyes sincerely holding every emotion in their depths, validating something I didn’t know existed.

Her breath fanned my parted lips, intensifying every sensation I was already feeling tenfold.

My heart raced in anticipation; having her near me made me feel all sorts of things. Things that I can’t name, things that don’t have labels. It can only be felt.

Before I knew it, she crashed her lips on mine. Taking full authority, she pulled herself up for a better angle, her hand roaming all over my chest while her other hand held the back of my neck lightly encouraging me to react to her intimate touch of desire.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t move; my mind was so foggy that it was unable to comprehend what was happening.

Is this true?

Is she really kissing me?

It’s the first time that she has taken the lead; she initiated an act of intimacy.

SHE IS KiSSING ME!

She’s not afraid, angry, or hurt, but rather she wants me.

I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling; maybe the speed with which my heart is racing to her moving lips can describe the pleasure of this moment.

Like an idiot, I didn’t realize I wasn’t reciprocating her kiss until she tried to pull away. It finally hit me what was happening, and I came back to my senses. I may have been taken by surprise, but I am no fool to let go of such an opportunity because I was taken off guard.

Without any further ado, before she could retrieve back completely, I held her head in place, rendering her every motion, and smashed my lips on hers, taking full charge. She didn’t back out either.

Both our lips moved with great fervor, sucking at each other like our lives depended on it; maybe they did. I don’t know, I couldn’t tell; all I knew at that moment was how our lips moved in harmony and how I never wanted it to end.

Both my hands made it to each side of her waist, and as if on a whim, she started moving back and forth, creating a fraction between our nether regions, evoking passion and intimacy that were beyond the realms of sexual desires.

We kept at it, neither of us getting tired. I bit her lower lip in the heat of the moment, and a loud moan of pain and pleasure erupted from within her. She arched her back, breaking our lips apart in the process.

But I wasn’t done yet.

We weren’t done yet.

I leaned over her, so now she was no longer straddling me. I carefully let her back hit the cold, grainy sand and got on top of her.

I took her lips once again in mine, not getting enough of them, and she didn’t mind either. My hands held both her hands above her head while my tongue got to its work, exploring every nook and cranny in her mouth. She withered at my touch once again, encouraging me to grind myself on her.

The cries of passion were heard in her muffled voice as she groaned in my mouth for more. Once she was no longer able to breathe, I let go of her tortured and swollen lips and dove deep into her neck.

I kissed everything and anything I had in my sight, and I knew she didn’t mind as she tangled her hand in mine while her other sensually rubbed my back to keep me closer so that even the air couldn’t pass between us.

A gratifying moan escaped her trembling lips as my lips made contact with the sweet spot behind her ear. Seeing the reaction I was getting, I took the opportunity and kept attacking the same spot over and over again until she became a whimpering mess underneath me. Finally letting it go, I looked at the purple blotch on her neck that would be difficult to cover for her in the morning.

I already know how she’ll be angry and flushed all at once. I smiled just thinking about it.

Both our breaths were rugged and out of control.

It wasn’t the only thing in me that was out of control at the moment, and if we didn’t stop now, I’m afraid there would be nothing left to control.

It’s something I need to take care of by myself, at least for now.

As much as I feel the need to have her, I know we’re not ready yet. We’ve just started accepting being around each other. I don’t want to ruin that or complicate things.

And I definitely don’t want to hurt her again.

Seeing how broken and sensitive she actually is, so opposite of what I wanted to believe all along, it’s the last thing I want for her.

She’s not like my one-night stands that I can pay or that those who are physically addicted to my touch only because that’s all they’ll get.

She deserves better than that.

She deserves to be loved.

Unconditionally.

Wholeheartedly.

I was still hovering over her, observing every mole and every line of her face. She never opened her eyes, or perhaps the sensation of making out was too much for her to handle. I caressed her flushed cheek lightly and brushed her sensitive lips and leaned down once again, settling only for a kiss on her forehead this time.

She fluttered her beautiful eyes open, and a hint of disappointment flooded her eyes, her heavy breathing giving heaves to her covered breasts touching my broad chest.

Embarrassingly, she broke our eye contact and tried to look the other way. I stopped her movement with the touch of my hand.

Once I had her attention back on me, I leaned down on her lips and gave her a slow but firm kiss.

I wanted her to know that I didn’t back out because of her and that she had nothing to be disappointed with. I think I did a pretty good job in convincing her because when we finally parted our lips for good, a smile of contentment crept on her face.

“It’s late; we should get inside." It’s a miracle that I was able to speak a full sentence after our steamy session.

She only nodded.

A few seconds passed when she said,

“Umm, Elijah, I can’t move.”  I realized that I was still lying down on her.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Mentally smacking my head, I pinched my eyes and finally got up from her.

The lack of her body near me let the cold air hit me in full force, and I regretted momentarily letting go of her in the first place.

Holding her hand, I helped her to her bare feet, and we walked towards the house.

Our hands aching to touch and hold as both of us struggled but we refrained ourselves.

Fuck, it’s going to be a long, cold shower.

………………………………………………………

Author’s note:

There is no author note since she has passed out from writing one hell of a steamy make-out scene.

A long chapter for being MIA, but I really hope this chapter compensates for that.

Elijah can finally put the pieces of a puzzle, named Hannah, together. He now knows that it was never about money for her.

Hannah opened up about her daddy issues while missing both her parents, and who better than to kiss away her pain than Elijah?

And he really did, metaphorically and literally.

Elijah has yet to unlock the chains around his heart and let Hannah see his scars, but given the circumstances, even that doesn’t seem far behind.

Share your thoughts on chapter 82 and do it wholeheartedly. Leave as many comments as you can.

Write down what gave you butterflies and what got your heart up in a frenzy.

Please vote too, so it creates a greater reach for the story.

P.S. Can you tell I struggle to write smut? Also, do you think I should write the sexual stuff more elaborately to make it a little PG+18, or are the innuendos working fine?

Much love 🥰