Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 25

Elena: POV

The Bentley purred through the dark streets, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows. I sat as far from Julian as the backseat would allow, my arms wrapped around myself, staring out at nothing.

The silence between us was suffocating.

"You've learned to be so obedient," Julian said finally, his voice cutting through the quiet. There was something in his tone—satisfaction, maybe. Or mockery. I couldn't tell anymore.

*Obedient.* The word made my skin crawl.

I wanted to scream at him. Wanted to tell him that I wasn't obedient—I was terrified. Terrified of what he'd do to Ethan if I didn't play along. Terrified of what he'd do to me. Terrified of losing this baby because of the stress he kept putting me through.

But I said nothing. Just kept my eyes fixed on the window, my jaw clenched tight.

"Elena." His voice was softer now. "Look at me."

I didn't move.

"Elena."

Finally, I turned my head, meeting his gaze. His gray eyes were unreadable in the dim light filtering through the windows.

"I said, you've learned to be obedient," he repeated, and this time I heard it clearly—the satisfaction. Like he'd won some kind of battle.

*Fuck you,* I thought viciously. *Fuck you and your goddamn control games.*

But what I said was: "Yes, Julian. Whatever you want."

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to read something in my face. Then he shifted, leaning forward, and his gaze dropped.

Julian's expression changed. Just slightly. A flicker of something I couldn't name.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Your feet."

Before I could respond, he reached out and lifted my legs, pulling them into his lap with surprising gentleness. I stiffened, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

"Don't," he said quietly.

He shrugged off his suit jacket—expensive charcoal wool that probably cost more than my monthly salary—and wrapped it around my feet, covering them completely. The warmth was immediate, shocking after the cold.

I stared at him, my throat tight. What the hell was this?

"I was wrong," he said, his voice low. His hands stayed on the jacket, holding it in place around my feet. "Earlier. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have done that to you."

An apology. From Julian Sterling.

I must be dreaming.

"But," he continued, and there it was—the catch. "You shouldn't have provoked me like that. Talking about other men. About Ethan. You know how I—"

"How you what?" I cut him off, my voice sharp despite myself. "How you lose your mind when another man shows me basic human decency?"

His jaw clenched. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted my foot—still wrapped in his jacket—and pressed his lips to it. The gesture was so unexpected, so intimate, that I froze.

"I can't stand seeing you with someone else," he murmured against the fabric. "I can't fucking stand it, Elena."

My heart hammered in my chest. This felt wrong. All of it felt wrong—the tenderness, the apology, the way he was holding my feet like they were something precious.

*This isn't real,* I told myself. *He'll be cold again tomorrow. He always is.*

I tried to pull my feet back, suddenly uncomfortable with the position. "Julian, this is—"

"Stay still." His hands tightened on my ankles. Not painfully, but firmly.

Then he was moving, pulling me into his lap before I could protest. One arm wrapped around my waist, the other still holding my legs, keeping his jacket tucked around my feet.

"Julian—"

"Shh." His breath was warm against my ear. "Just... don't move. Okay?"

I sat there stiffly, my heart racing, not knowing what to do. His chest was solid against my back, his arms secure around me. It felt like a cage. Or maybe a shelter. I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

The car continued its smooth glide through Manhattan. I could see the doorman's familiar uniform as we pulled up to the mansion on Billionaire's Row.

---

The elevator ride up felt endless.

Julian's arm stayed around my waist the entire time, holding me against him. I stared at the brushed steel doors, watching our distorted reflections, and tried to calm my breathing.

*Just get through this,* I told myself. *Just survive tonight.*

The doors opened to the mansion. Julian guided me inside, his hand on the small of my back.

"You should take a bath," he said as we entered. "Warm up properly."

I nodded, already moving toward the master bathroom. Anything to get away from him, to have a moment alone to think—

"I'll help you."

I stopped. "What?"

"I'll help you," he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "You're still shaking. You need to warm up."

"Julian, I can manage—"

"I know you can." He was already guiding me down the hallway. "But I'm going to help anyway."

*He's not doing this out of kindness,* a bitter voice in my head whispered. *He wants something. He always wants something.*

We reached the master bathroom—all marble and glass, with a tub big enough for three people. Julian moved past me, turning on the taps, adjusting the temperature.

"Julian, really, I don't need—"

"Elena." He turned to face me, and there was something intense in his eyes. Something I couldn't read. "Let me do this. Please."

The "please" threw me off balance. Julian Sterling didn't say please. Not to me. Not about anything.

Before I could form a response, he crossed the distance between us and lifted me onto the marble counter. My legs dangled, the cold stone seeping through my dress.

"What are you—"

His mouth crashed against mine, swallowing my question.

The kiss was different from the brutal ones in the car. This was slower, deeper, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me.

His hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones, and I felt myself starting to respond despite everything.

*No,* I thought desperately, even as my hands moved to his chest. *Don't do this. Don't let him do this again.*

I pushed against him, trying to create space between us. "You just—" My voice came out breathless. "We just did this not long ago—"

"Not enough." His lips moved to my neck, finding the sensitive spot below my ear. "It's never enough with you."

His hands were already working at the zipper of my dress, sliding it down with practiced ease. The cool air hit my skin, making me shiver.