Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 34

Elena: POV

I thought about the baby. About how Julian had said I didn't deserve to carry his child. About how he'd made it clear that he never wanted me pregnant.

But now he was asking me to stay. Saying he didn't want a divorce.

*Maybe... maybe if I tell him about the baby, he'll—*

*No.*

The thought died immediately. Because I knew—deep in my bones—that telling him about the pregnancy right now would be a disaster. He'd think I did it on purpose. That I was trying to trap him.

And even if he believed it was an accident, what then? Would he want me to get rid of it? Would he look at me with even more disgust?

*I can't risk it. Not yet.*

So instead, I'd wait. Would try to make him care about me first—really care—before dropping that bomb.

*For the baby. I'm doing this for the baby.*

The lie tasted bitter even in my own head.

"Elena?" Julian's hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Where did you go?"

"Nowhere." I tried to smile. Failed. "I'm right here."

His eyes searched mine for a moment, a flash of guilt and regret crossing his face, then he lifted me up without warning.

"Julian—" I gasped, automatically wrapping my legs around his waist. "What are you—"

"Taking you to bed." His voice was firm. Final. "Where I can take care of you properly."

Those words sent another pang through my chest. Because that's all this was, wasn't it? Him taking care of his obligation. Making sure his wife was satisfied so she wouldn't leave him before the contract ended.

*But he said he doesn't want to divorce...*

God, I didn't know what to think anymore. Didn't know what to believe.

He laid me on the bed gently—so gently it made my throat tight—then crawled over me. His weight pressed me into the mattress, solid and warm and achingly familiar.

"Are you feeling better?" His hand slid down my body, fingers trailing over my stomach.

I tensed instinctively—*the baby, oh God, he can't find out—*but he kept moving lower, stopping at my waistband.

"Your body, I mean," he clarified, his voice softer. "After... everything that happened earlier."

He meant the hospital. Morrison. The drugs.

*And you choosing Victoria over me. Again.*

I nodded. "I'm okay."

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn't quite believe me, but he didn't push.

Instead, his hand moved back up to cup my face.

"I need you to know something." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "What happened with Morrison—that's never going to happen again. I'm going to make sure of it."

"By destroying him?" I asked quietly.

"By doing whatever it takes." His voice went cold. Hard. "No one touches what's mine."

*What's mine.*

His words made it sound like I was a possession—something to protect simply because it belonged to him.

But even knowing that, even understanding exactly what I was to him, I couldn't stop the warmth that spread through my chest.

*He wants to protect me. That has to mean something, right?*

"Julian..." I lifted my hand to his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "If you really don't want a divorce, then... then we need to talk. About everything. About Victoria and—"

"I'll keep her away from you." The words came out quickly. Almost desperately. "I promise. From now on, I'll make sure she doesn't—"

"That's not enough." I cut him off gently. "You can't just keep us in separate rooms and expect that to fix everything. You have to *choose*, Julian. You can't have both of us."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment I thought he'd pull away. Get angry. Tell me I was being unreasonable.

But instead, he just stared at me with this agonized expression—like I was asking him to cut off a limb.

The familiar despair started creeping back in, cold and suffocating.

But then Julian leaned down and kissed me. Soft this time. Almost tender.

"Give me time," he whispered against my lips. "Please, Elena. Just... give me a little more time to figure this out."

*Time.*

It was such a small thing to ask for. And yet it felt impossibly huge.

Because how much more time did I have? How long before my body started showing? Before he figured out I was pregnant and everything exploded?

*Three months, maybe. Four if I'm lucky and stay thin.*

Could I make him fall in love with me in three months?

The question was almost laughable. I had known him for 24 years, and it hadn't been enough. What made me think a few more months would change anything?

But then his hand slid up my ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of my breast, and I felt my resolve crumbling.

*Just a little longer. I can hold on just a little longer.*

"Okay," I whispered.

His whole body relaxed against mine, like I'd just lifted some enormous weight off his shoulders.

"Okay," he echoed. Then, quieter: "Thank you."

For what? For agreeing to stay in this impossible situation? For not demanding more than he could give?

I didn't ask. Just let him kiss me again—deeper this time, hungrier—while his hands started mapping my body like he was trying to memorize every curve.

His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, down my neck, pausing to suck hard on the pulse point. I gasped, my hands fisting in his hair, and felt him smile against my skin.

"I love how responsive you are," he murmured. "How you can't hide what you're feeling."

*If only that were true. If only you could see what I'm really feeling.*

But I didn't say it. Just arched into his touch as his hands found my breasts again, kneading gently before his thumbs brushed over my nipples.

The sensation made me whimper—they were still sensitive from before, still aching from his mouth—and Julian's eyes darkened with satisfaction.

"Still hurt?" he asked, voice rough.

"Yes," I admitted breathlessly.

"Good." He pinched one nipple lightly, just enough to make me gasp. "I want you to feel me everywhere. Want you to wake up tomorrow and remember exactly who you belong to."

My face went burning red; how the hell could he say that stuff so self-righteously?

His hand slid lower, fingers hooking into my waistband again. This time, he didn't stop. Just pulled my pants down slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine.

Then I was bare except for my panties—thin silk that did nothing to hide how wet I was getting.

Julian's gaze dropped, and I watched his jaw clench as he took in the damp fabric.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're already soaking."

My face burned. "Julian—"

"Don't be embarrassed." His fingers traced the edge of my panties, making me shiver. "I love knowing how much you want this. Want me."

*I've always wanted you. That's the whole problem.*

But I didn't say it. Just bit my lip as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, finding me slick and ready.

"Jesus, Elena." His voice was strained. "You're going to kill me."