Enzo knocks once.
“Send her in,” Elliot calls.
Enzo shoves the door open and pushes me inside.
The study smells like whiskey and polished wood. Shelves line the walls. A decanter and two glasses sit on a side table. The desk in the center of the room is large and solid, edges neat, papers stacked in clean piles.
Elliot sits behind it, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar open.
Sophie’s head moves under the desk. Her shoulders stay visible, her hands braced on his thighs. Her head lifts and lowers in a steady rhythm. She is sucking him off and doesn'teven slow down when I walk in.
Disgust crawls up my spine.
“Brooke,” Elliot says, voice smooth. “Sit.”
He gestures to the chair in front of the desk.
Sophie pulls back and rises from the floor in one quick motion. Her lipstick is smudged. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyesflicking over me once, assessing. Then she moves to the side of the desk, close to him but out of the way.
“I’m here to take you up on your offer.”
Elliot tilts his head, amused. “What offer?”
My throat tightens.
“When we were in the game room,” I force the words out. “When I saw you with Sophie, Knox and Asher on the pool table. I’m here to take you up on that offer.”
A small laugh escapes him. He glances at Sophie, then back at me.
“You said I wouldn’t like the alternative,” I repeat, “and you were right.”
His eyes brighten, pleased. “I need to hear that again.”
“What?”
“That I was right.”
I swallow. My face feels hot. My hand twitches in my lap.
“You were right.”
His smile widens. “What else should you say?”
My stomach turns.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Sorry for what?”
I force myself not to look away. I feel every word scrape through my chest.
“I’m sorry for pointing a gun at you,” I say. “I’m sorry for refusing you. I’m sorry I tried to escape.”
He watches my face the entire time.
“Better,” he smirks. “Now, what are the magic words?”
My nails dig into my palms. I know what he wants.
