The Villain Duet by Bella J.

Chapter 22

Charlotte

Ipoked at the eggs benedict on my plate, my appetite nonexistent. How could I have been so stupid? There was no need for me to be on the pill since I wasn’t sexually active. That one guy—just one, happened years ago, and it was a one-night wonder that ended in disaster with me being punched in the face with reality. The reality being that your first was not even close to what they portrayed it to be in sloppy love stories. There were no floating lanterns by the ocean, no romance drifting in the perfect summer breeze. There sure as hell were no butterflies and rainbows popping up in the air while you got deflowered with Barry White singing in the background. It was unromantic. Awkward. Painful. And the Earth sure as fuck did not move for me with a guy named John settled between my legs, making it feel like he was tearing me apart from the inside out.

It was terrible. Something I never wanted to experience again—hence the reason I never had the need for birth control…until now.

“I’m starting to think I’m going to have to tie you up and force-feed you.” Elijah slanted a brow.

“Sorry.” Why did I just apologize? “I’m distracted, that’s all.” Distracted by the fact that we were two very irresponsible adults caught up in one giant vortex of the world’s most fucked up situation ever.

I sliced my knife through the poached egg, the soft yolk popping over the English muffin, smearing the plate. Elijah sure was an excellent cook. Everything he made was perfect.

“So, how long do we need to stay here, on the yacht?”

“We’ll stay here until things change.”

“What things?”

He picked up his cup of coffee, settling his lips on the brim as he took a sip. “I know you don’t agree, Charlotte. But I promise you, the less you know, the better. The last thing I want is for you to worry over things you can’t control.”

I frowned. “Things I can’t control?”

He placed his cup down, settling his hand on the table. “I told you, it’s my job to protect you, and I plan to do just that. There is nothing, and I mean nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”

I believed him.

It was there in the color of his eyes, the determination, the truth, the resolve to protect his own—and after the last few days, us sharing the same bed, spending our nights getting high on sensual, erotic, mind-shattering fuckery, I had no choice but to admit that I was his. His to use. His to claim. His to protect.

In a bid to ease Elijah’s need for me to eat, I placed a bite of the egg in my mouth. The hollandaise sauce was perfectly buttery and delicious, the hint of lemon giving it a burst of freshness. “I know I’ve said this before, but you are an excellent cook.”

“I have a great appreciation for food.”

“That’s understandable after…well, what you’ve been through.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between us, but even through the awkward moments there was a constant buzz of energy that had us hyperaware of one another. Even from a distance, a simple glance could set my skin alight, as if his gaze caressed my flesh.

I shifted in my seat, needing to change my train of thought before I became a panting mess at the breakfast table. “Is there any way I could get into contact with my grandfather?”

“Not now. It’s too risky.”

Of course. What was I thinking?

Elijah tapped a finger on the table, pinning me with his stare. “Once all this is over and it’s safe, I’ll take you to him.”

I smiled warmly at the thought of seeing the grandfather I never knew, finding family again after spending years alone. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Charlotte.”

A distant pulsating thump-thump-thump disrupted the calm. Both Elijah and I looked up and out over the ocean at a helicopter approaching from a distance.

“Is that helicopter coming here?”

“I believe so.” Elijah stood and immediately turned to face James, who positioned himself a few feet behind us. “Is it him?”

James merely nodded without saying a word and disappeared off deck, making his way to the back of the yacht to the helipad.

“A little warning would have been appreciated,” Elijah muttered more to himself since James was no longer there. He rolled his shoulders and cocked his head from side to side.

The black helicopter slowed down to a hover, the noise of the rotor blades impossibly loud. We weren’t even near the helipad, and the gust of wind had my hair blowing into my face, and I tried brushing it out of my eyes, clutching the turtleneck jersey tighter to ward off the chilly air. “Who is that?”

Elijah pulled his lips in a thin line before dragging a hand through his now disheveled hair. “A friend.”

“A friend?”

The helicopter landed, and Elijah took my hand as he led me inside, past the bar and down a long hall before we entered a large entertainment area. I hadn’t been on this side of the yacht before, not even aware there was this vast open space that held a twelve-seat dining set, a white corner couch, and a billiard table placed close to a second bar area. It was impossible not to gawk at the lavish surroundings that could easily become the envy of any person not accustomed to this kind of lifestyle.

We reached a black door, and Elijah stilled, turning to face me. “Do not say a word, do you understand me?” His somber expression made my stomach tighten, warning prickling the back of my neck.

“Who is this person? What’s going on?”

“Do you. Understand me?”

His dark gaze burrowed into mine, determination rippling off his shoulders. It scared me, as if a dark storm of foreboding was approaching, threatening to break all around us.

“I understand.” I bit the corner of my mouth, struggling not to bombard him with anxious questions and demanding answers.

He opened the door, the sliver of sunlight breaking through the clouds beaming down. The rotor blades still hadn’t come to a complete stop, the pulsing noise swooshing and slicing the air, creating more wind.

James stood in front of us, waiting as a man dressed in a black suit exited the chopper. With bated breath, I watched the man fasten his suit jacket, not disturbed or fazed by the gusts of wind the rotor blades continued to produce. It was clear to anyone who watched this man walk across the helipad, shoulders squared with a confidence one could spot a mile away, that he fucking owned everything he touched. He exuded sophistication and power even from a distance. He had the same regal and majestic presence Elijah had—the same authority that beamed from his eyes as he regarded us. A six-foot-three powerhouse wrapped in a five-thousand-dollar suit.

James stepped in behind the man as he stopped a few feet away from us, the noise of the rotor blades quietening.

Something felt wrong. The way this man studied Elijah, then slipping his gaze down to me, regarding me no more than two seconds before turning his attention back to Elijah.

Elijah’s grip on my hand tightened. “Marcello Saint Russo, what a surprise.”

I immediately recognized the name.

“You should have told me you planned on paying us a visit. Kind of risky, given our current circumstances, don’t you think?”

Saint shot his cuffs, straightening his suit jacket. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have risked it if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.” His voice was low, his expression hard and unreadable. Intimidating.

Elijah shifted, widening his stance. “Perhaps you can enlighten me, then, since your little unplanned trip has the potential to ruin this entire operation.”

“I’m afraid I had no other choice.” He glanced over his shoulder at James, the gun he pulled from his jacket pocket glinting under the slivers of sunrays. My heart ceased, my pulse racing and palms sweating. Everything turned hazy, fogged, like a dream.

A nightmare.

Elijah stiffened, forcing me farther in behind him, shielding me with his large frame.

“What the fuck is going on here, Saint?”

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe, stone-cold terror slicing up my spine, and I had no idea what was happening.

“Why are you here?”

Saint smirked, eyes dark and gaze filled with malice. “I’m here for the girl.”