Chapter 5 Don’t act cheap with me.

Elena's POV

I thought driving my knee into his crotch would be enough to bring this bastard down, but he caught my leg effortlessly with one hand before I could make contact. I didn't even touch him.

His left hand was still braced against the floor beside me, and now my right leg was lifted, my knee pressed firmly against his abs.

Inappropriate timing aside, the man was clearly in shape.

"Looks like you're mad at someone else and taking it out on me." He leaned down, his laugh low in my ear. "The spa worked wonders—you can kick your legs now."

His breath tickled my ear, making me shiver.

"Let go of me! Pervert!"

Maybe it was embarrassment fueling my anger, but I shouted louder than I meant to.

The man instantly released me and stepped back.

Losing my balance while standing on one foot sent me pitching forward.

Instinctively, I grabbed his shirt.

"HA. Fast learner," came his amused voice from above, more irritating than my neighbor's lawnmower at dawn. "Who's the real pervert here?"

Given another chance, I'd rather break my leg than grab this bastard's shirt.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let go, bracing myself for the intimate meeting between my face and the floor.

But the expected fall never came.

When I opened my eyes, I was being carried in one of his arms like a child, perched on his forearm.

The humiliating position made me squirm—but the sharp movement tugged the injury on my shoulder.

I gasped in pain.

"Don't shift." His palm tapped my rear lightly and on purpose. "Save the scolding till your shoulder heals. I don't wanna haul you off to the ER again."

I stiffened at once.

Did he just spank me like a child?

Before I could process what happened, he lifted me up and carried me to my car.

"This is your car, isn't it?"

He opened the door and set me down in the driver's seat.

Then he propped one hand on top of the car and handed me a gold-trimmed black business card.

"Ma'am, even though you're not exactly polite," his gaze dropped meaningfully to the leg I'd tried to kick him with, "next time you want a massage, make an appointment. Even if you're not big on phone calls."

I picked up the card—black stock embossed with gold lettering.

Something about it tugged at my memory, familiar in a way I couldn't quite place.

Where had I seen this before?

Before I could pin down the thought, my phone buzzed with an incoming call.

I answered to hear my assistant's frantic voice on the other end.

"Elena, you need to get to the office now. The opposing counsel just sent over revised terms and they're trying to push through a signing by end of day. We need you here."

I didn't have time to think about the card anymore.

My body still felt weak, the aftermath of last night's events lingering in my muscles, but I forced myself to push through it.

I tossed the card aside and slid into the driver's seat, my hands gripping the wheel as I started the engine.

Half an hour at full speed and I was pulling up to the company, only to catch my reflection in the lobby glass—still wearing last night's club outfit.

I needed a wardrobe change first.

In my office changing room, I examined myself in the full-length mirror.

The tailored suit and pencil skirt looked sharp, my hair pulled back into a neat bun.

But the marks on my neck were still visible.

I grabbed a silk scarf and tied it around my throat before finally settling at my desk, satisfied.

The stack of files in front of me looked like a small mountain.

I'd been working through these all week and somehow there were still more left.

I took a sip of the coffee an intern had brought in and started reviewing the labyrinthine tax clauses in the acquisition agreement.

This was my battlefield, and I was ready.

When I reached the payment terms section, I frowned and dialed the lead attorney handling the case.

"Tell opposing counsel that if they keep playing games with this clause, we'll file for an injunction Monday morning at nine sharp. I don't care whose connections he's using. I'm taking this case and I'm winning it."

After getting confirmation, I hung up.

The door swung open without a knock.

Julian stumbled in.

His face was swollen, lip split and bleeding, and around his neck was a clear red mark, like something rough and leather had been pulled tight against his skin.

What made my stomach turn wasn't just that—it was the smell.

Not his usual cologne, but the distinctive odor of a pet store, that particular mix of animal musk and the sickly-sweet scent of organic dog food.

I looked at him.

What game was he playing now?

Was this part of whatever sick routine he had with Sabrina?

"I'm sorry."

He stood in front of my desk and blurted it out.

I had no idea what he was apologizing for until he glanced back over his shoulder.

Following his gaze, I caught sight of a figure leaving.

Of course.

My irritation spiked.

I picked up a file and tapped it sharply against the desk.

"Done? Then get out."

The bastard suddenly leaned over and snatched the file from my hands, sneering.

"Giving me the silent treatment? Mad at me?"

I grabbed the contract back.

"Get out. This is my office. Don't interfere with my work."

Julian dropped onto the leather sofa across from me, crossing his legs and propping his feet on my desk, kicking half my contracts to the floor.

"Work? You're just going through the motions. The company's mine. Keep me happy and I'll make you partner directly."

Julian right now, sprawled there like that, disgusted me more than watching him crawl on all fours.

I slammed both hands on the desk and stood, my palm connecting hard with his face.

"Going through the motions? Four years of undergrad plus three years of law school—seven years of my life—and you say I'm going through the motions? Get the fuck out of my office. If you're bored, go find Sabrina. Don't bring your pathetic shit in here."

"Jesus, Elena, it's not that serious. I'm doing this for you. Everything I do is for your sake."

Julian stood, his voice shaking with anger.

"You know the only reason you're still alive is because Sabrina, right? Being with her, keeping her happy—it's all for you."

There it was again.

Why did everyone in this world think I owed Sabrina something?

Julian moved closer, trying to put his arm around my shoulders.

I sidestepped smoothly.

"Come on, babe. You know she's just a game. You're the real deal. You're my fiancée. Your parents would never let you call off our engagement, would they?"

I leaned back, putting more distance between us.

I couldn't stand another second of that sweet dog food smell on his breath.

I looked at him steadily, this so-called fiancé of mine, my sister's lover.

That mark around his neck glowed red under the cold office lights like some kind of shameful tattoo.

And he actually believed all of this was "for my own good"?

"If your idea of doing me a favor is sleeping with my sister and being her pathetic pet dog, licking her shoes and God knows what else, then you should get your head examined."

Julian's hand came down hard on the desk with a thunderous slam, coffee spilling everywhere.

"Don't be so unappreciative. Remember who got you the job as Chief Legal Counsel."

He took a deep breath, like he'd just delivered some profound sermon, then walked to the door.

His hand on the handle, he looked back at me one last time, his expression full of contempt and that particular arrogance that comes from thinking you're being generous.

The door slammed shut.

My phone erupted with a sharp, insistent ring.