Chapter 7

The diamond necklace lay on the cold marble, sparkling like shattered glass.

Elam stared at it. The vein in his temple throbbed wildly. The last thread of his sanity snapped.

He lifted his custom leather shoe. Without a second of hesitation, he brought his heel down directly onto the necklace.

He ground his heel into the marble.

The sickening sound of diamonds and delicate platinum cracking echoed through the silent hall.

Jocelyn's heart seized. The tears spilled over her eyelashes.

"Stop!" she screamed. She threw herself forward, grabbing his arm, trying to push his leg away. "Stop it! It's a gift!"

Those words were a death sentence.

Elam grabbed the collar of her white dress. He hoisted her up, pulling her entirely off her feet.

Jocelyn gasped, choking as the fabric dug into her neck. She looked into his eyes. They were bloodshot, feral, and completely unhinged.

Elam dragged her across the hall. He marched toward a dark, unused storage room at the back of the first floor.

Jocelyn kicked and thrashed. She clawed at his iron grip, her fingernails scratching his knuckles, but he didn't even flinch. He dragged her like a ragdoll.

He kicked the storage room door open, threw her inside, and slammed the door shut.

Click. He locked it.

The room was pitch black, save for a sliver of light bleeding under the door. The air smelled of dust and old wood.

Jocelyn crashed into a pile of cardboard boxes. The rough cardboard scraped the skin off her elbows. She scrambled backward, pressing herself into the darkest corner.

Elam yanked his tie loose. His heavy, ragged breathing filled the tiny space. He stalked toward her in the dark.

He grabbed her ankle and dragged her across the dusty floor back to him. His other hand shot out and gripped her jaw, forcing her face up.

"Did you forget what you are?" Elam hissed, his voice vibrating with pure malice. "You take gifts from other men behind my back?"

"It's my birthday!" Jocelyn sobbed, the tears streaming down her face and wetting his fingers. "Why can't I just have one day?"

The word birthday punched Elam in the gut. He had nearly killed himself working to get back for this day, and she was crying over another man's trash.

The jealousy and the exhaustion consumed him.

Elam let out a low growl. He dropped to his knees, leaned down, and crushed his mouth against hers.

It wasn't a kiss. It was an assault. It tasted of blood and violence.

Jocelyn's mind went blank. A wave of absolute terror and humiliation crashed over her. She balled her fists and hammered them against his broad shoulders.

Elam grabbed both of her wrists in one hand. He pinned them hard against the dusty floorboards above her head. He pressed his heavy body down, trapping her completely.

His tongue forced her teeth apart. He ravaged her mouth, swallowing her screams and stealing her oxygen.

Jocelyn couldn't breathe. Her lungs burned. Hot, physiological tears poured from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and mixing between their lips. It tasted like salt and despair.

She stopped fighting.

Her body went entirely limp. Her muscles turned to stone. She stared blankly at the dark ceiling, her eyes dead and empty.

Elam felt her surrender. It wasn't submission; it was a corpse.

The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. The red haze of jealousy cleared, leaving behind a sharp, terrifying panic.

He tore his mouth away.

He looked down at her swollen, bleeding lips and her dead, hollow eyes. His chest tightened painfully.

Elam released her wrists as if they were burning coals. He stood up fast, stumbling backward a step. His chest heaved.

He couldn't look at her.

"You brought this on yourself," Elam said. His voice was cold, but it shook.

He turned, grabbed the doorknob, and ripped the door open. He walked out and strode toward the stairs, practically fleeing the scene of his own crime.

The storage room door stayed open. The hallway light spilled over Jocelyn's pale face.

She curled into a fetal position in the dust. She wrapped her arms around her knees and shivered violently.

She raised the back of her hand and scrubbed her lips. She scrubbed until the skin broke and bled. The silent, agonizing sobs tore through her chest, echoing in the cold, empty room.