His Private Hell - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Eella knew this wasn’t a meeting. This was a warning wrapped in a seduction.
Garrison didn’t sit across the desk like he had last time. He sat beside her. No clipboard between them. No distance. Just the silent roar of the city at his back, and the scent of cedar and heat as he turned his body, his thigh grazing hers like an invitation she hadn’t asked for but couldn’t stop thinking about.
“So,” he said lowly, his voice all smoke and velvet. “Let’s talk about the damage.”
Eella kept her back straight, her jaw tight. “If you mean Ally’s reputation, I’ve already laid out a rebranding strategy. It’s in the file I sent your assistant—”
“I don’t mean the company.”
Her fingers curled in her lap. “Then I’m not sure what you want from me.”
He leaned closer. “Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what you were doing when you walked into my company.”
“I walked in to fix it.”
“You walked in to unravel me.”
The air between them shifted. Electricity. Pull. She hated how fast her body responded to that deep rasp, how her pulse betrayed her with each soft brush of his words.
Eella stood abruptly, putting space between them.
Garrison remained seated, calm as a loaded gun.
She turned her back to him and stared out the floor-to-ceiling window. “You have a God complex. You think everyone moves for your gravity.”
“Only the ones who want to fall.”
His voice was behind her now. Closer. He hadn’t even made a sound, but she could feel him there. Warm. Dominant. Dangerous.
“You don’t scare me,” she whispered.
“You should be terrified.”
And yet she wasn’t. Not really. Not of him. Not of the monster the tabloids loved to paint him as. But of what he did to her resolve. What he did to the parts of her that wanted to be devoured.
He brushed her hair aside and let his fingers ghost the nape of her neck. “I want you to tell me what you really see when you look at me.”
“I see a man who’s used to control.”
“Control is how I survive.”
“You think you’re surviving,” she snapped, turning on him. “But you’re hiding. You hide behind this empire, this myth of untouchable dominance. But you’re bleeding under all that steel.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. But something passed through his eyes. Darker than desire. He reached for her then, gently gripping her wrist.
“No one talks to me like that.”
Eella stared up at him, defiant and breathless. “Then maybe that’s your problem.”
He kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tender. It was all fire and threat. A promise and a punishment. His mouth claimed hers like he’d waited years for this moment, like she was the only thing that could extinguish the inferno raging beneath his skin.
Eella gasped into it, grabbing his shirt, losing herself to the way he pressed her against the window, the city lights flickering around them as he kissed her like a curse.
“Say stop,” he growled against her mouth. “Say it and I’ll walk away.”
But she didn’t. Couldn’t.
And he knew it.
His hands slid down, gripping her hips, pressing her flush against him. She could feel the hard, undeniable proof of his need—raw, urgent, real.
“I shouldn’t want this,” she whispered, voice shaking.
“Neither should I.”
But he lifted her then—effortlessly, one hand under her thigh, the other braced at her back. He carried her to the desk, not the cold corporate one—but the dark walnut table in the corner of his office. The one that didn’t belong to business. The one that looked like it had seen things no HR manual would dare approve.
She didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. She let him lay her out across it like a secret too heavy to carry. Let him kiss down her throat, undo her blouse, worship her skin with the kind of reverence that felt like sin.
He paused only once, hovering over her, breathing hard. “You’re not like the others.”
“I don’t want to be.”
“Then don’t pretend this is nothing.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Because it wasn’t nothing. It was a firestorm. A collision. A scream wrapped in silk.
When he finally claimed her, it was slow and sharp and unbearable. He moved like a man starving, like every thrust was a prayer and a punishment. And she answered him with every gasp, every claw of her nails, every whispered name that broke between them.
“Eella…” he groaned against her ear, gripping her tighter. “You ruin me.”
And she wanted to. God help her, she wanted to ruin him just as much.
The aftermath was silent. Heavy. He didn’t move away. Just hovered over her, his breath unsteady, his eyes searching.
“You’re going to regret this,” she said softly, trying to will strength back into her limbs.
“I regret everything,” he murmured. “Except you.”
He helped her sit up, gently fixing her blouse, though his fingers lingered like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.
Then, as quickly as the storm came, he stepped back.
“You work for me,” he said, voice turning cold again. “This can’t happen again.”
Her mouth parted. “You think that’s up to you?”
A flicker of something crossed his face—fear, maybe. Or worse. Longing.
“I’ll protect you,” he said. “Even from me.”
And he left her there.
⸻
The next morning, Eella was late.
Not because she’d overslept—but because she’d stood in her apartment for twenty minutes debating whether to walk back into that building and pretend everything hadn’t changed.
But it had.
She wore a different suit. Stronger lines. Sharper edges. A declaration of war.
The minute she stepped into Ally’s Inc, she felt it. The shift. Whispers. Glances. As if her body somehow carried the secret. As if every step echoed with he touched me and I let him.
Darcie met her at the elevator. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Good hell, though. Like…expensive sin.”
Eella laughed despite herself. But the sound died when the elevator doors opened and Garrison stood there, alone.
Their eyes locked.
He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. But the tension was a living thing.
Darcie cleared her throat. “I’ll…take the stairs.”
She fled.
Eella stepped in. The doors closed.
Silence.
His jaw ticked.
She stared straight ahead. “You’re going to pretend it didn’t happen?”
“It can’t happen again.”
“But it did.”
His hand twitched at his side. “You make me reckless.”
“And you make me stupid.”
A beat passed.
Then his voice, low and raw: “I dreamed of you last night.”
She turned to him.
“I dreamed of you begging,” he said. “Screaming my name. Telling me you’d never leave.”
Eella swallowed. “Was it a dream or a memory?”
He didn’t answer.
The doors opened.
He stepped out first.
And she let him.
But as she walked behind him, she noticed something no one else did.
His hand—shaking slightly. As if whatever control he clung to so desperately was slipping, thread by thread.
⸻
Later that day, Astrid summoned Eella to a meeting.
Alone.
Astrid didn’t believe in pleasantries. She believed in leverage.
“So,” she began, tapping her crimson nails on the desk. “Sleeping with the boss. Bold strategy.”
Eella stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Oh please. I’ve known Garrison ten years. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. Not even the ones he paid for silence.”
“I didn’t sleep with him to get anything.”
“No,” Astrid said, smile sharp. “You slept with him because you don’t know better. Yet.”
Eella’s fists clenched. “If you have a problem with me, say it.”
Astrid stood, circling her like a wolf. “You think he’ll choose you? That he’ll change? Let me tell you something, darling—Garrison Wolfe doesn’t love. He uses. He consumes. And when he’s done, he leaves nothing but ash.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“You should be afraid of what loving him will turn you into.”
Then Astrid dropped the bomb.
“There’s another woman. From before. One he never talks about. One that burned him so bad, he locked that entire part of himself away.”
Eella blinked. “Who?”
But Astrid was already at the door. “Ask him. If he tells you, maybe he thinks you’re worth something.”
⸻
That night, Eella didn’t sleep.
She sat on her balcony, staring at the skyline, haunted by Astrid’s words. There was something in Garrison. A wound he never spoke of. A locked room inside his soul—and she wanted in.
Even if it destroyed her.
Even if it destroyed him.