His Private Hell - Chapter 46: Chapter 46

The Fire Beneath
The 33rd floor was colder than she remembered.
Even with Garrison’s heat pressed against her back, even with the taste of his mouth still lingering on her lips from their elevator kiss—it was cold. Sharp. Like the silence before something detonated. The sterile lighting above cast everything in harsh, surgical lines. Unforgiving.
It was the first time he’d brought her up here without blindfolds. Without barking an order to wait by the door. Without locking her out entirely.
Eella stepped forward cautiously, her heels muffled on the thick charcoal carpet, eyes raking over the familiar unfamiliarity. A sleek desk stood centered in the vast, glass-wrapped room. A wall of monitors blinked alive to her left. To the right, a long glass table still bore the faint imprint of palms… her own, she realized. And in the far corner—the door.
The door.
It wasn’t locked now.
“You’re letting me in?” she asked softly, pulse trembling in her throat.
“I told you,” Garrison said from behind, his voice low. “No more lies.”
She turned.
He was watching her like a man on the edge. Tie loose. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar. A red line from her teeth still streaked his throat. That line thrilled her. So did the darkness in his eyes.
But this… this wasn’t just sex anymore.
“What happened in there?” she whispered. “What happened with Darcie?”
Garrison didn’t answer.
Instead, he crossed the room and pushed open the door.
It creaked on its hinges. A sound out of place in such a pristine, modern building. She followed him in and stopped dead.
It wasn’t an office.
It was a room swallowed in shadows. Walls lined with black velvet. A leather chaise in the center. Hooks bolted into the ceiling. A table of silver instruments gleaming with unsettling precision.
She’d seen hints before. Glimpses.
But this wasn’t a kink. It was a shrine to obsession.
“She wanted it,” he said, his voice hollow now. “Too much.”
Eella’s breath shuddered.
“Darcie…?”
“She begged to be ruined,” he continued, walking slowly toward the table. “But she didn’t understand. No one does. Not until it’s too late.”
“Tell me everything,” she said, stepping into the room, defying the tremor in her knees.
Garrison turned to her, eyes glinting with something dark.
“You really want to know?” he asked, voice now smooth like poison. “Even if it changes how you look at me?”
“I’m already changed,” she whispered.
He smiled, slow and unkind.
“She came here every Friday. For months. Obsessed. Addicted. She thought submitting meant control. But this—” he gestured to the room “—was never about that. It’s about truth. Who you are when you strip away everything. Your job. Your name. Your shame.”
“And what did you find when you stripped her?” Eella asked. Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.
“Fear. Rage. Jealousy.”
He stepped closer.
“You want to know what broke her? It wasn’t the pain. It wasn’t the games. It was me not loving her back.”
The words struck her like a slap.
“I don’t make promises, Eella. Not to her. Not to you.”
“I don’t want promises,” she said hoarsely. “I want truth.”
He reached for her.
And when his hands touched her skin, it wasn’t rough—it was reverent.
“You’re not her,” he murmured.
“No. I’m worse,” she whispered back. “Because I see everything. And I’m still here.”
That snapped something in him.
His mouth crashed into hers. Not sweet. Not slow. Like a man unraveling. She yanked at his belt, his hands already tearing at her blouse. Silk hissed as it hit the floor. Her skirt followed. She was naked before she could breathe, pressed to the velvet wall, his hands bruising her hips as he lifted her.
Her legs locked around his waist.
His mouth was at her throat. His hand between her thighs.
“No lace today,” he growled. “You were wet for me all through that meeting, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “I thought of this. Of being here.”
He grinned against her throat. “Good girl.”
He didn’t fuck her gently.
He drove into her like he was exorcising demons. One arm braced beneath her ass, the other gripping the back of her neck as he buried himself deeper. Each thrust slammed her into the wall. She bit into his shoulder, barely muffling the scream.
But she didn’t care. Let the building hear. Let the ghosts of this room wake up.
She belonged here now.
He bent her over the table next, her cheek pressed to cool glass, her hands splayed wide. Fingers tangled in her hair. He yanked her head back.
“Look at yourself,” he commanded.
She opened her eyes.
In the mirrored surface, she saw herself—flushed, wild-eyed, marked. And him. Towering behind her like sin incarnate. His jaw clenched. His eyes black.
“You’re not afraid of this,” he said, panting.
“No,” she breathed. “I want more.”
“Then take it.”
He drove into her again, and this time, it wasn’t just lust—it was surrender. Her body broke for him. Her climax slammed into her like a hurricane, ripping through her with vicious clarity.
And he didn’t stop.
When he finished, it was with a growl against her ear. His release hot inside her. His hands still tight on her hips like he couldn’t let go.
They stood there panting.
Ruined.
Alive.
When he pulled back, he looked at her differently.
Not with guilt.
But awe.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said quietly.
“I am now.”
He reached for her again—but the chime of the security alarm interrupted them.
Garrison froze.
“Someone’s in the building,” he said.
Eella scrambled for her clothes. He was already dressed, straightening his collar, slipping back into Garrison Wolfe, CEO.
He handed her a file from the black cabinet.
“Hold this. Walk beside me. No one questions my assistant with paperwork.”
“Who would break into Ally’s Inc?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
But when they stepped into the elevator, he keyed in a security override she hadn’t seen before.
“Where are we going?”
“To see who’s playing with fire.”
The elevator stopped on the 22nd floor—one reserved for board meetings. They walked out into a chaos of blinking monitors and flashing alerts.
A man stood by the security console.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Garrison said.
The man turned.
Ronnie.
Darcie’s ex.
Eella stiffened.
“I told you,” Ronnie said to Garrison, ignoring her. “I told you I’d make you pay.”
Before Garrison could react, Ronnie pulled something from his coat.
Not a gun. A flash drive.
He plugged it into the console.
“What are you doing?” Eella asked.
“I’m exposing him,” Ronnie said. “The world deserves to know what really happened to her.”
Garrison lunged.
But too late.
The screens filled with footage. Clips from the 33rd floor. Darcie. Garrison. Her moaning. Pleading. Submitting.
Eella couldn’t breathe.
“No,” Garrison muttered. “That footage was locked.”
Ronnie turned to her.
“He broke her,” he spat. “Just like he’ll break you.”
Eella stared at the screen.
Darcie, on her knees. Darcie sobbing. Darcie saying—I love you.
And Garrison turning away.
She couldn’t look.
“Get out,” Garrison barked.
Ronnie smiled. “The board has access now. Your reign is over.”
He turned and walked out.
Garrison slammed a fist into the wall, cracking the panel.
Eella stepped back.
“Is it true?” she whispered. “Did you leave her—after she gave you everything?”
“She wasn’t supposed to fall in love,” he growled.
“But she did.”
His jaw ticked.
“And now she’s dead.”
Eella didn’t mean to say it. But it hung there. Like a curse.
Garrison turned, eyes wild.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t look at me like I killed her.”
“I don’t know what to think,” she said, backing toward the door.
“Eella—”
“I need space.”
She ran.
Down the hall. Into the elevator. Her heart in her throat.
The spell was broken.
The fire was still burning—but now it had a body count.
And as she stepped into the street, cold air hitting her flushed skin, she realized something terrifying:
She wasn’t afraid of Garrison Wolfe.
She was afraid of herself.
Because even now—after everything—she still wanted him.
Even in .