Page 201 of The Contract

“I am so fucking sorry.” His voice catches, and my eyes finally snap open, my breath locking in my throat. “And I love you, Elena.”

He’s wrecked.

His strong frame, usually so unyielding, looks like it’s barely holding together. Like he’s barely keeping himself from falling apart completely.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding.

“And if I have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, I fucking will.”

The air feels too thick, too heavy, pressing in on me from all sides.

I need to get out of here.

I need to breathe.

“Just take the bakery, Elena.” His voice is gentle, but there’s a raw urgency beneath it. “It’s yours. No strings. No expectations.”

My stomach clenches, a lump forming in my throat.

“You never have to see me again,” he continues, forcing the words out like they’re physically hurting him. “I’ll walk out that door, and if that’s what you want—if that’s what you need—I won’t come back.”

My breath catches, my fingers trembling at my sides.

“But if you give me one more chance,” he says, his voice aching, pleading, “if you let me prove to you that I will never leave you again—I swear to God, Elena, I will fight for you.”

A sob lodges in my throat, my vision blurring.

“I will be there, every single day. Every moment. I will believe in you. I will stand beside you. I will be everything you need me to be.”

He swallows hard, his voice hoarse. “Just don’t shut me out.”

Everything inside me trembles, the world tilting, my control shattering into a thousand fucking pieces.

I’ve spent my whole life surviving.

Building walls.

Keeping people at a distance because when you let them in, they always leave.

But Damien is standing here, giving me a choice.

He’s offering me everything.

His love. His loyalty. His promise.

And I don’t know if I have it in me to walk away.

The space between us feels like a loaded gun.

My chest rises and falls in shallow, unsteady breaths, my body vibrating with the effort to keep standing, to hold on to the last fraying strands of my resolve.

Damien sees it.

Of course he does.

He’s always been able to read me, to know what I’m thinking before I even say it. He knows I’m standing on the edge, that one more push will send me falling.

But he’s not rushing me.

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