Chapter 17-The first fight
1168 Words
*Chapter 17 – The First Fight*
_Elena POV_
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The penthouse felt too quiet at 7:12 AM.
Mason was asleep in the Guest Wing. Lina texted me at 6 AM: _He slept through the night. First time since surgery._
I wanted to take him to breakfast. Real breakfast. Not the soft eggs the kitchen made for “recovery.” I wanted him to sit at the dining table, complain the coffee was weak, argue with me about who was paying.
I found Damian in his office before I even had coffee. Suit already on, tie loosened, reading something on his tablet with that expression he got when he was about to say no.
“Mason wants to come down for breakfast,” I said. No preamble. “With us.”
Damian didn’t look up. “His PT said no stairs until Friday.”
“So I’ll bring breakfast up to him.”
“Not until his vitals are stable for 48 hours.” He finally glanced at me. “Elena, I know you’re excited. He’s not cleared.”
There it was again. _I know what’s best._
The same tone he used the night of our wedding when he told me not to call Mason after 11 PM. The same tone he used when he froze Mason’s hospital bill without asking me.
“Cleared by who?” I asked. “You? Or his doctor?”
“His doctor works for Blackwood Corp.”
“So that’s a yes.”
I left before he could answer.
---
Mason was awake when I got to the Guest Wing. Color in his face. Eyes sharp.
“They want me to start at Blackwood next Monday,” he said the second I walked in. “Rehab program. Paid. Full benefits.”
“That’s good,” I said, and it was. It was everything we’d needed three months ago.
“There’s a catch.” He shifted, testing his weight on the leg. “I report to Damian daily. Progress logs, check-ins, the whole thing. If I miss one, they pull the offer.”
I sat down hard on the edge of his bed. “He didn’t tell me.”
“He said it wasn’t my place.” Mason’s jaw tightened. “Elena, it’s a job. I’m taking it. But… does he own me now too?”
No.
I wanted to say no.
But the words stuck because I wasn’t sure anymore.
“He’s scared,” I said finally. “For you. For me. He thinks if he doesn’t control it, Victoria’s people will.”
“Might be true,” Mason said. “Doesn’t mean I have to like being handled.”
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I found Damian at 1 PM in the boardroom. Alone, going through Q3 projections. He didn’t look surprised to see me.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“After 3. I have a call.”
“No.” I shut the door. “Now.”
He set the tablet down. That was answer enough.
“You’re using Mason,” I said.
His expression didn’t change. “I’m protecting him.”
“By making him report to you like you’re his parole officer? By deciding what he can eat, where he can sit, who he can talk to?”
“By keeping him alive.” His voice dropped. “You think I don’t know what happens if Victoria gets to him first? You think I didn’t see the file on the loan sharks she’s using?”
“So you marry me, and now you get my brother too?” I laughed, and it sounded ugly even to me. “Is that the deal? One Blackwood for the price of two Carters?”
His eyes went cold. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what? Say it out loud?” I stepped closer. “I didn’t marry you to swap one cage for another, Damian. Mason’s not your asset. He’s my brother.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He stood up, and the table between us suddenly felt too small. “Every decision I make is because if I don’t, someone else will hurt him. Hurt you. I watched my brother die because I waited too long to act. I’m not waiting this time.”
“That’s not a reason. That’s trauma.”
The words landed. I saw it in his face.
He went still. “Don’t talk about Adrian.”
“I’m not. I’m talking about you. You don’t trust anyone, so you control everything. And it’s choking us.”
“For once, Elena, I’m trying to keep people safe without losing them.”
“Then try trusting me,” I said. “Trust that I can handle my brother. Trust that I’m not going to run to the press. Trust that I’m not your next liability.”
He didn’t answer.
I waited.
Nothing.
“Fine,” I said. “Enjoy your silence.”
I turned to leave.
He moved before I could reach the door. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just enough to block me.
Close. Too close. His cologne, cedar and sharp clean, hit me before I registered he was there.
“Elena.”
“Move.”
He didn’t.
He was close enough that I could see the cut on his jaw from shaving too fast this morning. Close enough that if I breathed in, I’d get him in my lungs.
I was tired.
Tired of asking. Tired of being managed. Tired of the way my pulse spiked every time he got like this—like I was one wrong word from breaking him.
So I did something stupid.
I reached up and grabbed his tie.
Pulled him down half an inch. Enough that his eyes were level with mine. Enough that the room shrank to just the space between us.
“Stop deciding for me,” I said, low and furious.
His hands came up like he was going to stop me. Then stopped.
Rule 2: _Don’t touch me unless I initiate._
I’d just shattered it.
His throat moved.
“You’re mad,” he said. Not a question.
“You’re damn right I’m mad.”
I let go.
My hand fell back to my side.
I didn’t step back.
For three seconds, neither of us moved. The air between us felt charged, like before a storm.
He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. I’d already broken the rule for both of us.
“Elena—”
“No.” My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. I stepped back before I did something I couldn’t take back. Before the line blurred any further.
I couldn’t breathe in here. Not with him standing that close, not with the way he was looking at me like I’d just set something off he wasn’t sure he could put back together.
I turned and walked out.
Didn’t slam the door. Didn’t need to. The silence behind me was loud enough.
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*End of Chapter 17*
- Writer
