Nicholas laid Ella down gently on the soft mattress, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her flushed face. She was drunk—too drunk to stand on her own. Her eyes were glassy, lids half-drooping, but there was something vulnerable in the way she clung to him, her fingers curling around his wrist as if letting go would break her.
His heart twisted in a way he didn't expect.
He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't care this much.
But he did.
He always had.
Nicholas exhaled slowly, forcing himself to release her hand. He started to step back—ready to give her space, to leave before he did something stupid.
But her grip tightened.
"Don't…" Ella's voice was small, barely above a whisper.
Nicholas froze.
Her glassy blue eyes blinked up at him, her pupils wide and unfocused. She licked her lips like she was gathering the courage to speak again.
"Tell me honestly…" Her voice wavered, breaking on the last word. "What do you want from me?"
Nicholas's chest squeezed painfully.
