The CEO’s Unspoken Love (Eleanor and Derek) novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113

Eleanor POV

The key card shook in my hand as I pulled it from my pocket. Derek was faster, following right behind me, his footstep’s heavy with

determination. When I tried to close the door, he placed his hand firmly against it, preventing me from shutting him out. The polished wood pressed against his palm, the tendons in his wrist standing out as he pushed back against my effort.

“You don’t get to walk away from this conversation,” he said, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable-a tone I’d heard only a handful of times during our marriage, usually late at night when his defenses were down. The sudden change caught me off guard,

like a familiar melody played in a minor key.

I stepped back, letting him enter the room if only to avoid making a scene in the hallway. The daylight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting long shadows across the plush carpet and the king-sized bed that suddenly seemed far too prominent in the room. The distant sound of laughter drifted up from the hot springs below, a jarring reminder of people enjoying their evening while my

world tilted on its axis.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, crossing my arms as if creating a physical barrier between us. “You made your feelings perfectly clear throughout our marriage. Your absence spoke volumes.”

“And you made yours clear too,” he countered, closing the door behind him with a soft click that sounded somehow final. “The way

you look at Alexander-

“I respect Alexander, I interrupted, the memory of his kindness during my darkest moments with Derek a sharp contrast to the man before me now. “And I admire him. But it’s not what you think.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly in that analytical way that reminded me he was, first and foremost, a man who made his fortune by reading people and situations. His fingers tapped against his thigh-once, twice-a nervous habit I’d noticed years ago. “Then what about James? You barely know him, yet you’re here with him, looking at him like he’s your salvation.”

“James respects me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the way my heart was racing. The comparison between the two men was unavoidable-James with his gentle consideration, Derek with his consuming intensity. ‘He doesn’t try to control me or dictate how I should live. He asks what I want instead of assuming he knows better.”

“And I do?” Derek asked, stepping closer, the scent of his cologne growing stronger. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Is that how you

see me? As someone trying to control you?”

“You’re doing it right now!” I gestured between us, the space between our bodies charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with years of unresolved tension. “This interrogation, this… whatever this is. Coming to my room, demanding answers you have no right to ask for.”

His eyes dropped briefly to my lips before returning to meet my gaze, and I hated how my body responded to that simple look-a quickening of breath, a flutter in my stomach that I couldn’t control. It was muscle memory, I told myself. Nothing more.

“I want to know where I stand, Derek said, frustration evident in his voice, in the way his fingers ran through his hair, leaving it

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Chapter 113

slightly disheveled in a way that reminded me of mornings after. “I want to understand what’s happening here. We signed divorce

papers less than a month ago, and now you’re here with another man?”

“That’s none of your business,” I replied, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “You signed those papers as eagerly as I did.

You couldn’t wait to be free of me.”

A flash of something-hurt? anger?-crossed his face before his expression hardened again. “Is that what you think? That I couldn’t

wait to be rid of you?”

“What else was I supposed to think?” My voice cracked slightly, betraying emotions I’d tried to keep buried. “You left for London

before the ink was dry on our marriage certificate. Two years, Derek. You were gone for two years.”

“And whose fault was that?” he asked, his voice dropping dangerously low. ‘You made it perfectly clear from the beginning that our

marriage was nothing but an arrangement to please my grandmother. You never once asked me to stay.”

The accusation hit too close to home. Yes, I had accepted our marriage as temporary, had played my part in the charade, but only because I believed that’s what he wanted. I pushed against his chest, furious that he would turn this around on me after everything “You have no right to blame me for your choices. You chose to leave. You chose to sign those divorce papers.”

Derek caught my wrists, his grip firm but not painful. His palms were warm against my skin, his pulse matching the rapid rhythm of my own. One push is an emotional reaction. This many is bordering on domestic violence,” he said coolly, though his eyes betrayed

his own turmoil-storms gathering in those gray depths.

“Let go of me, I demanded, my voice low and dangerous.

He released one of my wrists but maintained his hold on the other, his thumb unconsciously rubbing circles against my pulse point -a gesture so intimate it made my breath catch. “You never answered my question.”

“What question?” I pulled my wrist from his grasp, turning away to hide the effect he still had on me.

In one swift motion, Derek lifted me off my feet. Before I could process what was happening, he had set me down on the writing desk by the window, his body effectively pinning me in place. His hands planted firmly on either side of me, he leaned in, his face inches from mine. The wood was cool beneath my thighs, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

“Who is it, Eleanor?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. His proximity was overwhelming-the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his breath against my skin. “Who do you really want? Alexander? James?” His voice dropped even lower, something raw and vulnerable breaking through his carefully controlled

facade. Or me?

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R Visitor

if I were Eleanor, I would say, “I want me!”.

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The CEO’s Unspoken Love