Page 72 of Just Business
Hell, he had his own place—that he never slept in on weekends. A job—where Eli worked. Eli had gone to CMU. Had the same advisor. Was best friends with Sam and Michael.
There was no leaving Eli.
Not after the dinners and the clothing and the gifts. All to buy Justin. To keep him.
Bile rose to Justin’s throat, along with a whimper. Not again. He could not do this again. “Saturn.”
Eli sucked in a breath. “Justin?”
“Saturn.” He yanked at the bindings, twisting his wrists. “Did you hear me? Saturn!”
“Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. Hang on.” A scramble of movement and cold metal met Justin’s leg right before the rope fell away, ripping and rending suddenly.
Shears. Eli had shears. “Get me off this thing.”
A pained cry, but not from him. Eli snipped the rope on the other leg. Eli brushed Justin’s wrist. “I don’t want to cut you.”
Justin forced himself to stop fighting the ropes, but it was hard. The second one hand was free, he started working on the rope around the other wrist. “Fuck.”
“Wait!” Eli’s eyes were huge, his face the color of bone. “Just let me—” A flash of silver, the sound of shears, and Justin was free.
He pushed Eli away. “Don’t touch me!”
The sheers hit the floor, clattering against the wood. The open horror carved into Eli, the way his hands shook as he held them up and backed away... tore into Justin. It didn’t mater that Eli wasn’t Francis. Not anymore. This was over.
“I can’t do this. I need to go.”
His clothes were somewhere in the bedroom. The hardwood floor of the hallway cooled his bare feet and creaked against his weight.
“What happened? I don’t... Please wait!” Eli’s voice cracked. Anguish? No, no. Just a Dom suddenly losing what he thought was his.
Eli is not Francis.Only he might as well have been. “We’re done.”
When the scent of lavender engulfed Justin, his vision blurred and throat tightened. Why that scent? He’d have to avoid it now. And good coffee—though neither would be hard. He didn’t have the money for fine things. Wouldn’t have any money soon, once Sam heard of this.
He found his jeans and the rest of his clothes scatted underneath the suit Eli had bought him. He kicked it out of the way and pulled his clothes on. Backpack would be by the door. Justin turned—
Eli stood in the doorway. Gaunt and drawn, sweat beaded at his forehead. Everything about his stance, his expression, was at odds with the leather pants and gloves he wore—a scared man in the clothes of a Dom.
Don’t do this.He had to. Too late to stop. Too late to explain. “Get the fuck out of my way.”
The fury in his voice pushed Eli back as if he’d been slapped.
Wide eyes, and such sadness.
Justin rushed past and ran down the stairs. Eli couldn’t follow with his leg, not fast at any rate. Justin scooped up his backpack and helmet and threw the lock on the door.
“What did I do wrong?” That cracked voice followed him down the stairs. “Justin, please! I’m sorry. Just tell me—”
He opened the door and hurried out, slamming it behind him. He had only a bit of time before Eli made it down. It took a second to unlock his bike and another to get it off the porch. He had another bike lock at home, so he left this one tangled around the railing. When tires met concrete, he was on the bike and pedaling as fast as he could down Wightman.
Gone.
Free. He’d made it.
He’d had to sneak out in the middle of the night with Francis. Eli had let him go.
The ramming of his heart wasn’t due to the bike ride. This is what he’d wanted. He couldn’t date another rich Dom who took over his life.
