Return to Grace Street Excerpt

Return to Grace Street by Ella DominguezThe photo is of Leo Rico. (I do not own the rights to this photo.) He's been my inspiration for Victor since day one.
Excerpt
Victor’s muscular body leaned back into the vinyl as his index finger made lazy circles on the tabletop, and Elsa was suddenly hit with déjà vu. While his hard gaze sent her a silent message, she felt the same damned attraction for him she felt over a year ago. What the hell was wrong with her? He had hurt her beyond repair and yet, she was still captivated by him. Disgusted and angry, too, but… fascinated. He was still harboring his secrets and despite having forced herself to move past him and the damage he had inflicted on her, those untold secrets haunted her more than ever.
"You hardly know Nathan and you're marrying him. It’s obvious, at least to me, that you’re settling for someone your heart doesn’t have an investment in.”
Investment. There it was again. That dreaded word that flooded her with unwanted memories of their time together. Her brown eyes narrowed down to slits. He had a helluva lot of nerve making a statement like that.
"Why don't you direct those keen observation skills onto yourself and get your own shit together before you tell me how to live my life, Mr. Black," she emphasized his preferred title.
With staid calmness, his sparkling irises focused on her mouth. "I know you think what I did to you was harsh, and I'll admit that many of my methods were severe, but you can't deny that what I put you through didn’t make you stronger."
Elsa’s mouth parted in horror. The fucking nerve. "Harsh?” she hissed. “You were more than that and you damn well know it. You didn't make me stronger; you made me bitter and afraid to love again,” she whispered contemptuously as she leaned across the table, ready to lunge at him and slap his perfectly chiseled jawline.
Some indecipherable emotion flashed across his face. Regret? Shame? Hurt? No… Elsa reminded herself that it was more likely satisfaction that he was feeling having put her through everything he did.
"You fell in love easily enough with Nathan. So much so that you're willing to take his name,” he casually pointed out.
Gathering her wits, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "I care deeply for Nathan, but what I feel for him isn't love. I doubt I'll ever be able to l feel that emotion again."
His left brow shot up. "Then I was right. You are settling.”
"No, I'm accepting; accepting that this is as good as it’s ever going to get for me."
"You deserve better."
"You're in no position to determine what’s best for me." It was as if no time had passed between them and this conversation was just as pointless as all the rest had been. Why did he show up anyway? To remind her what a failure she was? How stupid she had been to trust him? She did enough of that herself. Irritated, she stood to leave but felt his warm fingers wrap around her wrist, halting her.
"Sit."
God, his touch… so controlling… so devastating. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her from his growled command but she forbade it. She closed her eyes, hoping this was all just an awful hallucination and prayed that when she opened her eyes, he would be gone. This couldn't be happening. Not again. What little shards were left of her heart couldn’t withstand Mr. Black’s wrath.
Snatching her wrist away, she moved out of his reach. "This is all a little too familiar only this time I know the outcome."
"Elsa... Please." The gritty, desperate quality of Victor’s voice and his eyes, the color of moss, pleaded with her, sending her brain spiraling.
Quickly his face emptied of all emotion with only his stone cold mask staring back at her. With his composure back in check, the heat of anger darkened his eyes to ebony and his voice deepened and changed. Mr. Black was back. Unconsciously she cringed as she recalled the sting of leather on her back. He had scarred her, not only physically, but mentally. Mr. Black’s actions of that last horrible day with him would be forever emblazoned on the skin over her shoulder blades and seared into her psyche.
“If you don’t say yes, I can and will make you play.”
Copyright Ella Dominguez, 2014This excerpt cannot be distributed in any form without strict written permission


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