Chapter 13
13
T wo weeks later
The days slipped by in an uneasy rhythm. Aurelia continued to sleep in her own bedroom, her choice a quiet but firm act of defiance that gnawed at Michalis. Yet during the daylight hours, something about her had shifted—her sharp edges softened, her words no longer brimming with hostility. He caught glimpses of a woman who almost seemed to enjoy his company, though she still refused to admit it outright. That restraint—her refusal to give in completely—stoked his frustration like a slow-burning fire.
The storm that had been brewing all day was now a tempest, rain lashing against the windows and wind howling through the estate’s long corridors. Michalis felt a tension he couldn’t shake, a primal worry that drove him toward the security hub. His thoughts lingered on Aurelia as he strode through the quiet halls, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t fully articulate. By the time he reached the monitors, the unease in his chest had solidified into a need to see her for himself.
The security camera monitor caught Michalis’s attention as it switched into night vision mode. His eyes narrowed as he watched the subtle movements of Aurelia in her room. He knew she wasn’t aware of the cameras—knew she didn’t realize he had the ability to watch her whenever he chose. They were there for security before she arrived, and he wasn’t going to remove them just to protect her privacy.
Tonight, he was watching closely, his protective instincts having steadily risen to the fore as the storm worsened with every passing hour, the wind howling against the mansion's walls. She’d been fidgeting all evening, her nerves stretched tighter and tighter as the evening progressed, pacing back and forth, wringing her hands. He shouldn’t care, he told himself. It was just a storm, and she wasn’t a child who needed comforting. She would be fine. She was finally in her bed, attempting to go to sleep, her body slowly relaxing despite the storm raging outside.
He was about to turn the monitor off when her hand slowly moved, slipping under the thin blanket that covered her. He could see the movement under the blanket as her fingers trailed slowly down. At first, he thought she was just shifting, trying to get comfortable. But then she moved again, her hand sinking a little lower, and his pulse quickened.
She wiggled beneath the sheet for a moment, then tossed a pair of panties across the room.
Michalis sat forward, every muscle tensing, a hot rush of blood pooling low as he realized what was about to happen. If he was a better man, he would turn the camera off and give her the privacy she deserved. He snorted. Fuck that. He never claimed to be a good man, or even a decent one.
He zoomed in, tracking her every movement, then switched on the audio just in time to hear Aurelia’s breath hitch as she shifted, the blanket moving slightly to reveal the curve of her body. Her lips parted as she whispered something, but it was too faint for him to catch. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to hear her—he could see the outline of her knees, tenting the blanket. He watched, blood pounding in his veins, as her knees slowly opened wider, sinking almost to the mattress.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. He was no fool. He knew exactly what was happening. She was starting to touch herself—not in a quick, distracted way, but with deliberate slowness. His eyes darkened as he watched her, unable to tear himself away. Her breathing deepened, and the soft sound of her sighs carried through the silence as she picked up the tempo.
Lost in the act, her body was responding to whatever fantasy she was having. And with every breath she took, every movement of her hand, his body reacted, tightening to the point of pain.
She began making noises, a small sigh, a moan, a soft cry–quickly stifled–as if she was afraid a louder noise would draw someone to the door.
Her breaths became more ragged, and without conscious thought, his own breathing picked up, syncing with hers, his entire being completely immersed in what she was doing, nearly as affected as she.
His hand tightened around the edge of the desk as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. There was something so raw and intimate about watching her. Her body was beautiful, vulnerable and open, with no artifice; she hid nothing. There was no pretense, no anger, no holding back.
Another soft cry escaped her lips.
"Michalis…"
His name on her lips hit him like a physical blow. He jerked back, stunned, his mind running wild with the implications. The truth struck him like a bolt of lightning. She’s put me in her fantasy.
“Yes…” She moaned again.
He sucked a breath in and held it, watching in fascination as her body arched, on the brink of orgasm. Her lips parted as she whispered his name again, more fervently. Under the blanket, her hand moved faster against her clit. Then she added the other hand, or at least it seemed that way, as she shifted her position slightly. He imagined she was using one hand to work her clit, while sinking her fingers from the other hand deep in her core. He broke out into a sweat, his body painfully hard.
It didn’t take long before her hips were rocking in time to her ministrations, his name a mantra on her lips. He nearly came just listening to her, and the knowledge that she was imagining him servicing her was the most powerful aphrodisiac he’d ever experienced. Her pleasure was so intense, every second of it fed his hunger. He let go of the breath he’d been holding only to drag another jagged breath back in. Fuck, he wanted to be inside her head right now more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
What exactly are you imagining, princess? Am I taking you slow and gentle or am I pounding deep, hard and fast? What am I doing to you that’s making you come undone like this? What’s making your body tremble, every breath you take ragged with anticipation? You claim you hate me, fight me, say you don’t want me, yet I’m the man you’ve chosen to star in this fantasy. Is that the key? Do you like fighting with me, having your choices taken away? Does it free you? Does it take away your guilt when you surrender? Do you need me to make you submit?
You belong to me, wife, and in your fantasies, you don’t fight it.
You want my possession.
You need it.
Crave it.
His gaze never wavered as he watched her. Every movement, every breath, he studied it all. Her hand moved faster..
“Michalis…make me…oh god…oh god…yeeess!”
He couldn’t help himself, his thoughts spiraled as she gave in––climaxing––while calling his name.
He rubbed a hand over the scruff on his face. She could deny it all she wanted; he knew the truth now. Aurelia’s deepest, darkest fantasies were about him. ‘Michalis. Make me. Oh god. Yes.’ Those were the words that made her come, or the actions associated with them, anyway .
He leaned back, forcing himself to maintain control. His hand fisted at his side as his body burned with frustration. She wanted him, but she refused to come to him, refused to move into the master suite. He’d begun to think she felt nothing for him. Now he knew the truth.
His gaze didn’t leave her until she was finished, and had settled into a restless sleep, curled into a ball, her features softening with exhaustion. The flicker of lightning outside painted fleeting patterns across her face, but she didn’t stir. The corner of his mouth twitched—a rare, fleeting smile. Even in her defiance, she looked peaceful. Vulnerable.
The storm outside was worsening, its fury rattling the estate’s heavy windows and casting fleeting shadows across the polished floors.
The next boom of thunder, deep and resonant, seemed to vibrate through the walls. Michalis noticed the slight shift in her form, a faint tightening of her shoulders. She wouldn’t admit it, but he would bet she was afraid of storms. His protective instincts, buried under years of callous control, surged to the surface.
She didn’t belong there, in that cold guestroom that was too far from him. Not when she could be warm and safe in their bed, where she belonged.
With a decisive motion, he stood, straightening his tailored shirt. With one last glance at the screen, he clicked it off, his body tingling with anticipation. Aurelia had unknowingly surrendered a piece of herself to him, and he wouldn’t stop until he had the rest.
His footsteps were soundless as he made his way through the darkened corridors of the estate, the storm’s cacophony muffled by the thick walls. When he reached her door, he paused for a moment. The handle turned smoothly under his touch—he’d ensured the locks wouldn’t keep him out.
The room was dark, illuminating her form with every flash of lightning. She was tangled in the blanket, her breathing slow and steady, though the faint lines on her brow betrayed the tension she carried even in sleep.
Michalis approached her with care, crouching to gently untangle the blanket wrapped around her legs. He slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her with the ease of a man used to bearing a heavy load. She was light in his arms, her head naturally falling against his chest, the silky strands of her hair brushing his jaw.
As he carried her through the halls, the storm seemed to rage harder, the howling wind and sharp cracks of thunder emphasizing the contrast of the quiet, intimate moment between them. His footsteps were deliberate, measured, as if any sound might wake her.
In the master suite, he eased her onto the expansive bed, the plush covers swallowing her slight form. She murmured something unintelligible as he adjusted the blanket over her, her fingers briefly clutching at the edge before relaxing again. He stood back, his eyes lingering on her face, softened in sleep. A faint smile touched her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort his presence brought—even in slumber.
Michalis slipped off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the bed, then shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it over a nearby chair. Clad in just his slacks, he slid onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much. The mattress dipped under his weight, and for a moment, he held still, watching her.
Then it happened.
As if drawn by instinct, Aurelia shifted closer, her body curling into his side. Her hand rested lightly on his chest, and he froze, a rare warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t possession that gripped him this time—it was something quieter, deeper. Contentment.
For the first time in years, Michalis felt truly at ease.
His arm slid around her, pulling her closer. The storm outside howled, but in that moment, he couldn’t hear it. All he knew was the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body nestled against his, and the sense of rightness that filled the room.
As sleep pulled him under, his last thought was a promise, unspoken but absolute: You’re mine, now and forever.