Chapter 5 ATHENA #2
I dropped my phone onto the table beside the pool and stared up at the sky.
The villa was wrapped in silence. I’d had more than two glasses of wine after midnight, and my head was light, blurry around the edges — not quite drunk, but close enough to feel stupid.
I should’ve gone out with them. At least I wouldn’t be sitting here alone, feeling like this.
I have no right to be mad, I told myself. We’re not official. I gave him that freedom. Still, it burned. It burned like hell.
“Will you be back soon? I’m bored.”
I texted him, hating myself the second I hit send.
‘‘Be back by 3.’’
That was it. I could practically feel him brushing blonde hair behind someone else’s ear right now.
I sighed, stood, and walked back into the villa to get what was left of the wine.
My robe clung to my damp skin, tied hastily around my waist. Underneath, I wore nothing but a black bikini swimsuit wet from the midnight swim I’d taken earlier, trying to drown my thoughts.
It hadn’t worked. Music played low in the background as I returned to the pool, bottle in one hand, glass in the other.
And then I dropped the glass. It shattered on the tile, the sound sharp and jarring. My breath caught, because standing by the edge of the pool, barely visible in the shadows, was a man. A man in a black suit. He stepped forward, into the soft pool lights, and my panic twisted into something else.
Him. My stranger.
His expression unreadable, hands tucked into his pockets, suit tailored to perfection. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, silver chain catching the light. The shadows clung to him like he belonged to the dark.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I asked, voice trembling but firm. He smiled, that wicked, soul-deep grin, as if he were the one who belonged here. Not me.
“You didn’t come,” he said, ignoring everything else. His voice low and rich, curling around me like silk and smoke.
“No shit, Sherlock,” I snapped, clinging to the wine bottle like it might defend me. “You broke into my place. That’s illegal. I should call the police.”
He took a step forward, slow and deliberate. “But you won’t.”
I should’ve run. Should’ve gone back inside, slammed the door, and locked it. But I didn’t.
My feet wouldn’t move. My pulse thundered in my ears. My robe suddenly felt too thin, my swimsuit too revealing, and his gaze too much.
“Why didn’t you come, Athena?” he asked, voice rough.
“I didn’t want to,” I lied, crossing my arms, hugging the bottle to my chest like armor.
His smirk deepened, a single eyebrow raising in mock amusement. I swallowed, unable to look away. He was unreadable, dangerous, and yet he made my heart race.
“I think you’re a psycho.”
“And I think you drink too much,” he said, gaze flicking down to the bottle in my hands.
“Even if I do, that’s none of your business. How do you even know where I’m staying?”
He shrugged, casual. “It’s easy to get what you want… if you know where to look.”
That should have scared me. But instead, it made something low in my stomach twist.
“You should leave,” I said weakly, even as he stepped closer.
“I think you don’t want me to.”
“You’re full of yourself.”
“It’s called intuition, dollface,” he said, almost cheerfully. “And I’m rarely wrong.”
I clenched my fists, robe tugged tighter. My body betrayed me, heat flooding my skin as his cologne hit me like a punch.
“Who are you?” I whispered. “Tell me your name.”
He leaned forward slightly, lips twitching as if amused. One hand reached out, and for a second, I thought he was going to touch me, but instead, he took the wine bottle from my hands.
“Drink with me,” he said simply. No question, just a statement. He walked toward the table without looking back, and I followed. God help me, I followed.
“A game,” he said, turning toward me. “Finish your glass before me, I’ll tell you my name, and I’ll leave.”
“And if I lose?”
He sat down, spread across the chair like it was a throne, and he was the devil himself. Rolled up his sleeves slowly. That silver chain peeked through his shirt. His grin widened.
“Then I get a reward.”
I sat across from him, jaw tight. “What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one,” he said, filling both glasses. “Because you won’t lose… right?”
Cocky bastard.
I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. I win, you leave. End of story.”
“Deal, dollface.”
We each picked up our glass. His fingers brushed the rim with a slow precision that made my breath catch. His ring gleamed in the low light. His eyes were locked on mine, full of silent promises I didn’t understand but desperately wanted to.
“At three,” he said. “One… two…”
Now.
I lifted the glass and chugged, fast. The wine scorched my throat, more than half full, but I didn’t stop. I slammed the empty glass on the table with triumph, grinning…
Until I saw his already empty, long before mine. Not even a twitch in his expression.
His lips still glistened with wine. He sat back, the picture of relaxed sin. I stared at him in disbelief.
“You lost,” he murmured, eyes dark and glinting. “Time for my reward.”
I had walked right into his trap, and he never intended to leave.