Chapter 12 ATHENA
ATHENA
A touch has a memory. Sometimes it lingers, sometimes it scars. It depends on who’s touching. Right now, I can’t stand being touched. Not like this. Not by Linda.
Her fingers dig cruelly into my ribs as she yanks the corset of the red dress tighter, squeezing the air from my lungs. My breasts bulge awkwardly against the fabric, and I barely recognize the girl in the mirror. That’s not me.
“I’m not feeling well,” I say quietly, eyes fixed on the reflection. She doesn’t look away from her task. “I’d like to stay in my room.”
My room. More like my prison.
“That’s not an option,” Linda snaps, tightening the last hook with brutal finality. Pain shoots through me, and I groan softly. “A little advice, princess.” She bends to meet my eyes in the mirror, and I can see the venom dripping from her words. “Do as you’re told if you want to survive here.”
Her malice is a weight pressing down on my chest. She despises me — that much is clear. But I don’t understand why, when she doesn’t even know me.
“You’re ready.” She straightens, running her fingers through my hair. “Nic’s waiting.”
I stand and nearly choke on the sight before me.
The girl staring back in the mirror is a stranger.
The red dress is too short, too revealing, exposing more than I want anyone to see.
My pale skin is drowned beneath heavy, dark makeup, my lips a painted crimson that feels like a mask.
The corset squeezes my waist cruelly, pushing my cleavage forward in a way that makes me sick.
High heels click on the floor, completing the look I never asked for.
I look cheap. If my father saw me like this, he’d have a heart attack.
Nic chose this dress. Linda told me so, flinging it onto my bed two hours ago, storming into my room like she owned it. It’s obvious — this man wants to humiliate me. To break me and I have no choice but to endure it.
I follow Linda down the cavernous halls of this mansion. My heels echo, a mocking rhythm to the stares of the guards posted every few feet. Their eyes leer like I’m nothing but prey, and one of them even winks at me. I shudder.
Finally, Linda stops at a massive wooden door, nodding sharply. She opens it, and I step inside, the door slamming shut behind me like the closing of a coffin.
The dining room is cold and lifeless, draped in shadows and silence. A massive table dominates the room, with at least seven seats on either side. At the head sits Nic.
He’s dressed in his usual black three-piece suit.
His jet-black hair is tousled in that reckless way that somehow suits the harsh angles of his face.
An expensive silver watch glints on his wrist, catching the dim light as he props his head on his hand, body relaxed like a king on his throne.
The table before him is piled with enough food for two, but it feels like a grotesque display, a taunt.
I take the only place with a plate in front of it — directly opposite him.
It’s ridiculous, but the distance between us is the only comfort I have.
His eyes rake over me shamelessly, his lips curling into a frown as if disgusted by what he sees.
Not that I care. My gaze lands on the feast before me, but all I feel is nausea.
“Do you feed all your prisoners like this?” I ask, eyeing the glass of red wine. I hate red wine. “Doesn’t seem like your style.”
His eyes flick up to meet mine. “And you seem to enjoy judging people you know nothing about, Athena.”
“I don’t need to know you to see you’re a jerk.”
His lips twitch — not quite a smile, more like a sneer. The kind that promises trouble. When he stays silent, I push on.
“I want to eat in my room.” He arches an eyebrow, amused. “I don’t think I can eat and look at your face at the same time.”
“You didn’t complain when you were close enough to kiss it.”
My cheeks burned — a reckless mix of shame and irritation.
Mostly because my mind refused to stay in the present and dragged me back to that night before everything fell apart.
The night I was on his lap, lost in the most overwhelming pleasure I’d ever known, his dirty whispers dripping with promises and degradation in my ear.
“Ah, come on, Athena. Don’t go shy on me now.” His voice sliced through the silence, low and teasing. His lips curled into a smirk that sent shivers down my spine. Why?
“My lap feels lonely. Care to warm it up again?”
His gaze was an open invitation — the way he scratched his beard, eyes dark with hunger, made swallowing and even breathing feel impossible. The room suddenly felt too small, suffocating under the weight of him.
“Is that why you picked this dress? To parade me around like your personal whore?” I masked the tremble in my voice the best I could.
He tapped the rim of his wine glass, licking his lips slowly, and I hated that I followed the movement. “I admit, the dress wasn’t my best choice.” His voice was rough but measured as he nodded at me. “But I wouldn’t mind the other part.”
I laughed, sharp and bitter. Of course he wouldn’t.
“In your dreams.”
My dreams are darker than this, dollface. Want me to show you?”
“The only way you touch me again is if you kill me.”
“Could be arranged.”
His face didn’t flinch, didn’t even twitch with indignation. He drank from his glass — though I knew he didn’t even like wine. What sick game was he playing? Was it all a lie? Was everything he ever told me a lie?
“Then let’s end this already.” I challenged him.
His chuckle is low, cruel. “Not yet. I’m enjoying this.”
“What did my family do to you? Why do you hate us so much?” My hands curl in my lap.
His eyes flashed with something darker than rage or hatred — something so deep it sent chills crawling down my spine. A lot of people hated my family, sure. But no one was crazy enough to cross us. Especially not my father, yet Nic didn’t seem to care.
“Stole from me,” he said sharply, slicing his steak with slow, deliberate grace.
“Stole what? Money?” The words sounded absurd even as I said them. My family had more money than I could ever imagine spending in a lifetime.
He paused, then said quietly, “A life.”
I freeze.
“I think you’re mistaken.”
“I make no mistakes, dollface.” His jaw clenched, the sharp angles of his face more defined. “Have you heard the names Theo Stone or Freya Grayson?”
I frowned. Neither rang a bell. He must have seen the confusion because he nodded.
“Just as I thought.” He downed his wine, grimacing. “You idolize your father, but you don’t know half the ugly things he’s done.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came. Rumors floated around him, all nasty and sordid. I chose to ignore them.
“Who are these people?” I finally whispered.
“One was important to my family. The other… to me.”
“You’re a Stone?”
“Not by choice.”
A spark of recognition flickered in my mind. I’d heard the name before — Garrett Stone. My father had mentioned it in passing. Our families despised each other, kept to separate territories.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted. “How are these people connected to my family?”
“For someone who claims to be smart, you’re slow at connecting the dots, dollface.”
I gasped, stunned as he poured whiskey now.
“Are you accusing my father of murder?”
His laugh was cold, cruel.
“Accusing? Your father has taken more lives than you could count.”
“Liar.” Heat rose inside me.
“I don’t lie.” He leans forward, eyes burning into mine. “And you, Athena, are the only thing that bastard values. Taking you is taking everything from him. He rarely shows empathy, but for you? He’d die without hesitation.”
By the time he finished, my throat was tight. He spoke of killing my father with no emotion, like talking about the weather.
“That won’t happen,” I said, voice trembling.
He laughed again, straightening his tie like my misery was entertainment.
“Did you know all his businesses are under your and your brother’s names?” he asks smoothly. “He hides behind you, builds his empire on you. The whole world bows to him, but he doesn’t have a dime in his name.”
It sounded impossible. How did he get this information? My father would’ve told me, or Ace at least.
“Why are you telling me this?” I narrowed my eyes. His smirk deepened, infuriatingly smug.
“Because his legacy ends with you and your brother. And once I erase your family from this world, everything that was your father’s will be mine.”
He pushed his hair back, the scar across his eye sharp and cruel in the dim light.
“Right now, I can’t access anything that belongs to The Kings. His voice drops, soft and lethal. “But when I make you my wife, I will.”