Chapter 16 ATHENA
ATHENA
Not surprising. Alec was always around, it made sense. He was Nic’s right hand, his most trusted man, and, infuriatingly, the only one in this place who didn’t make my skin crawl.
I nodded at him, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I flipped my omelet in the pan. Freedom was a relative term here, but ever since Nic stopped locking my door, I’d started to claim small acts of defiance. Like cooking my own breakfast.
“You wake up in a destructive mood today?” Alec teased, sliding into the kitchen like he owned the place. “Got your eyes set on more expensive shit to break?”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
The omelet landed on the plate with a soft hiss, and I carried it over to the counter across from him.
Alec poured himself a coffee, and I heard one of the guards behind me shift—probably reacting to his joke.
They didn’t speak, of course. They never did.
Like shadows clinging to my every move. The only space they hadn’t violated was my room, but everywhere else, they haunted me.
“No, I woke up with a desire to smash your idiot of a boss’s head with something heavy.”
The silence that followed was thick. I half-expected Alec to defend Nic, to throw one of his usual lines about loyalty or ‘not understanding the bigger picture.’ But instead, he laughed. Head thrown back, eyes creasing with real amusement.
“You’re aiming high. I like that.” Then, casually, he turned toward the guards and nodded in my direction. “I’ll take over from here.”
“The boss said—” The older one—Rico, I think, stepped forward. He was the only one that actually gave me chills.
“Nic’s not here,” Alec interrupted smoothly, sipping his coffee like he hadn’t just undermined a direct order. “Which means you answer to me.”
The guards hesitated for a moment, but when none of them challenged him, they left without another word. The door shut behind them, sealing us in the quiet warmth of the kitchen.
“Thank you,” I muttered. Alec just slid another mug toward me, but I pushed it aside. He quirked a brow. “I don’t drink coffee.”
He blinked, clearly affronted. “How do you survive?”
“I don’t rely on a drink to decide my mood for the day.” I shrugged.
“Independent woman.” A grin pulled at his lips.
“Something like that,” I murmured, a small laugh escaping me.
“I like that,” he said, softer now. “You’re driving Nic up the wall. Honestly? I enjoy it more than I should.”
That earned a full laugh from me. Alec could be disarmingly human, sometimes.
So much so that I forgot—momentarily—what side he was on.
We ended up sharing breakfast. I even made him an omelet, against his protests.
It felt good to do something mundane. To talk about nothing important.
For a moment, we were just people sharing food and talking nonsense.
But then I asked the question that had been rotting inside me for days.
“Is my family okay?”
The laughter died immediately. Alec froze mid-bite, and the entire kitchen felt colder. He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking up to mine.
“They’re safe,” he said carefully. “For now.”
The weight in my chest released in an instant, only to be replaced with a heavier dread. For now. My appetite vanished. I dropped the fork, pushing my plate away.
“That’s not right, Alec and you know it.”
“Athena—”
“My family doesn’t deserve to die.” My voice cracked.
He looked away. For once, Alec had nothing to say.
His voice was quiet when it came. “Life isn’t fair.”
I laughed bitterly. “Don’t you dare give me that line. Especially not when your boss is the one making it unfair.”
“Life hasn’t been fair to Nic either.”
“My family shouldn’t have to pay for his pain.” I dug my nails into my palm.
“That’s a conversation you need to have with him, princess,” he said flatly. “I’m just here to do my job.”
Before I could respond, the door burst open. I didn’t need to turn around. I knew who it was. His presence filled the room like smoke—cold, suffocating, inescapable. My body went still, heat rising to my cheeks, shame burning through my skin. I couldn’t look at him.
Not after last night. Not after the way I let him touch me… the way I begged for more. The way I liked it. His voice slid through the air like a knife through silk.
“I don’t remember sending you here to share a romantic breakfast with my prisoner, Alec.”
Ice. His tone was pure, controlled ice. And my body reacted—shivering, curling in on itself without permission.
Alec glanced at me briefly, guilt flickering behind his eyes, but he said nothing.
Just stood and walked toward the door. They exchanged a few sharp words too low for me to catch, and then Alec was gone. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
I felt him before I saw him. Felt the heat of his stare. Felt the ghost of his hands all over me—memories from the night before flaring to life like kindling. His footsteps echoed across the tiled floor, slow and deliberate.
Then he was there—leaning against the counter where Alec had just been, arms crossed over his chest. Today, he wasn’t in a tailored suit. He wore plain grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that clung to the lean muscle of his arms, the fabric stretching across his chest.
“I don’t remember giving you permission to get close to my men,” he said, his voice low and full of something bitter and dark.
“I don’t remember needing your permission.”
His gaze dropped to the empty plate beside him. Disgust twisted his lips.
“You cooked for him?”
“It was just an omelet.”
“Was it?” he sneered. “Or are you training my men like dogs? Trying to turn them against me with your sweet little smiles and homemade breakfast?”
“God, you’re paranoid,” I snapped. “It was just breakfast.’’
His eyes darkened, jaw clenching so hard I could hear the grind of his teeth. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Just stared at that plate like it personally offended him.
Then his voice dropped. “Go change. We’re leaving soon.”
“What?” I stood abruptly, heart skipping. “Where are we going?”
“Linda packed your things. You have ten minutes.”
The door slammed behind him.
—
I don’t know where we are, but I know this: it’s far from home.
The scenery outside the SUV window is unfamiliar—wide open skies, the kind of stillness that makes your bones ache.
It’s the first time I’ve left Nic’s estate since he brought me here.
I’m seated beside him in the back of the car, leather interior stretching between us, but not far enough.
Nic leans back, tugging his black tie loose, exhaling like I’m already exhausting him.
His black suit molds perfectly to his body, crisp and commanding.
He looked better in sweatpants. He looked…
real. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, shamelessly studying the sharp cut of his jaw, the shadowed cheekbones, the way a dark strand of hair brushes across his forehead.
His face is so painfully beautiful, carved with precision, but it’s not the beauty that haunts me, it’s the danger he wears like second skin.
“Where are we going?” I ask, voice dry.
“Somewhere.” His eyes stay closed.
“Why?”
He turns his head, and the full weight of his gaze slams into me.
“Why do you think you have the right to ask questions?”
“Because I deserve to know what’s going to happen to me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Then, more to himself, “Christ, you talk too much.”
“So you can touch me without asking, but I can’t even speak?” I clench my fists in my lap. From the front, the driver coughs—awkward and caught between a war zone. Nic’s eyes narrow.
“I haven’t done anything you didn’t beg for, Athena.” His voice is soft and lethal. “And why wouldn’t I? You’re going to be my wife.”
I laugh. Loud. Bitter.
“You really think I’d marry you? I’d rather die.”
“I don’t remember needing your consent.”
“You won’t get it. Ever.”
“Am I ruining your fairytale, dollface?” he asks, that word like velvet wrapped around a blade. “You were meant to say yes to that little boy you planned your future with?”
My stomach knots.
“Don’t talk like you know anything about me.”
“I do know you, Athena,” he says, darkly amused. “Better than you want me to.”
I turn away from him, arms crossing tightly over my chest. My skin still remembers his touch.
My thighs remember the way they trembled for him.
I should hate him. I do hate him, but my body isn’t listening.
I sealed my lips shut, crossing my arms tightly over my chest and twisting my body away.
I refused to look at that arrogant grin, that insolent gaze burning into me.
I’d ignore him for the entire ride if I had to.
The silence shattered after a long, heavy minute.
“He’s not good enough for you.”
I didn’t meet his eyes, but I could feel his stare slicing into my skin like a blade. My jaw clenched. Part of me wondered if he was right, but I’d never admit it out loud. Mason was everything I knew. Everything I wanted.
“Because you’re such an expert on my life?” I forced out a bitter laugh, still refusing to look at him. I sank back into the seat.
“Even a blind man could see that boy isn’t meant for you,” he spat, emphasizing boy like I was some kind of prize for someone better. Heat flamed in my cheeks. “I can bet my life he didn’t even fuck you right.”
The words hit me like a punch. My breath caught. I was grateful the driver cranked the music up just enough to drown us out — Nic shot him a warning look that spoke volumes.
“I’m not answering that,” I said quietly.
His laugh was cruel, low in my ear. “Because you know I’m right.”
The venom in his voice stirred something dark and wild inside me, something rising and ready to explode. Maybe it was the arrogance. Maybe it was the way he laughed, or just him, but before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.
“No. Because you can’t talk about what never happened, asshole.”
I kept my gaze fixed ahead, but my heart thundered in my chest. I’d just revealed one of my darkest secrets — one he had no right to know.
My cheeks burned, and his eyes bore into me, relentless.
If I looked at him, I’d shatter. Silence slammed down like a weight, thick and suffocating. Haven’t we arrived yet? I needed out.
“Very intriguing.”
His voice was low, dark, almost a growl. Foolishly, I glanced at him and my stomach clenched. His eyes were deep pools of something dangerous, something possessive and hypnotic. He leaned in, closer, the heat of his body pressing through the fabric of my jeans.
“What? That you are wrong again?”
“No, that the idiot’s even more pathetic than I thought,” Nic said, never losing his edge. I said nothing. I wanted the conversation to die, to end there because I didn’t want to talk about the sex I didn’t have with the man who kidnapped me, the only man who ever touched me and made me come.
Until I felt his breath at my neck. His hand slid onto my thigh and my body froze.
I didn’t dare meet his eyes, but in the rear view mirror, I saw us — the fire in my gaze that had no right to be there, the sharp line of his jaw dangerously close to my skin, black hair falling over his face.
That cocky grin, barely hidden behind those dimples.
He didn’t care another man was in the car.
The driver kept his eyes on the road, the music loud, but all I heard was Nic. I should have screamed. Prayed the driver would do something to pull me away from this monster, but no. I stayed trapped in his grip — again, by some twisted choice of my own.
“Tell me, Athena.”
His hand began to dance on my thigh, silver rings glinting as his fingers squeezed my skin. I bit my lip, fighting the moan threatening to escape. His touch moved with deliberate precision. His voice dropped, rough and low in my ear, drowning out the music.
“Am I the first man to ever touch you here?”
I bit down harder, trying to keep control as his hand cupped me through my jeans.
My face remained impassive, but my body was aflame.
The seat hid his movements from the driver, but I felt every inch of him — every tease, every press.
My breath hitched. I stared straight ahead, his breath hot against my throat, lips leaving a trail of fire along my skin.
I hated that I was wet for him — the wrong man. And he knew it.
“Answer me, Athena.” His fingers circled with expert rhythm, and he pressed a careless kiss to my flesh, igniting sparks beneath my skin. “Am I the first?”
He already knew. He just wanted me to say it — to admit that after everything, I let him touch me like this. That I’d fallen under his spell.
I didn’t speak. I only nodded, exposing my shame to the devil himself. My body trembled under his hands, his touch setting a fire that had been smoldering since last night. My face betrayed nothing — but inside, I was unraveling.
“Hmm.”
My belly tightened into a knot as his fingers worked magic against me. I struggled with the madness of it — was I really going to let this happen? In the backseat of his car, while another man drove? I should have pushed him away. But I didn’t want to.
My legs parted instinctively, giving him better access. Small kisses bloomed on my neck. He played me perfectly and I was already too far gone to fight.
“We’ve arrived, boss.”
The spell shattered. The pleasure I’d been chasing slipped away, leaving me raw and aching on the edge.
I caught his calm gaze in the mirror. He looked unfazed, as if he hadn’t just touched me like that.
Nic muttered a frustrated “fuck” under his breath and then his fingers slipped away, leaving a hollow ache.
“So unfortunate,” he whispered against my skin, his grin a wicked promise. “I wanted to see you fall apart from the fingers of the man you despise.”
One last slow kiss, and then he pulled back. His heat vanished. The weight of his body gone, I almost collapsed into the seat, not realizing I’d been leaning on him the whole time.
Nic opened the door, his hand—the same one that moments ago had been inside me—steady as he helped me out. His other hand was shoved in his pocket, his expression unreadable.
I stepped out, legs trembling, soaked jeans clinging to me, my body still throbbing with an unfulfilled hunger. I needed a cold shower. Or maybe just something heavy to knock some sense back into me because every time his hands touched me, I forgot just how sick he was.