Epilogue
Four months later…
I stepped out of the shower and pulled on a clean shirt.
Evening light slanted through the windows, turning the white walls gold.
Three months in Dionysus’ old mansion and I still wasn't used to the quiet.
No gunfire. No screaming. Just the distant sound of waves and the occasional car horn from the street below.
This was home now.
I'd spent the afternoon going through contract offers in the upstairs sitting room. There’d been four that looked interesting, but I'd turned down three of them. It was nice to have veto power for a change. Sleeping with the boss had its perks.
I walked down the stairs, trailing my hand along the iron railing.
The house had good bones with its high ceilings, arched doorways, and hardwood floors.
Rafael had stripped out most of Dionysus's decorations within the first week. We’d sold the garish gold fixtures and expensive art at a charity auction.
Now the walls were bare except for a few things we'd chosen together.
The kitchen smelled like the coffee I'd brewed two hours ago. Rafael's mug sat on the counter, still half full and probably cold. He'd promised he'd be done working by seven.
It was almost nine.
I smiled and shook my head. Of course he was still in the office.
Rafael approached his new role as Director the same way he'd approached everything else in his life: total commitment bordering on obsession.
He'd been managing territory disputes, renegotiating supply contracts, and restructuring the entire South American network to eliminate anything involving exploitation.
The man had given himself an impossible job and then proceeded to excel at it anyway.
Stubborn bastard.
I crossed the living room and stopped at the office door.
It was cracked open, light spilling into the hallway.
Through the gap I could see Rafael hunched over the desk, his reading glasses perched on his nose, the eyepatch stark black against his skin.
Papers covered every available surface. His left hand held a pen while his right hand rubbed at his temple.
He looked exhausted.
And sexy as hell.
I pushed the door open.
Rafael's head snapped up. His good eye focused on me, and his shoulders dropped slightly. “Oh, hi.”
"Hi yourself." I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms. "You said seven."
"It’s not seven yet, is it?" He turned to frown at the clock on the wall. “Fuck, sorry. I got distracted by this territory dispute in Manaus. I'm trying to find a solution that doesn't end in bloodshed. If I can convince them to split the port access, then maybe…"
I walked into the room and circled around behind his chair, hands settling on his shoulders.
"You're not going to solve it tonight." I pressed my thumbs into the worst of the knotted muscle, and Rafael made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.
"You need sleep. Food. A break from staring at spreadsheets. "
"Lorenzo—"
"Not negotiable, Director Oliveira." I dug my fingers in harder, and he melted back into the chair. "You've been at this for twelve hours straight. Whatever brilliant solution you're looking for isn't going to appear just because you skip another meal."
He made a noise like he was going to argue. Classic Rafael. He never surrendered, not even when it was smart.
I bent down to put my lips against his ear. “You want five more minutes?” My breath stirred dark hair, sweat and salt and his cologne. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. But you’re not getting anything done.”
He barely got out a grunt before I slid down, hands braced on his thighs. The chair creaked. I unbuckled his belt slowly, knuckles grazing his cock through soft fabric.
“Lorenzo,” he groaned, fingers digging into the armrests.
I liked hearing him say my name like that.
I mouthed him through the expensive slacks, a pair I’d bout for him, using my teeth more than I needed to.
Rafael tasted like sweat, salt, and power barely held together by self-imposed discipline.
His cock twitched against my cheek, and his hands clawed the chair.
There was a rattling sound as his knee hit the desk.
"You keep this up, I’m going to fire you," he gritted out.
"Yeah," I said, mouthing the crown through the fabric. "I'd like to see you try."
He cursed in Portuguese.
Then I got him loose, cock hot and heavy in my palms, flushed dark already.
I licked up the shaft, slow, careful, letting spit drip down until he was so wet even my hands slid.
His hips twitched, the chair creaking under the strain.
I wanted to see how long he could stay quiet.
Rafael bit back every noise until my tongue hit just under the head.
That’s where he broke, grunting, knuckles bone white on the armrests.
I sucked him slowly, methodically, watching him grit his jaw against the sounds he didn’t want to make. I smirked and squeezed tighter, flicking my tongue just under the head, and got another desperate noise out of him—a choked-off gasp, almost a plea.
The air in the office was thick and humid with the scent of him. He gripped his pen tighter, but his hand was shaking so badly it tore the page. I fucking loved that. I still couldn't believe a man like Rafael could be unmade by something as simple as my mouth on him.
His hips jerked, chair banging the rug against the hardwood. He threaded his fingers through my hair, yanking just hard enough to make my eyes water. “If you finish me before I finish this memo, I swear to God I’ll put a hit out on your favorite bakery.”
I laughed around his cock, mouth full and slick, pressure building inside both of us. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I took him deeper until spit slid down my chin and his thighs trembled under my hands.
Rafael clawed at my hair, yanking me up so fast the world spun. His mouth crashed onto mine, the kiss hungry and desperate. He manhandled me around until I was face down on the desk.
"You little brat," Rafael snarled, tearing open my belt.
“You love it,” I accused.
Rafael’s answer was a snort before he shoved my pants down past my ankles.
Cold air hit my ass and thighs, the surface cool beneath my cheek. Rafael’s breath came hot and furious behind me, close enough for his stubble to scrape my shoulder.
"You want to test me?" He gripped my neck and held me in place. "After you mouth off to your boss, you’re lucky this is all you get."
He lined his cock up with my entrance and shoved in hard.
Fuck, the stretch hurt. It should have been too much too fast, but I wanted it. I wanted every sharp edge, every savage thrust. My cock pressed into the paperwork on his desk, leaking everywhere, ruining everything. Good.
Rafael fucked me like he was angry, like he owned me.
Because he did.
The desk rattled. Every thrust shoved me deeper into the hardwood, vibrating my spine. And God, the sounds he made as he fucked me… Growls. The broken gasps when I pushed back on him, taking him deeper. He bent over me, teeth snapping at the curve of my neck.
Teeth closed on the side of my throat, bright pain flaring under skin gone slick with sweat. I choked out a noise, desperate and half-feral, and came so fucking hard I blacked out for a second. When my eyes focused again, I was shaking all over, dead weight under him.
Rafael didn’t stop. If anything, he went harder, hips brutal, teeth locked on my neck like he wanted to mark me deep enough it would never fade.
There was a wet, guttural sound behind me, and then his cock jerked inside.
He drove in to the hilt and fucking owned me, right there on top of the ruined desk.
He stayed buried for a second, breathing like he’d just run a marathon.
Then he kissed the bite mark gently and pulled out. I groaned at the feeling of his cum dripping out of me. Rafael’s hand slid between my legs, smearing it around my oversensitive hole until I hissed.
“Hard to believe you were ever a priest,” I muttered, cum drunk, against the desk’s surface.
Rafael gave my ass a sharp swat. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
We made our way to the bathroom attached to the office. Rafael turned on the shower and tested the temperature before guiding me under the spray. Warm water cascaded over my shoulders, washing away sweat and cum and the last of the tension I'd been carrying.
Rafael stepped in behind me, his chest against my back. His hands moved over my skin, washing me carefully. When his fingers traced over the bite mark on my neck, he paused.
"Too rough?" he asked quietly.
"Perfect." I turned my head to look at him. "You know I like it when you lose control."
His mouth quirked. "I'm beginning to realize that."
We stood under the water for a while, just breathing together. This was the part I still hadn't gotten used to. The after. The quiet moments where Rafael touched me like I was something precious instead of just a convenient outlet for his frustration. Four months and I still wasn't used to it.
My phone buzzed from somewhere in the office.
"Ignore it," Rafael murmured against my shoulder.
"Could be important."
"It's not."
But the phone buzzed again. And again. Someone was persistent.
Rafael sighed. "Fine. Go check."
I grabbed a towel and padded back into the office, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood. My phone was still in my jeans pocket, tangled up with my belt on the floor. I fished it out and checked the screen.
Diego had sent three messages. The first two were just question marks. The third was a photo.
I opened it and couldn't help grinning.
Eight was covered head to toe in mud, her hair plastered to her skull, her clothes completely ruined. She was holding a massive bullfrog in both hands, beaming at the camera with pure joy. Behind her, I could just make out Diego's aunt Florica's garden in Seattle.
Diego
She insisted on catching it herself. Jasper is having a crisis about tetanus shots.
I was still smiling when Rafael emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist, hair dripping.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
I showed him the photo, and his expression softened immediately. "She looks happy."
"Yeah." I scrolled through the other photos Diego had sent over the past few weeks. Eight helping Florica in the garden. Eight threatening him with a fork. Eight asleep on the couch gripping a pair of fabric shears.
My phone buzzed again.
Diego
We're leaving for Europe next week.
Lorenzo
You sure about this?
Diego
We need to disappear for a while. Keep Eight safe.
My jaw clenched. Rafael leaned over my shoulder, reading the messages. His hand came to rest on my hip.
"They're right," he said quietly. "Constantine's last words weren't just threats. Zeus will retaliate eventually."
"I know." I turned to face him. "We need to keep watching them. All of them. Diego, Jasper, Luka, Vincent. Anyone who helped us. If Zeus makes a move—"
"We'll be ready." Rafael kissed the top of my head. "I've been building contingencies. Safe houses in six countries. Emergency extraction protocols. The moment we get wind of anything, we move."
"Good."
He kissed my forehead. "They're family. We protect family."
I leaned into him, breathing in the clean scent of soap and Rafael's skin. Outside, the waves crashed against Copacabana beach. Inside, we stood together in the ruins of his office, still damp, still tangled up in each other.
My phone buzzed one more time. I glanced at the screen.
Diego
Take care of yourselves. And watch your six.
Lorenzo
Always.
Then, I turned the phone off and tossed it onto the desk.
Rafael raised an eyebrow. "That's not like you."
"Zeus can wait until tomorrow." I looked up at him. "Right now, I'm more interested in dinner. And maybe round two in an actual bed instead of on top of port access negotiations."
Rafael laughed. Actually laughed, head thrown back, the sound echoing off the ceiling. When he looked at me again, his good eye was bright.
He smiled and took my face in his hands, kissing me hard. For a minute, I thought he was going to go straight for round two. Instead, he broke apart and said, “I could go for some pasta. You?”
I smirked. “As long as we get tiramisu after. Oh, and some espresso!”
“It’s nine pm.”
I shrugged. “It’s never too late for espresso.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I have a standing reservation at Cipriani, but you’ll have to wear a tie.”
“The things I do for love,” I mused and practically skipped out of the office in search of a tie.
This wasn't a happy ending. Happy endings were for people who didn't have blood on their hands and bodies in their wake. This was us. Messy and violent and probably doomed the moment Zeus decided to make good on Constantine's promise.
But I'd killed Dionysus. Rafael had killed Constantine. We'd walked out of the labyrinth alive when we should have died a dozen times over.
If Zeus wanted us dead, he'd have to work for it.
And in the meantime, we were going to be happy as hell.