CHAPTER 10

SAOIRSE.

“That's why you don't go around poking your nose whenever you feel like it, Saoirse.” 

I let out a heavy sigh, shut my eyes close and bit my lips as hard as I could. I wanted to smack the hell out of myself to get some sense. 

If I could just disappear and let the ground eat me alive, I’ll do it, just so I can be saved from the embarrassment and humiliation I've put myself into.

Damn it. I couldn't sleep properly for the past night since that night. My mind continues to wander off, I wasn’t functioning well, can’t even form a single thought as if I was a robot only driven to finish chores.

Not after what I'd seen in that secret room, for what I did. The images my mind makes are killing me, haunting me even in my sleep.

It was his lair, no doubt, a place where he indulged his dark fantasies. My mind replayed it endlessly, twisting my stomach into knots of revulsion and a sick, unwelcome curiosity. 

“Stop thinking about it, Saoirse. Come on, pull yourself together!”

Hours ticked by, the clock mocking me with its relentless march, my body restless under the sheets, skin prickling with unease. Sleep? It was a distant dream, stolen by my own ragged breaths.

Finally, I gave up. Throwing off the covers, I slipped out of bed, the cool floorboards biting at my bare feet. 

Maybe a glass of milk would soothe the storm inside me, dull the edges of this insomnia. Or water, something simple, mundane, to ground me in reality. 

I padded downstairs in my nightshirt. The mansion felt alive tonight, its walls pulsing with unspoken secrets, the air thick with the scent of vanilla and lingering cologne. 

Zeus's cologne, inescapable.

For goodness sake, my nose even recognizes his scent even though he's not here.

I flicked on the light in the kitchen, the fluorescent hum breaking the silence. I poured a glass of milk from the fridge, the liquid swirling pale and innocent in the glass. As I lifted it to my lips, a faint glow caught my eye, seeping from beneath the door of Zeus's office down the hall. 

Curiosity stirred, sharp and insistent. Is he awake? What was he doing at this hour? Working? Plotting? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I hesitated, glass in hand, the milk forgotten. I shook my head. No. I shouldn't meddle with whatever he’s on. 

I put the glass on the counter and before I even realize it, my feet are moving on their own, drawn toward the door like a moth to flame.

The light bled brighter as I approached, and the sounds coming from the room grew a little loud. My hand froze on the handle as realization hawked upon me.

The sounds. Good heavens — the sounds.

Rhythmic. Wet. Urgent. 

A low groan slices through the silence, raw and guttural, like a beast in heat. My heart slams against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pulse between my thighs. I lean closer, breath shallow, and peek through the crack.

Zeus. Alone. His massive frame sprawls in the leather chair behind his desk, shadows dancing across his chiseled jaw. His hair is messy, white long sleeve is undone, hanging open like discarded armor, revealing the taut ridges of his chest glistening with sweat. 

His hand, fucking hell, his hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking with brutal intensity. Up and down, relentless, the thick shaft straining against his grip, veins bulging like cords of fury. His head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a snarl of ecstasy and agony.

“Saoirse…” he murmured, the word a guttural rasp that sliced through me.

Shock hit me like a wave, hot and paralyzing, but it morphed into arousal, a treacherous heat pooling between my thighs. Pity welled up, sharp and unbidden, for the man who seemed so utterly fractured beneath his facade of invincibility. 

The secret room's shadows lingered in my mind, tying this moment to his hidden vices. His hips bucked, thrusting into his grip, and another groan tore from him, deeper, more tormented, echoing the cracks in my own resolve.

“Fuck…” he growled to the empty room, his voice low and ragged.

His strokes intensified, the slick sounds amplifying, filling the air with raw intimacy. I bit my lip, stifling a gasp, my body responding despite myself, nipples hardening, thighs clenching as I watched him unravel. 

This was power's true face: a tyrant lost in self-pleasure, whispering my name like a mantra of obsession. Hatred flared, but pity softened it, blurring into a desire that terrified me. I should run, but I stayed, pulse syncing with his, voyeur to his vulnerability.

“Fucking hell…Saoirse,” he panted, his free hand fisting the armrest, knuckles whitening. “I’ll make you crave the darkness I offer.”

His words lashed at me, a promise of ruin that made my skin flush with dread and heat. The rhythm built, his breaths turning to pants, body tensing as he neared the brink. 

What if he sensed me? What if those eyes opened, trapping me in his gaze? The fear spiked, adrenaline mixing with illicit thrill, making my knees weak. I leaned closer, the door cool against my cheek, heart pounding so loud it drowned the wet slaps.

He groaned, voice fracturing as release claimed him. His cock pulsed, spilling in thick, hot ropes across his hand and abdomen, muscles convulsing in brutal waves. He slumped back, chest heaving, a satisfied yet anguished sigh escaping.

I tore away, stumbling back into the hall, vision blurring with the rush of escape. What the hell was that?!

The image seared into my brain, merciless, replaying endlessly. Zeus, pleasuring himself to thoughts of me, tied to the secrets of that room. Obsessed. Broken. 

And damn me, part of me wanted to push him further, to see if his control shattered completely. I fled upstairs, the milk completely forgotten, the mansion's shadows closing in like a shroud.

Zeus's voice haunted me, a loop of torment. My body ached, craving the forbidden. I rolled over, staring at the ceiling, fingers digging into the mattress.

“Why does it have to be him?” I mutter to the empty room, my voice a whisper of defiance. 

The question hangs, unanswered, as I sink onto the bed. My hands tremble as I pull the covers up, but they do nothing to ward off the chill of realization. He's not just my captor, he's a rival in this twisted game, his desire mirroring my own buried desires.

I close my eyes, but all I see is him. Stroking, groaning, unraveling. Fucking hell.

Morning creeps in like a thief, gray light filtering through the curtains. I haven't slept a wink. My body aches from tension, my mind from the replay of last night. Zeus's office door. The sounds. My name on his lips in his fantasy. 

Downstairs, the mansion hums with its usual eerie quiet, but today it feels charged, like the air before a storm.

In the kitchen, I pour coffee, the bitter scent grounding me. But as I turned to the counter, I almost dropped the porcelain mug from what welcomed me.

There he is. Zeus, leaning against the doorframe with his arms closed, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. 

He's dressed impeccably, suit tailored to his godlike frame. The shadows under his eyes are slightly evident, the slight tension in his jaw. 

Did he sleep? Or did he lie awake, haunted by the same ghosts?

“Good morning, Saoirse,” he says so casually, his voice smooth as silk.

“G–Good morning, sir.” I reply, keeping my tone neutral, but my gaze darts away. I can't look at him without picturing...that. He is all over the place.

He's under my skin now, a poison I can't purge.

He steps closer, the space between us shrinking, and I feel the heat radiating off him. 

“How was your sleep?” His question is innocent, but his eyes are dark.

“As well as can be expected,” I snap, stirring my coffee with more force than needed. The spoon clinks against the mug, a sharp sound in the silence. “Y–You?”

A smirk tugs at his lips, but it's laced with something raw. “Restless night. Thoughts...are keeping me up.”

My heart skips. What thoughts exactly? Dirty ones, was it? I set the spoon down, hands steady despite the tremor inside. “It…It must be exhausting being so...preoccupied.”

He let out a low chuckle, it was calm but laced with danger. Zeus walked towards the counter, closing the distance until he's inches away. The scent of him, vanilla, cedar and sin fills my senses, making my knees weak. 

“Exhausting? Perhaps, but it sure is worth every drop of it.”