Chapter 4 – Crumbs of Luxury

Zion continues sliding the cold strawberry over my nipple, circling slowly, teasing. Elias keeps two fingers pressed against my soaked entrance, opening me, but without penetrating—just feeling how wet and desperate I am.

“Say it,” Elias repeats, his voice deep and relentless. “Say you want us. Or we’ll leave you like this all night.”

I clench my teeth, my entire body trembling with rage, desire, and deep shame. Silent tears slide down my face.

“You… can’t do this,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

Zion lets out a low, dark laugh.

“We already did, Ess. Princess. And we’ll keep doing it until you stop lying to yourself.”

Elias slowly withdraws his fingers, leaving a painful emptiness inside me. Instead of continuing to touch me, he picks up a piece of cheese from the tray and brings it to my lips. I hesitate for a second, but hunger wins. I open my mouth and accept it. The salty flavor explodes on my tongue.

Luka pours more wine, holding the glass patiently while I take small sips. Zion feeds me strawberries one by one, wiping the juice that runs down my chin with his thumb.

They feed me in silence for long minutes. Careful touches. None of them tries to fuck me. None of them forces anything. They just… Take care of me. While I remain tied up. While I remain naked. While I remain completely at their mercy.

The contrast unsettles me more than any brutality ever could.

“Why?” I ask finally, my voice hoarse. “Why are you doing this? Kidnapping me, tying me up… and now feeding me like I’m precious?”

Elias wipes a trickle of juice from my lower lip with his thumb.

“Because you are precious,” he answers simply. “Because we spent years watching you destroy yourself alone. Because we’re tired of losing you every time we get close.”

Zion sits beside me on the bed, lazily tracing a finger along the curve of my breast.

“You barely talk about your family. We know your relationship with your parents has always been bad. That you carry something too heavy with them. But you never really let us in.”

I go rigid. They don’t know. Thank God, they still don’t know the full extent of what my father did to me.

Luka notices my reaction and strokes my hair, brushing sweaty strands from my face.

“We don’t need to know all the details today. But we know you carry fear. We know you run from us because you think you don’t deserve to stay. And we’re tired of that, Maeve.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their words. The tears return, hotter.

“You don’t understand…” I whisper. “You don’t understand how broken I am. How much my past still suffocates me.”

Zion holds my chin firmly but without hurting me, forcing me to look at him.

“Then let us understand. Stop carrying everything alone. Stop running. We’re here, Maeve. We tied you up because we know that if we didn’t, you’d disappear again the moment the ship docked.”

Luka rests his forehead against mine, breathing against my lips.

“Let us take care of you. Even if it’s just for these seven nights. Even if you still hate us tomorrow.”

Elias caresses my stomach with the warm palm of his hand, as if trying to calm the storm inside me.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he murmurs. “You need to rest. Tomorrow… we’ll continue tomorrow.”

They don’t release me completely. They only loosen the ropes a little, enough for me to bend my arms. Zion lies down behind me, fitting his body against mine. Elias stays in front, pulling me against his broad chest. Luka lies on the other side, holding my hand in his.

I’m exhausted. Sore. Still wet. Still furious.

But surrounded by them, feeling the warmth of their three bodies protecting me, I close my eyes.

“I still hate you,” I murmur against Elias’s chest.

Zion chuckles softly behind me, kissing the back of my neck.

“Good. Tomorrow you can bite me again.”

The ship rocks gently, lulling us.

And, for the first time in a long time, even tied up, naked, and a prisoner, I feel… less alone.

The soft light of dawn filters through the panoramic windows, painting the room in golden and pink tones. The Caribbean Sea sparkles outside, calm and indifferent to the chaos inside me.

I wake up still trapped between them. Zion behind me, his heavy arm over my waist. Elias is in front, my face pressed to his broad chest. Luka is on the side, holding one of my hands in his, as if afraid I might disappear during the night.

My mouth is dry. My wrists ache. And worst of all, my body still throbs with unresolved frustration.

I try to move. Zion tightens his arm around my waist without fully waking up.

“Stay still,” he murmurs against my nape, his voice rough with sleep. “We’re not done with you yet.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Part of me wants to fight. Part of me wants to cry. And a growing, treacherous part just wants to stay there, wrapped in their warmth.

Elias wakes first. His dark brown eyes meet mine the moment they open. He doesn’t smile. He simply watches me for a long moment, as if reading every thought passing through my head.

“Good morning,” he says quietly.

“There’s nothing good about this,” I reply, my voice still hoarse.

He doesn’t argue. He just leans in and kisses my forehead, lingering. A gesture so gentle it almost hurts.

Luka wakes next, squeezing my hand before releasing it. Zion is last, grumbling something about wanting to sleep more, but eventually gets up anyway.

They untie the ropes completely. My arms fall heavily, aching. I massage the marked wrists as I sit up in bed, pulling the sheet over my body. It’s useless—they’ve already seen everything, touched everything, teased everything.

Zion goes to the closet and returns with a black silk robe. He tosses it to me.

“Put this on. We’re having breakfast on the balcony.”

I catch the robe, surprised. I wasn’t expecting clothes. I wasn’t expecting anything other than more torture.

While I put on the robe, they watch. Not with hunger this time, but with something more dangerous: patience.

We step out onto the private balcony of the presidential suite. The sea breeze is fresh and salty. The table is already set with coffee, fruit, eggs, bread, and juices. Everything was perfect, luxurious, almost surreal.

I sit in one of the chairs. They settle around me—Zion to my right, Luka to my left, Elias in front of me. Like three guard dogs.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. Then Luka breaks it.

“You slept between us all night without trying to run,” he observes, swirling his coffee in the cup. “That’s progress.”

“I was exhausted,” I snap back. “Don’t confuse tiredness with surrender.”

Zion chuckles lowly.

“Still sharp-tongued. Good. I prefer you fighting than broken.”

I look out at the sea, avoiding their eyes.

“What exactly do you want from me? For me to say I love you? To accept living with three of you after this setup you planned for me?”

Elias sets his cup down and leans forward.

“We want you to stop running. We want you to let us in, Maeve. We’ve been doing this for years—this back and forth—and we’re tired of it.”

I take a deep breath. The wind tousles my hair.

“You think it’s that simple? I carry things… things you can’t even imagine. Things that make me feel dirty. That makes me feel like I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve Matthew. I don’t deserve any of this.”

Luka reaches across the table and takes my hand.

“Then tell us when you’re ready. Not today. Not tomorrow. But one day. In the meantime, let us take care of you. Let us show you that, despite everything you carry, we still want you—whole.”

Zion stands, comes behind me, and rests his hands on my shoulders, slowly massaging the tension there.

“Seven nights, Maeve. That’s all we’re asking. At the end of this trip, if you still want to leave… we’ll let you go. It’s the last chance we’re asking for.”

I close my eyes. His touch feels good. Warm. Safe.

“You’re impossible,” I whisper.

“We’re yours,” Elias answers simply.

We stay there for a while in silence. The sun rises higher in the sky. And for the first time since I woke up tied up, I don’t feel only anger.

I feel fear.

Fear that they might actually make me stay.

Fear that I might want to stay.

When breakfast is over, Zion pulls me onto his lap on the wide lounge chair. He doesn’t force anything. He just holds me against his chest, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.

Luka and Elias sit beside us, one on each side, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Rest,” Zion murmurs into my hair. “We still have many days ahead.”

I don’t answer.

But I don’t pull away either.

And that, in itself, is already a small surrender. A crack in the wall I built over eleven years.

The sea remains blue and endless around us.