Chapter 2.

Chase Olympus.

February 5th. Thursday. Morning.

It’s barely five a.m., and I’m already up. I’m done with my morning routine at the gym. Finished jerking iron. Legs screaming from the workout. Sweat cooling on my skin as I head back toward my room.

“Sir. Your father has been calling all night.”

The voice comes from behind me as I mount the spiral staircase of my apartment.

I halt mid step and turn.

Cameo steps forward, extending the house phone.

I take it. “Hello, Dad.”

“Where have you been?” He snaps immediately. “I’ve been calling you nonstop.”

I descend the stairs again, slowly. Steps measured.

“And good morning to you too, Dad.” I drawl.

“Don’t play smug with me, Chase. Where were you yesterday evening? I was calling you. One of your men said you were busy with some gala.”

I inhale, pinching the bridge of my nose as I move toward the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse.

“I was at a gala,” I say smoothly.

Memory surges. Women clinging, men posturing, everyone desperate to be seen beside Chase Olympus of Mount Olympus Bank. None of it mattered. Not one fucking bit.

All that mattered was the order.

Take the girl.

“Davenport is dead, Chase,” Dad says, dragging me back to the present. “The report reached me hours ago. The girls in his fucking brothel are accounted for, every single one. Except one girl. Our boys in the police say the others were released to some rehab facility.”

A pause.

“But Salt. Salt isn’t there.” Dad adds, frantically.

Lucy. Not Salt. I mentally correct. I hate that name Salt. It doesn’t suit her.

I school my expression, even though all I want right now is to go upstairs and sink my cock inside her again.

“What do we tell our clients?” Dad asks sharply.

Silence follows. Then Dad's heavy breathing, a contrast to my calmness.

“We tell them the girl died,” I reply. Voice cold. Controlled.

“And risk our reputation? We took payment...”

“Then we kill them.” I interrupt. “Silence them before they start making demands.”

Silence stretches across the line.

“No,” he finally says. “I don’t want that. We’ll keep searching. The girl might turn up.”

The call ends. The last words don't bother me. He would never find her. No one will.

I lower the phone and stare out at the city as dawn slowly creeps across the skyline.

“Sir?” Cameo says, stepping forward to retrieve the phone.

“Make sure my father never finds out about the girl.” I order quietly. “If any man is too weak to obey me, shoot him.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turn and take the stairs two at a time.

The moment I enter my bedroom, the scent hits me.

Strawberry. Cinnamon.

The body wash I used on Salt last night, after I took her again.

She’s asleep on my bed.

So still. So deceptively innocent. Her tanned skin glows against the sheets. Her breasts are heavy, barely covered. Her long dark hair that spill over the pillow.

I slide under the covers beside her. Watching her, intensely. Like a man starved.

Last night crashes back. The way she struggled against me. Fought me. Restrained herself. Then the way she finally let go. Screamed my name, the way her body opened for me, the way she came apart.

My cock hardens instantly. Why? God this isn't the first time I'm having a woman. So why is this different? Why her? What makes her different?

Why do I currently risk everything?

I strip off my joggers and slip my hands between her thighs, parting her slowly. My fingers slide into her warmth. Coaxing. Circling.

“Mmm…” She moans sleeply, hips rocking instinctively as I rub her clit faster.

She spreads her legs wider for me. I reach for a condom on the nightstand, roll it on, and position myself between her thighs.

Her eyes snap open.

Confusion. Shock. Then something darker. Maybe fear, memory.

“Chase…” She gasps in horror. She tries to struggle. Tries to run from under me. But I pin her down with my weight. I stare at her, deeply. Then slowly, I lean closer. Testing. Watching her.

"Do you want me to stop?" I ask her, quietly. I'm reluctantly giving her a choice. She hesitates. "Do you want me to stop?" I ask again..

"I'm scared to answer that..." She says weakly. Her eyes suddenly pool with tears. My gaze on her softens.

"Scared? Why?" I ask her. She hesitates again.

"I'm scared you will hurt me like you did Davenport and that security guard." She mutters. I still, my eyes searching hers.

Memory flashes of last night. The news of my men taking down the security guard. But instead of responding to her, I hold her gaze and I push inside her slowly.

“Ah...” I groan as her heat swallows me. Relief and pleasure slam into me at once. Hearing my name on her lips, it feeds something dark and possessive in me.

“Move for me, Kitten,” I murmur. “Circle your hips.”

She hesitates a bit. Then reluctantly shuts her eyes, arches closer. Her hips roll clumsily, dragging me with her, squeezing me tight.

I lift her hips, spread her wider. Guide her. And hit her at an angle that makes her cry out. That makes her finally move in sync with me.

Her nails rake my bare back as I thrust harder. Faster. She takes it. All of it. Her walls stretching, soaking me.

Then she looks at me.

And I see it.

Doubt. Hurt. Betrayal.

Her body stiffens.

I lean down and kiss her softly, sliding my fingers between us, coaxing her open again.

She yields.

“That’s it, Kitten.” I mutter against her skin, sucking hard on her nipples. “Cum for me.”

She shudders.

“Ahhh!” She cries out.

And I explode, my groan torn from my chest as I kiss her, hard.

When our breathing finally slows, I gently rise from the bed. I cross to the mirror, grab the envelope waiting there.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Her voice stops me.

I turn. She’s sitting upright against the headboard, tears streaking her face.

“Why did you bring me here against my will?” She cries. “If you wanted sex, Davenport would’ve allowed it. But not this. Not abducting me. Not using me for free.”

My jaw tightens.

For free?

I don't like those words.

I walk back to the bed and extend the envelope to her.

“Read this.”

She stares at it but doesn’t take it.

“Trust me,” I say quietly. “It’ll help ease you.”

I set the envelope on the bed between us.

Then I turn and head toward the shower.

Behind me, Lucy's sharp inhale. Then a sharp shriek, accompanied by the soft rustle of paper being opened, filling the air.