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Chapter 15
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2025-07-05 11:14:29
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Worship Me, Duncan Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN— Duncan —I didn’t cry again after that night.Not because I wasn’t broken.But because I was done bleeding.There’s a difference.Bleeding means you still want to live.I didn’t.Not the way I had before.---The first three days after I saw them, I barely moved.I laid on the floor of my apartment like some wrecked animal, surrounded by the debris of what used to be me. Broken glasses, empty bottles, the shattered ring box lying in the corner like a grave marker.Her scent still clung to my pillows.Her lipstick was still on one of my glasses.Everything felt infected with her.And I couldn’t breathe.Not without tasting her.---By the fourth day, something inside me cracked.It didn’t happen like a lightning strike. It didn’t come with screaming or a dramatic epiphany. It was quiet.Like the final ember of a fire dying out.I got up.Showered.Shaved.Put on a suit like I was dressing for my own funeral.And looked in the mirror.There was no grief in my reflecti
Worship Me, Duncan Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN— Duncan —I should’ve walked away.Should’ve stayed on that rooftop and let her go—let them go—without looking back.But how the hell do you walk away from someone who just shattered you with silence?You don’t.You follow.Not because you don’t know the truth, but because you’re not ready to believe it.So I followed her.I followed them.Like a fucking idiot.---I drove like a madman.Didn’t even think about it. Didn’t question where I was going or why. Just… followed.Her scent was still on me.Her kiss still lingered on my mouth.I could still hear her laughing from hours ago—laughing in my kitchen, teasing me, crawling into my lap like she wanted me.Was that all a lie too?God, I didn’t want to know.But I had to.---Her apartment door was open.Fucking open.Not cracked.Not locked.Open like a stage, curtain drawn.My heart was pounding before I even stepped inside.Part of me was begging—please don’t, please don’t, please don’t.But I already knew.We alw
Worship Me, Duncan Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN— Duncan —There’s a very specific kind of silence that lives inside hope.The kind that fills the room just before you ask a question that could change your life.The kind that lingers in the seconds before a woman like Aphrodite Sivan either breaks your heart—or makes it beat for something more.That silence surrounded me as I stood alone on the rooftop I’d rented for the night, clutching a ring box in my hand, watching the city lights blur beneath the soft, golden glow of the candles I had arranged just for her.Aphrodite once told me she didn’t believe in forever.That people always leave, and even when they stay, they don’t stay whole.But I didn’t care about forever. I just wanted her.In this life. In this body. In this moment.Even if she broke me after.---I’d spent days planning the proposal. Weeks picking out the ring. A cut that would shine the same way her eyes did when she was teasing me, when she let her guard down just enough to touch something real.I
Worship Me, Duncan Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN— Aphrodite —There’s a cruel kind of irony in being worshipped.Everyone thinks it means power. That being wanted so completely by men—desired, praised, adored—makes you untouchable.But the truth?Being worshipped means you’re never allowed to fall.Not without breaking the man who’s kneeling for you.And tonight, Duncan Moretti was worshipping me with his whole soul.And I… was falling.Falling into him. Into this fantasy. Into a world I was never supposed to have.---“You cooked?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen with a smirk tugging at his lips. “Should I be afraid?”“Terrified,” I said, flipping the pan dramatically. “This is my famous disaster pasta. Slightly overcooked. Extra salty. You’re welcome.”He laughed. And it hit me like a punch in the chest.Not because it was loud or deep—but because it was real.Duncan rarely laughed. Not like this.Not without effort.Not unless it was with me.“I didn’t know you could laugh like that,” I murmured.He came up b
Worship Me, Duncan Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN—Aphrodite—There’s a quiet kind of power in knowing exactly what someone needs before they do.Duncan has learned to need me. He’s learned the curve of my smile, the sound of my laughter, the way I tilt my head when I’m about to say something dangerous. He’s learned to crave my touch like it’s his last breath. But what he doesn’t realize—what he hasn’t seen yet—is that I don’t need him at all.I’m the one who holds the reins, and I’ve already made sure he’ll never slip out of my grasp.---The dinner is perfect. Of course, it is.I’ve planned everything—from the wine to the music to the way he’ll look at me when I walk into the room.He’s already dressed, waiting for me in the living room. The light from the fireplace casts soft shadows across his face, making him look like he belongs in a dream. But I don’t let him get too comfortable with the idea of that. I keep my distance, make him wait just long enough for that brief, maddening itch of impatience to grow.“You
Worship Me, Duncan Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN—Aphrodite—He doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already turned him into art.Not the kind you frame and hang in some white-walled gallery, but the kind you wear.Loud. Beautiful. Breathtaking.Mine.---The first time we step out together in public, I pick his suit.Slate black, soft shoulders, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned just low enough to suggest he still belongs to the world—but his cufflinks say otherwise.They say owned.I adjust his collar myself. Fix his tie. Press a kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper, “You’ll be perfect.”He doesn’t ask for details.He just looks at me like I’ve blessed him.---The fundraiser is crawling with New York’s social elite—names that shape markets and dine like royalty. I know most of them. Have slept with a few. Broken more.When we arrive, all eyes turn.Not to me.To us.There’s a silence. A question. An electricity in the air that has nothing to do with the glittering chandeliers or champagne towers.They see him—Dunca
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