Sleep kept breaking apart every time.
He moved — I woke up.
He sighed — I woke up.
I was dozing, not sleeping.
My body couldn't shut down.
The alarm clock. Quiet. Not mine. His.
One.
Two.
On the third, he finally peeled himself away from my waist. Got up. Went to the bathroom.
Without words. Without a look. Like a guest. As if I wasn't here.
I hear water. A clasp. The scrape of a zipper.
Then footsteps. A pause. Voices in the hallway. Male voices.
Security, most likely. Helped carry things out.
He left.
What was that, even. Spent the night? Doesn't he have a home? Or is this how it will be now — came, lay down, left?
Lack of sleep. A dull emptiness in my head. Everything irritated me.
But he left two hours before my alarm.
I just closed my eyes and shut off.
There would be time to think at work. If I wanted to.
The morning was miserable.
My head ached. My eyes burned. My whole body throbbed, like after a fight.
I was angry. At myself. At him. At everything.
I held two coffees in my hands. Rode the elevator up. Slowly. I wanted to throw them at the wall.
If anyone knocks today, I won't open. No one. I swear.
Work saved me. Documents, numbers, inconsistencies in Phoenix's reports. Something started to come together.
I clung to it like a bone.
But I still caught myself letting my eyes run over the lines without reading.
Searching. Not looking. And I am looking.
Four hours.
I was already getting ready to leave.
I was reaching for my bag when one of Theron's guards appeared. Calm, no extra words.
"Pack your things. You're expected in the parking lot."
There was nothing on my schedule. No meetings. No outings.
But I didn't argue. Who knows. Maybe I was needed again to escort someone. Or sit on a chair nearby, for decoration.
I understood everything when I opened the car door.
He was there.
Theron.
Sitting, looking straight ahead. No expression. No words.
"Let's go," he said. And dictated my address.
That was all.
As if he knew.
As if he had heard my thoughts.
That I wouldn't let anyone in if they knocked. That I wouldn't even open the door.
So he went with me.
So there would be no way out.
Everything went according to the same scenario.
He — into the shower.
Me — setting the table for dinner. Then into the shower too.
Like a couple. That had been together a long time. Too long.
Only it wasn't a couple. And not "together."
I understood: if he decided something, arguing was useless.
Like yesterday. I just went about my business.
I sat down next to the sofa. Started sorting through the books that lay under the glass on the table. The mess irritated me.
He sat down next to me.
Very close. His leg pressed against my shoulder. As if he had deliberately sat right up against me, touching.
The phone rang. He answered. His voice immediately turned rough. He spoke harshly, without pauses, pushing every word.. Then he started to raise his voice. Not at once, but without breaking. The conversation turned into a stream of commands. I tried to focus, but every sharp thrust of his phrases interfered. Not the content — the sound. Loud, angry, close.
I looked at him. At his hands. At his neck. The veins stood out, his jaw clenched. He was tense, like after a fight. His wet skin had dried, but the muscles were still taut. He wasn't controlling his expression. Wasn't holding his posture. Wasn't switching on office mode. He was completely real.
I didn't listen to the conversation itself. It didn't interest me. It was enough to see how he held the phone, how his expression changed, how his body stayed braced. Without words it was clear what state he was in.
He looked less like a man and more like someone in whom everything was being held together by the last remnants of control.
I watched longer than I meant to.
I caught myself. Not handsome. Just real. And dangerous.
And here he was again. With dinner, with a shower, with silence. As if that was how it should be. As if we had some kind of stability. Though all I wanted was just sex. Without pauses between actions. Without this domestic performance. We would make perfect sex partners.
He noticed immediately that I was looking. Caught my gaze and stopped. The phone was still in his hand, but he wasn't listening anymore. No reaction to the voice on the other end. He had already switched. He was looking only at me. He said nothing. Didn't look away. In that moment he wasn't busy or distracted. All his attention was here.
I didn't expect that his attention could be obtained so easily. It threw me off, though I didn't show it. As if he had been waiting for me to look. His thumb slowly traced over my lips. His gaze became direct, without trying to hide anything. There was desire there, open and insistent. For a second I stopped understanding which of us was testing the other.
I touched his finger with my tongue as he moved it over my lips. He froze instantly. The tension in his body became visible — lower as well. He didn't hide his arousal, didn't even try. The robe only emphasized it. He cut the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa. Then he pulled me closer, without words, sharply, lifted me onto himself as if everything had already been decided.
He slid a finger into my mouth, and I began to suck. Slowly. Calmly. I sat on top of him, facing him. I clearly felt how his cock tensed beneath me. Hard, heavy, pressed tight against my inner thighs. He didn't move. Just watched. His eyes were hard, dark, without softness. He looked at me as if checking how far I was willing to go.
"You are an accusation," Theron threw out. His voice was slightly lower than usual, restrained but clear. He was covering his desire, but I already knew it was there. The question wasn't about that. The question was why he was complicating everything. He wanted me. I wanted him. Everything was simple. Why then these detours, this behavior with more control than action.
He smoothly pulled my T-shirt off, exposing my chest, and studied me carefully. Was he looking at the scars? For a moment I thought about covering myself. But maybe that was exactly what he wanted. To find my weak spots.
I took his finger out of my mouth and guided it to my nipple. And, directing his hand, began to slowly move it over it. He quickly picked up the motion and continued without my guidance.
But it was clearly not enough for him. He shoved my shorts aside, almost tearing them apart, and lifting me, entered me. I felt his heated cock inside me. From pleasure he squeezed my breast with one hand and pressed me down by the waist with the other.
"You wanted a reaction, now don't complain," he whispered calmly, savoring the moment.
How did he know? Did he really read me that easily? Or was I behaving like all his other lovers?
I slid one hand into his beautiful hair and pulled back.
Rising slightly off his cock, I brought my face closer to his.
"So I can test you fully?" I teased him and ran my tongue along his lower lip, moving smoothly on his cock. "Everything would be simpler if you didn't play this family idyll." I sank down on him to the very limit and felt everything inside explode.
Theron felt it too. A faint smile appeared on his face.
He grabbed me by the hips, stood up, and carried me to the bedroom. Threw me onto the bed and stripped the rest of my clothes off completely.
"I tried to be more modest, but since you opened yourself," he said with satisfaction, throwing off his robe and revealing his beautiful body I had admired yesterday. "Don't expect you'll outplay me. But today I'll test you."
I was foolish when I thought he would let me lead. He took control completely, leaving nothing behind, and I didn't even try to resist. Not because I couldn't. Because I didn't want to. His touches, kisses, the pressure of his body erased the irritation one by one. I felt it clearly. My body accepted everything he did, without questions or conditions.
I was ready to stay in that state all night. And he didn't stop. He brought me to that edge where thoughts begin to tangle and the body grows heavy. I was almost falling asleep when his tongue passed over my chest. I opened my eyes. He looked at me after another orgasm of his and was satisfied. It was visible without words.
"For today, your limit is reached. Rest. Tomorrow you have to work with an unbearable boss," he said calmly.
My consciousness was already drifting, but I heard it. The words stayed. Did that mean he separated work and bed. Did it mean he was learning not to repeat past mistakes. I didn't analyze it. Thoughts fell apart, and my body slid into sleep.
He chose me. Not Liana. Not his princess Amy.
Tonight, he chose me.
In the morning I was woken by noise in the living room. Judging by the sounds, Theron was getting ready for work and gathering his things. I didn't pay attention. I wrapped my arms around the pillow and closed my eyes again. The alarm hadn't gone off yet. I could allow myself a few more minutes of silence. Last night had squeezed everything out of me. In the literal sense of the words.
When it was time to get ready, I made sure he had taken everything again. Not a single extra thing. As if he had never been here. Out of caution or for other reasons, I don't know. I didn't think about it. Honestly, I wasn't thrilled with his sudden appearances either.
I didn't understand him well. Either he was playing some game, or he was simply using me as convenient variety. I preferred the second option. It required no explanations.
On the way to work I stopped by a bookstore. The clerk recognized me, as always. She started talking about new legal arrivals, but I interrupted her and asked for a novel. Contemporary. One of those where he is rich, dangerous, and for some reason chooses the most inconspicuous one. She froze for a second, then smiled and brought three of the most popular options. The titles were predictable. The CEO and the Secretary. The CEO and the Courier. Falling in Love with a Billionaire. All in the same vein.
I didn't pretend to choose for long. I took all three and went to work.
At work there was a breakthrough. New inconsistencies surfaced in Phoenix's documents, larger than before. Now, even at a distance, it was clear why his brother had insisted that I consult him first. The picture was forming not in his favor.
I put everything together into reports, neatly, without emotion. Sent them via personal email to Theron and Ostin. Closed the computer exactly at six and went home.
The apartment was unusually quiet. No Theron. No security. Empty. For a second I caught myself listening. As if waiting. Those thoughts were immediately sent where they belonged.
He's not here, and that's good. I can rest. Collapse onto the sofa and open those very same sappy novels. Maybe between the lines I'll manage to understand what's wrong with the rich. Why everything is always complicated for them, even when they could simply live.