ass and squeezes it hard enough to leave a line in the fabric of her dress. She tips her head back and laughs. The scene repeats itself around the lounge. Asses slide onto laps. Hands cup breasts. Fingers creep up beneath hemlines. Giggles. Laughter. Sighs. One man wraps his hands around a girl’s neck and pulls her in close, whispering to her through gritted teeth. She pulls back, a finger on his chest. A negotiation. It’s a short one, and then he kisses her with a vicious bite. The flutter of her eyes gives away the pain, and then he’s bundling her out through an exit I didn’t notice before, already pulling at her dress.
They’re going to do that to me.
I knew that. I knew that when I decided to come here. I knew it in an abstract way, a way I tried not to imagine. I tried to keep it far from my mind so I could bear it when the day came. But now it’s impossible to ignore.
Those men will do that to me, and they want to do it right now. It’s only Zeus who’s forcing them to wait.
And I’m... grateful.
It’s a reluctant, ill-fitting gratitude. Because the gorgeous god standing next to me, fending them off, is not a good man.
But he’s given me a reprieve. If only for tonight.
11
Zeus
The poor thing thinks I’ve saved her.
The longer I look at Brigit, the more I can see her little tells. The way her eyes widen when she’s relieved, and the way they get wider when she’s afraid. The quiver in her jaw when she’s trying to be brave. The way she rubs her forefinger gently against her thumb instead of clenching her fist when she’s nervous. That blank expression from last night was a fucking lie, just like the idea that she gets a free pass tonight.
So I stopped one man from groping her. That doesn’t mean we’re finished for the night.
I keep her by my side all evening and well past midnight. It keeps her on edge, just how I like. Her sidelong glances give her away. She only believed me for about five minutes after I announced to the room that she won’t be available until the party.
She doesn’t know it’s this weekend, but she’s still afraid, and it’s intoxicating. It’s especially intoxicating for me, because unlike the other men in this room, I know exactly how terrified she is of the prospect. If only I could see inside her mind. It would be quite something, watching her thoughts as she tries to wrestle with the idea of twelve men. The list, I haven’t told her yet, is up to fifteen. Some girls have come in commanding a list of ten, which makes for a long second night after the bidding is finished.
And because I like the scent of her fear, I keep dangling her in front of them. Making her sit on my lap. Making her stand at my side. Keeping her wrist in my hand, held loosely on top of the arm of my chair. Reminding her, with every breath, that I could crush her. It makes me hard. Obnoxiously so. The discussions this late at night inevitably turn to the whores the men have fucked and who they plan to visit next time they arrive. It’s boring but necessary conversation. This is how I keep trouble at Olympus to a minimum. The clients who are unhappy find their way to the lounge and tell me all about it. The girls who sense an oncoming storm bring me a drink and whisper in my ear. I send people to break things up, to interrupt before escalating situations get out of control. It’s a fucking circus, and I’m the one in the middle.
All I want is to get off this fucking ride and take Brigit to my room. It’s a double-edged sword, really. I’m scaring her, on purpose, because I like it. And she’s teasing me, unthinkingly, because she can’t help it. Her trip to the spa this afternoon should have demonstrated that I’m not afraid to humiliate her in front of a crowd. Making the list should have confirmed it.
I wait until the lounge has cleared out, until the very last whispers have faded. I wait until she relaxes, her shoulders letting down. Someone handed me a drink a few minutes ago, and I let go of Brigit, giving her a foot or two of space. She glances toward the door then back at