Richer Than God - Amelia Wilde Page 0,37

high as best she can—it hurts; it’s good.

When it’s done, she bursts into tears, still holding on to me.

15

Brigit

It’s over, and I don’t know why I’m crying. The release, maybe. Or the pain. Or the foolish agony of it being over at all. I push myself away from Zeus’s hard body and search for the edge of the bed. I get my feet on solid ground to the sound of him zipping his pants. A hand moves around the back of my neck, and for an aching heartbeat, I think he might pull me in and hug me.

The thought is laughable a moment later as he’s walking me to the door, naked and bloody, like he’s turned me inside out. It’s so clean in here, so white, and I can only hope I’m not getting anything dirty. As if it matters—he could replace it all. Burn down the building and start again.

At the elevator, he pulls me up onto my tiptoes, stretching me out. I gasp with it, but he cuts it off with a hard, desolate kiss.

And then he pushes me into the elevator.

“No.” I’m buzzing, humming, detached from the floor, and I can’t let go of the wall or else I’ll fall over. I’m weak in the knees. Weak in the body. Weak in the soul. This is not how it’s supposed to go when you lose your virginity to a beautiful man. Zeus unrolls one of the cuffs of his shirt and tugs it back down into place, watching me like I’m a living art exhibit. “I don’t have any clothes, please—”

The door shuts on his impassive expression.

I lurch for the buttons, stabbing them one by one with my thumb, but none of them do anything. Oh my God. He’s sent me down in an elevator to where—to the first floor? What am I supposed to do, run for the stairs and hope nobody sees me? There are people down there. Savannah is down there. She’ll know. Everyone will know. My stomach drops faster than the descent of the elevator. I’d scream, but there’s no point.

It comes to a halt before I’m ready, on the second floor, and I back up against the wall and pray nobody’s there when the door opens. Prayer has been useless to me up until now, but if there’s ever a moment for a higher power—higher than Zeus—this is it.

The door opens.

“Come here,” says Reya. She holds out a big, fluffy robe, and I realize I’m still crying, tears tracking down my cheeks. She bundles me off the elevator and down a series of turns. “He’ll want you dressed for dinner.” Her tone is mildly reprimanding. I can’t tell if it’s me or Zeus she’s scolding.

“Dinner?”

That can’t be right. I’m only good for pulling the blankets over my head and blocking out this day.

And... something else.

There’s a tug beneath my belly button, a glow of desire. It makes another sob catch in my throat. How could he?

How could he stop?

Reya rubs briskly at my back as we walk. “Your hair still looks fine,” she murmurs, assessing. “Makeup, not so much. What a waste of mascara. But I can make it look like you were never crying. Come on, this way. There’s another space we can use.”

I keep waiting for it, all the way down to a smaller version of the spa, with one salon chair and a more limited selection of makeup. I wait for her to say it while she hands me clean clothes and shuts me into a bathroom. While she fixes the fall of my hair. While she makes delicate sweeps of eyeshadow on my eyelids.

I wait for it, but Reya never says that it will be all right.

16

Zeus

There is bookkeeping to be done tonight.

Savannah needs a bonus in case Morris really does show up here tomorrow. I doubt he will. He likes a spectacle, and if he can go off with Savannah in front of his men, it will be all the better for him. I’ll have to pay her now and after. Once for her fury and once for her tears. Then we’ll be even.

I hesitate over the ledger on the next line.

Technically, Brigit owes me. And here I am, trying to come up with adequate compensation for what I’ve taken from her.

Which is everything.

And I want more of it.

Fuck, I want more of it. I toss the pen down and close my eyes against the afternoon light. It’s been two hours since I took her in