Chapter Five:In The Lion's Den
1077 Words
Later that night, back in her assigned room, Elena couldn’t hold it in anymore.
She sat at the edge of her bed, her body trembling. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks. Her fingers were numb from the cold, not of the room, but of her own thoughts.
“Elena!” her mother’s voice called from the other end of the line.
She picked up the phone slowly, pressed it to her ear, but couldn’t speak.
“Elena, what’s wrong?”
She passed the phone to her mother and whispered, her lips barely moving, “This is going to be harder than I thought mother. I don't know if I can take it.”
Her mother stayed quiet for a while.
“You’re strong, baby,” she said softly. And you’ve come too far to back down now. He may be rich, but he’s not God. You will be okay.”
Elena nodded, even though her heart didn’t believe it yet.
Meanwhile, down in the study, Max leaned against Adrian’s desk, arms folded.
“She’s just a girl, boss. A young one. Maybe a little too ambitious, maybe seeking attention… but not worth all this.”
Adrian looked up sharply.
“Shut up, Max.”
Max blinked. “I’m just saying—”
Max exhaled. “She’s young. Naïve.”
"That's enough Max, “calls one of the girls. I need some attention tonight.”
Yes sir, Max replied…
______________________________________
It was 11 p.m., and Elena lay restless in bed. The soft glow of the lamp by her bedside couldn’t drown out the unmistakable sounds filtering through the ceiling above her. At first, she thought it was the wind or maybe someone shifting furniture—but the moans quickly proved her wrong.
Loud, rhythmic. Then breathy.
Then unmistakably...pleasure.
Elena blinked, sat up, and stared at the ceiling. Her skin prickled as the sounds grew louder, more intense.
There was no mistaking it now—someone was being pleasured, hard, right above her room. The moans turned into screams of ecstasy, the kind she’d only ever heard in overheard jokes or R-rated movie scenes her mother never allowed.
She covered her ears with the pillow, but it was pointless. The walls were too thin. The sounds too graphic.
Why would anyone in this house be so loud? And at this time?
And whose room was directly above hers?
Elena turned and turned on her bed, trying to ignore it—but the curiosity was unbearable. Her heart thumped in confusion and unease. Something about it just didn't sit right with her. It wasn’t just the act itself—it was the sheer volume, the dominance, the…presence.
She had to know.
Almost without thinking, she climbed out of bed. Quietly. Cautiously. She pulled on her robe and tiptoed to the door, easing it open like a spy on a mission. The hallway was dark and silent, save for the echo of those haunting, breathless cries.
She moved up the stairs slowly, the old wood creaking beneath her bare feet. She paused at every corner, half-praying someone would stop her—half-hoping they wouldn’t.
After a few wrong turns and near-misses, she found it.
The room.
The one with the moaning.
It was slightly ajar.
And the sounds? Louder. Raw. Real.
Elena’s breath hitched.
She moved closer, her heart hammering in her chest, and peeked through the small gap in the doorway.
Her world froze.
Her mouth fell open.
Her pulse raced so hard it hurt.
Inside, under the dim gold lights of a massive chandelier, was Adrian. Shirtless. Muscles taut. Dominant. Moving with a sharp, carnal rhythm. And beneath him—legs spread, hair wild—was a woman she didn’t recognize, crying his name like it was the only word she knew.
“Elena,” she whispered, her own name catching in her throat as she slapped a hand over her mouth.
Her entire body tensed.
And then, as if the universe was punishing her curiosity, Adrian turned.
His eyes met hers.
Frozen.
Locked.
Her heart stopped for a beat.
Then—panic.
She bolted.
Down the stairs. Around the corner. Nearly tripping on the hallway rug as she reached her door, slammed it shut, and locked it with trembling fingers.
She threw herself under the sheets, her breathing ragged. Her hands over her chest. Her eyes are wide with fear.
What had she just seen?
What had she just done?
And why—why did his stare burn through her skin like that?
Elena curled deeper into her blanket, her heart racing faster than her thoughts could keep up. What had she just seen? Why did it affect her this much? She wasn't supposed to care. It wasn't her business. Yet the image of Adrian, raw, passionate, was now permanently buried in her mind.
Tears welled up in her eyes, not from heartbreak, but confusion. Why did her chest feel tight? Why did the air suddenly feel heavy? It wasn’t jealousy…was it?
By morning, she hadn't slept at all. Her eyes were puffy, her movements sluggish. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time before dressing in the only other outfit she had been given. She was determined to act unbothered. She couldn’t give Adrian the satisfaction of knowing that she was shaken.
Downstairs, the long dining table looked like something out of a royal palace. Adrian was already seated, sipping his coffee like the night before had never happened. Elena hesitated at the doorway, but Max waved her in.
“Sleep well?” Max asked with a smile.
Elena nodded. “Yes." Thank you.”
Adrian’s eyes briefly met hers. There was no remorse, no explanation—only that arrogant smirk tugging at his lips.
“You're five minutes late,” he said flatly, setting his cup down.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she muttered.
“You should be,” he replied, standing. Today’s schedule is packed. We leave in ten. Be sharp.”
As he walked past her, he stopped for a split second and leaned close.
“Next time, lock your door tighter. "Some people tend to wander,” he whispered.
Her breath caught in her throat. He knew. He wasn’t going to let her forget it.
Elena walked slowly to the car, with thoughts in her head …
Was he watching?
?
What did he mean by that?...
They all got in the car, and the driver zoomed off gently.
- Writer
