VENGEANCE IN HIS BED

Episode 8

The morning light felt like a physical assault, I woke up with the phantom weight of what had happened last night. Every muscle in my body ached with the memory of him, the way he had claimed me in the back of that limousine as if I were something he owned and how I had touched myself wishing it was him instead.

I looked at the midnight-blue dress slumped in the corner. Last night, it had felt like a dream, now, it looked like a shroud.

To him, it was just s*x. A physical release and a billionaire taking his due.

I walked to the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the steamed-up mirror. My lips were slightly swollen, and a faint mark on my collarbone stood out like a brand. I touched it, a jagged spark of shame warring with the lingering, traitorous hum in my blood.

"Of course it was just s*x," I whispered to the steam. "Nothing more."

But as I watched a droplet of water trail down the glass, a cold, hard clarity began to settle in my chest. If he wanted me to be a toy, I would be the most addictive toy he had ever touched. If he wanted to treat me like a distraction, I would become a distraction he couldn't live without.

I had been so focused on the mystery, on the old papers and the dusty secrets, that I’d forgotten the most basic rule of the hunt. To kill a king, you have to be close enough to feel his heartbeat. You have to understand the rhythm of his life before you can learn how to stop it.

He thought he was using me to satisfy a drunken urge or he was the one in control. He didn't realize that every time he touched me, he was letting me inside his fortress.

I would give him exactly what he wanted, the heat in his bed and the submissive archivist in his library. I would make him crave me until his judgment was clouded and his guard was down.

"Enjoy the win, Ethan," I murmured, pulling on my robe and tightening the belt with a jerk. "Because the closer I get, the easier it will be to find the knife."

I had made a choice I wouldn't recoil, I wouldn't act like the victim of a dark billionaire’s whim. If intimacy was the only bridge he allowed between the sub-level and his world, I would walk it until it crumbled under my feet. I would get so close that he couldn't see the knife I was hiding behind my back.

The day began with a cold, professional task from Mrs. Holloway, she delivered a stack of digitized files not ancient land grants this time, but private household ledgers from the last five years.

"Mr. Vale wants these reconciled by sunset," she said, her eyes lingering on me for a while before leaving.

I worked until my fingers felt numb and my eyes burned. At 6:00pm, I submitted the files via the internal server and then waited for a reply or a summons to the study, but there came nothing. I carried on with other things till night came and went to bed.

The next day was the same. I spent the morning playing with Leo, trying to be the Mommy he deserved, while a part of my brain stayed locked on the elevator door. I sent a follow-up email to Ethan regarding a discrepancy I’d found in the ledgers, a fake excuse just to see if he would respond but still, nothing.

Days bled into weeks, the silence becoming even more agonizing than his touch. I went about my duties like a ghost in his house, cataloguing books in the secondary library, reconciled accounts, and ate the meals Mrs. Holloway delivered in a heavy, oppressive silence.

I saw him only once, from a distance while I was in the courtyard with Leo, letting him run in the fresh air. His black SUV pull into the drive and he stepped out, looking every bit the cold, untouchable titan. He looked toward the garden, his gaze passing over me as if I were part of the landscaping, a hedge or perhaps a statue. He didn't even pause before disappearing into the house.

The rejection stung in a way I didn't want to admit.

It was clear he only used me to satisfy his s****l desires and discarded me afterwards. It shouldn't have surprised me one bit. A man with his wealth, status, looks, and reputation probably had a revolving door of classy women, models, heiresses and ladies who didn't live in his basement. I was a literally just a convenience and a tool he used to scratch a drunken itch.

I told myself I should be relieved, maybe the less he noticed me, the safer I was to investigate. But my body was a traitor.

I found myself reliving every second in that limousine and in his study. I could still feel the way his hands gripped my hips, the raw, guttural sound of his breathing, and the way he’d looked at me right before he entered me. It felt like he had possessed me, leaving a part of himself behind in my brain.

It was a maddening paradox, I wanted to kill him, yet I was counting the minutes until he touched me again. I was trying to trap him, but I was the one who felt caught in a net of my own making.

By the fifteenth day, the frustration turned into a cold, hard resolve. He was avoiding me because he was afraid of the connection or maybe I was thinking too much about this. I’m certain he was bored on those days and I just was the clown used to elevate his mood. Either way, I couldn't let the trail go cold. If he wouldn't summon me, I would have to find a way to make myself impossible to ignore.

If I stayed in this room, I was just going to remain a ghost and not accomplish my mission.

I stood up and walked to the mirror. I looked at the woman staring back, she was tired and pale, but I could still see the fire in her eyes. I wouldn't be just be disposable, I would be the obsession that ruined him.

I waited until the house was silent that night and Leo was sound asleep, I tucked him in properly and kissed his forehead. I didn't wait for a phone call or a command. I undressed completely, grabbed the simplest, thinnest panties I owned, threw a small robe over it, and headed for the elevator.

I wasn't going to the study this time, I was going to his bedroom. If he wanted to avoid me, he’d have to do it to my face.

ETHAN’S POV

I stared at the glass of scotch in my hand, the amber liquid reflecting the dying fire in my hearth. I hadn't slept more than four hours a night since the gala.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt her. The way she’d straddled me in that car and the ferocity with which she’d returned my kiss. it wasn't the behavior of a shy archivist but a woman with a desperate, hidden hunger.

She was a drug I had allowed myself to taste, and now the withdrawal was making me lose my edge. I’d spent the week burying myself in work, hiring a new legal specialist for the merger just to have a different face in front of me. She was a blonde, beautiful, and utterly forgettable. But she didn't have those eyes that looked at me with a mix of hatred and heat that made my blood boil.

I had watched her on the security feeds. I saw her playing with the boy, saw her staring at the elevator door with a look of longing she tried to hide. It sickened me how much I wanted to go to her.

I reached for my laptop, my fingers hovering over the keystrokes to summon her

“No!”

I had to stay disciplined, I was the Titan and I didn't get possessed by my employees. I was drowned in my thoughts till I heard a small knock.

I reached for the remote to the door of my master suite and clicked it open, whoever it was definitely had a good enough reason to bother me at this hour.

I didn’t turn as the door was gently opened and then closed but the air in the room changed instantly. The scent of vanilla filled the space, thick enough to choke on. I knew that scent, it wasn’t Ms Halloway’s or any of the other servants.

"I don't recall summoning you, Miss Collins," I said, my voice like ice, though my pulse had already begun to accelerate.

"I didn't think you were the type to be afraid of a woman, Mr Vale.” her voice came from the shadows, low, steady, and challenging.

I turned the chair slowly, she was standing by the door, a robe pulled tight around her, her hair was down like a dark curtain around her pale face. She was a vision of controlled chaos, trying to melt away the ice I had spent two weeks freezing around my mind.

"Afraid?" I leaned back, my fingers tightening around the crystal glass. "You overestimate your influence, Claire."

"Do I?" she countered.

She didn't wait for an invitation as she walked toward me with a slow, predatory grace that made the air in my lungs feel heavy. Every step was deliberate, the hem of that dark robe swishing against her calves. When she reached my chair, she didn't stop until the heat radiating off her body was a physical weight.

With a boldness that bordered on insanity, she lifted one leg, resting her foot firmly on my thigh. The movement forced the robe to gape, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of her skin. Then, her eyes locked onto mine, extremely dark, challenging, and burning with a fire I had tried to extinguish in my mind. Then she reached for the belt of her robe and pulled the knot.

The heavy fabric slid off her shoulders, pooling on the expensive rug like a discarded skin. She stood there completely naked, save for a thin, black string of lace that did nothing to hide the perfection of her curves. Her breasts were high and firm, the n*****s already peaking in the cool air of the room, and her waist tapered into hips that I knew felt like silk under my palms.

The scotch in my glass swirled dangerously as my hand shook, crumbling before a woman who hadn't even touched me yet.

"I see you’ve been avoiding me, Mr Vale." she whispered, leaning down until her lips were inches from mine. "Is it because you prefer the burn of the alcohol to the burn of me?"

I didn't answer, I just surged out of the chair bridging the agonizing gap between us. I stepped into her space, my height looming over her, until the scent of her vanilla-washed skin was all I could breathe. I reached out, my hand closing around the base of her throat to anchor her. I felt the heavy thrum of her pulse against my palm showing she wasn't even as composed as she pretended to be. It was all an act to see my reaction, and she would definitely be seeing it.

"You think you’re a brave little bird, flying into the lion's den?" I rasped, my thumb grazing the line of her jaw.

"I think you're a man who hides behind desks because you're terrified of what happens when you're actually touched," she countered without flinching. Instead, she leaned back against me, her soft, rounded ass pressing firmly into the front of my trousers, right against the heavy, demanding length of my c**k.

My hands catching her waist and hauling her toward the massive desk in the center of the room. I wasn't gentle at all, two weeks of suppressed hunger exploded out of me like a dam breaking.

A throaty sound escaped my mouth as I let my other hand roam, my fingers splaying across her ribs before sliding upward to capture one of her breasts. They were soft, heavy, and the n****e was a hard peak that pebbled against my palm. I squeezed them hard, a possessive, rough brand, as I leaned down to hiss into her ear.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of when I stop hiding, Claire."

She let out a broken moan, her head falling back against my shoulder, but she didn't stop. She turned her face toward mine, her lips brushing my skin. "Then prove it. Take me right now, Mr Vale.”

The dare snapped the last thread of my restraint as I spun her around, pressing her chest down against the cool, polished wood of the desk. "You want to play games, Claire?" I growled into her ear, my hand tangling in her hair to pull her head back. "Be careful what you ask for."

I reached into the drawer, fumbling for a condom with fingers that felt like lead. I rolled it on with a jagged speed, my eyes never leaving the sight of her arching her back against the desk. She looked like a sacrificial lamb, but the look in her eyes was pure triumph.

I didn't bother taking her panties off, I simply hooked my fingers into the delicate lace and yanked it to the side, exposing her heat. I moved behind her, my body a wall of hard muscle against her soft curves.

"Tell me," I rasped, my breath hot against her neck.

"Do it," she moaned, her fingers clawing at the mahogany.

I entered her in one swift, punishing thrust.

A guttural roar left my throat as she cried out, her body taking all of me, stretching to accommodate the sheer size of my entry. I buried myself deep within her core, the friction so intense it felt like we were both going to catch fire. I began to move, my pace relentless and heavy.

She was on all fours, her head bowed as she took the force of every strike. The sound of our bodies meeting the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin filled the entire room, drowning out the crackle of the fire. I gripped her hips, my thumbs digging into the soft flesh, marking her as mine even as my brain screamed that this was a complete mistake.

"Look at me," I commanded, pulling her hair again until she had to see me in the reflection of the darkened window.

She was beautiful in her ruin, her face looked flushed, her eyes blown wide with a mixture of pain and pleasure that I had authored. I watched her lips part as a series of high, breathless moans escaped her, each one driving me closer to the edge.

I didn't slow down for a second, all I wanted to do was consume her. I wanted to erase memories of the ghosts of the past with the sheer violence of our connection. I drove into her harder, my chest hitting her back with every thrust and my sweat dripping onto her skin.

"Mr Vale, please..." she sobbed, her body beginning to tremble with the onset of a c****x.

"Not yet," I grunted, my teeth grazing her shoulder. “You dared me and here is your punishment. You’ll only c*m when I permit!”

I shifted my grip, sliding one hand under her to find the sensitive bud between her legs, my thumb working in tandem with the rhythm of my hips. It definitely was too much for her, I know, but I wasn’t going to stop because I like the scene before me. She shattered beneath me, her internal muscles pulsing and tightening around me in a desperate, rhythmic clench that finally broke my resolve.

I let out a final, ragged groan, my entire body tensing as I increased my pace and pounded her like a dragon before grabbing her boobs hard and spilling into the latex, my forehead dropping to the space between her shoulder blades. I stayed draped over her back for a long heartbeat, the only sound was the synchronized thud of our hearts and the jagged gasps of air returning to our lungs. I felt the heavy, rhythmic pulse of my release still thrumming inside her, a carnal signature of the possession that had just taken place.

I slowly began to pull out, the wet slide of the latex the only noise in the oppressive silence, when a small knock came at the door.

The sound was calm and seem familiar, it wasn't the heavy hand of a guard or the annoying knock of a servant. It was the precise, measured strike of someone who knew exactly where they are.

"Ms. Collins?"

Mrs. Holloway’s voice cut through the dark suite like a blade.