Chapter 2

Camille Laurent

Hades, my most hated boss, the man who dragged me here without explanation, who barely speaks to me, who treats me as if I were invisible tonight, is with a woman right now.

Tall, blonde, perfect, the kind who looks as though he stepped off a magazine cover.

But he… he's not the Adrian Vale I know at the office. He's not the distant man who barely raises his voice because the rest of us mortals shouldn't even be allowed to hear his heavenly baritone. Adrian isn't just sleeping with a woman.

He controls her. He directs her.

My breathing quickens and my heart pounds in my ears. I should back away, I should turn around, run away and pretend I never saw anything, but I don't. My legs won't respond. Neither will my eyes. And the worst part is that I feel a heat spreading through my body, an uncomfortable, treacherous tingling.

The blonde's wrists are tied to the headboard with a leather strap. his body arches, trembling beneath him, her dress hanging half-torn. Adrian's hand on her neck is firm, marking his territory, and the other digs into her waist to keep her still.

"Look at me." His voice is low, harsh, brimming with authority.

It's not a plea, it's an order. One she obeys instantly, his eyes fixed on his, breathing heavily.

"That's it… good girl. Don't move."

His tone is so controlled it gives me goosebumps. It's as if every word she utters is meant to dominate and strip away any resistance. And she, completely submissive, moans as if this surrender were pure pleasure.

I feel like I'm burning up. Wet heat pools between my thighs and I can't stop it.

"When I tell you to open your mouth, you do it. When I tell you to shut up, you do that too. Here, the rules are mine, understood?" He lowers his voice even more, almost a growl.

The woman nods desperately, and he barely smiles, satisfied.

I have to move away before he sees me spying, but I can't. I'm rooted to the spot, trembling, staring at a version of Hades I never imagined: dark, commanding, dangerous.

And the worst part is, it turns me on. It turns me on so much that I hate myself for it.

"What the hell, Camille? Control those damn hormones."

That's not my prim and proper Adrian; he's just embodied Hades himself, the very devil I invoke every day because of him. That's a man who commands with his body and his voice. A man no one dares say no to.

And for a second, just one damned second, I imagine myself being the one who obeys.

"Don't mess with me, get out of here."

A moan from her jolts me awake. I back away immediately, nearly tripping over the wine cart as I stampede to the door. I slip out of the cabin quietly, or so I hope, my pulse racing and my throat dry.

I run desperately to the room I occupied in the afternoon when we arrived, close the door and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.

"Did I just get turned on watching Adrian Vale with another woman?" I shake my head. "No. Impossible. It's the wine. The tiredness. The pent-up anger. Anything but that."

I don't sound convinced, but that doesn't matter. Maybe if I repeat it enough, it will become true.

I open the bottle I hid and pour myself a glass. I need to forget the image that's etched in my mind.

Not working.

I finish the wine and go straight to the bathroom.

"You need a cold shower, for crying out loud. Not even the devil is as filthy as you, Camille," I grumble, as I quickly undress and step under the shower, the cold water hitting my shoulders.

I scream. This temperature is more than I can stand. I rub my skin as if I can tear that image from my head, but it's still there.

His voice, his hand on that woman's neck, the way she obeyed as if nothing else existed.

And if I let myself dwell on this new obsession and do the math, that woman had been in that bed for hours, tied up and waiting for him. I didn't see her arrive, and I don't think he even had time to tie one of her hands before I arrived with the wine.

"Oh my God. This is too much."

I step out wrapped in my robe and pour myself another glass of wine. I drink it in one gulp, then another. The heat doesn't go away, it only intensifies. And I hate myself for it.

I collapse onto the bed. I could blame the heat in my skin on the steam from the shower, but that's not why I'm like this; I showered with freezing cold water. But no matter how hard I try, I can't get what I saw out of my head.

And I'm horny, damn it.

That woman, surrendered to him, obedient, as if there were no other option but to please him.

I close my eyes and catch myself going over every detail. I'm giving up, and that makes me pout, but it doesn't stop me.

"I shouldn't. God, I shouldn't."

But my hand is already slipping under my robe, seeking relief from this relentless heat. I barely touch myself and I'm already trembling. The dampness I feel is so strange, so humiliating, that a moan escapes me, low and stifled. Frustrated and excited in equal measure.

I'm beginning to understand that I won't be able to stop when a sharp sound is heard at the door. I freeze. My heart pounds in my throat, and in my temples too.

"Damn, who the hell is…"

The door opens and I stifle a squeal. My hand darts out from under my robe as soon as I see him walk in as though the room belongs to him. His steps are confident, his gaze fixed on me. I'm naked beneath the plush fabric that barely covers me, touching myself, thinking about what I just saw, and what I see in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what I was doing.

"Damn Hades."

I open my mouth to ask him what he's doing here, but his eyes stop at the open bottle on the table.

"I see you've found a way to entertain yourself." He doesn't say it reproachfully. He says it with a neutrality that disconcerts me more than a shout.