Athena’s POV
“I should leave before I change my mind.”
The thought echoed, fragile and fraying, as I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the hotel’s pristine white sheets. The early morning light filtered in through sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the floor, the walls, the twisted bedspread. But it couldn’t warm the cold sinking in my chest.
I shouldn’t have stayed this long.
The man lying beside me was still asleep, his breathing slow and deep. One arm stretched carelessly over the pillow where I’d once been, the other resting low across his abdomen. The sheet had slipped down to his hips, baring the chiseled planes of his torso—bronzed skin stretched over lean, powerful muscle. He looked like something out of a dream. A sin carved by the Goddess herself.
His dark hair was a mess of waves, falling over his brow, wild and beautiful. Shadows clung to the hollows of his face, and for a brief moment, he looked soft. Human. But even in sleep, there was something raw beneath the surface—dangerous and electric, like a storm just waiting to break.
And then there was me.
Wrapped in the same sheet, naked beneath it, my body still ached from the night we shared. My thighs were sore. My lips swollen. And between my legs, I could still feel the burn, the tenderness. The proof of what I’d done.
I looked down.
A faint smear of blood stained the sheet. Stark. Crimson. Undeniable.
I’d given away something I never thought I would—not to someone I loved, not to someone who promised forever. But to a stranger. A beautiful, powerful stranger. An escort my best friend had hired to help me forget.
I was supposed to feel empowered.
Instead, I felt... lost.
My pulse ticked steadily in my ears as I stood, the sheet dragging across the floor, trailing behind me like guilt. The air smelled faintly of sex and expensive cologne, and something else—something sharp. Regret.
This was a mistake.
Not because he was a stranger. Not because I’d lost my virginity to someone who wouldn’t remember my name in a week.
But because for one night, I let myself pretend I was someone else. Someone worthy of tenderness. Of desire. Of being touched like I mattered.
And now, in the soft hush of morning, I was nothing again.
I bit my lip, my fingers twitching as I fought the ridiculous urge to reach out and trace the sharp edge of his jawline.
I hadn’t even asked for his name, because it didn’t matter.
No strings. No regrets.
That’s what I told myself last night.
And yet, as I reached into my bag, pulling out a handful of crisp bills, something twisted painfully inside me. I placed the money on the nightstand, my throat tightening.
Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I slipped out of the bed, grabbed my clothes, and left.
I didn’t look back.