Chapter Eighty Six

Chapter Eighty Six

Eros

I had barely stepped into the house when the urge to call Athena hit me like a wave. I just wanted to hear her voice again. I’d dropped her off not long ago, and it had torn at me to watch her walk away.

But she wasn’t mine to keep. Not yet. Maybe it was wrong of me to hope her marriage would fall apart, but a man was allowed to wish... to dream, wasn’t he?

I pulled my phone from my pocket, tapped the screen twice to wake it, unlocked it, and hit her number, set on speed dial, of course. It rang once. Twice. Three times. No answer. I tried again. Same result. A knot of worry began to tighten in my chest.

I tracked her phone. To my surprise, it pinged at the Regent Hotel—our latest acquisition under the Belmonte Group umbrella. Brow furrowed, I quickly dialed the hotel’s number. A voice answered on the second ring.

“Good evening. Thank you for calling Regent Hotel. This is Olivia speaking. How may I assist you today?”

“Eros Belmonte,” I said crisply. “I need information on a guest. Did my assistant book a suite this evening?”

“Oh! Mr. Belmonte,” Olivia stammered, clearly caught off guard. “Um... your assistant? Mr. Damon Kline?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. Mrs. Athena Carmichael,” I said, voice tight.

“One moment while I check, sir.” I could hear her typing. A short pause followed. “Yes, she did. She checked in about thirty minutes ago.”

I was already heading back to my car. “How many bags did she have?”

It was probably a stupid question, but I needed to know if this was it—if the final straw had broken her.

“I just started my shift, sir. I’m not sure,” Olivia replied.

“That’s fine. Connect me to her suite. Now.”

“Right away, sir.”

As I waited for the transfer, I connected my phone to the car’s Bluetooth, turned the ignition, and sped out of the driveway, the gates swinging open as I flew through them, my heart pounding harder with each second.

\~~~~

I didn’t even need to knock twice.

The door creaked open, slow and hesitant, and there she was—Athena. Her eyes were red, her lips pressed into a thin line as if holding in everything she couldn’t afford to let spill out. She didn’t say a word. Just stepped back and let me in.

I walked past her into the room, the weight of her silence pressing against my back. It was a suite, but it looked nothing like one. Her bags were carelessly flung in a corner, the bed untouched. She’d clearly been crying—her skin was blotchy, and I noticed a faint swelling along her jaw.

My fists clenched.

“What the hell happened?” I turned to her, my voice lower than I intended, but steady. She didn’t respond immediately. She just leaned against the door after shutting it, like her legs were too tired to carry her any further.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” I countered, taking a step closer. “Athena, look at me. Did he hit you?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

My chest tightened. Rage, cold and steady, pulsed beneath my skin. I could feel the blood draining from my hands as I imagined Lysander’s face—imagined smashing my fist into it. Repeatedly.

She finally spoke, voice rough, almost brittle. “I left him.”

I blinked. “You what?”

“I packed my bags. Walked out.” She shrugged like it meant nothing, but I knew the weight those words carried. Knew how much strength it took for someone like her to say goodbye to something she’d tried so hard to make work. “I’m done.”

I exhaled slowly, watching her. “You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” I echoed, my voice sharper than I meant. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “Athena, you’re never a bother. Never.”

Something in her eyes wavered. Her walls didn’t break—they never did all at once—but a crack formed. Small. Real.

“Come here,” I said quietly, opening my arms.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then she walked into my chest like she belonged there, burying her face in my shoulder. She was shaking, trying to hold it together, but I held her tight, tighter than I ever had before.

She didn’t cry. Not this time. Maybe she couldn’t. But I could feel the storm inside her anyway.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And I meant it.

Because for all the years I spent pretending I didn’t feel this deeply for her, I’d always known: if she ever broke, I’d be the one picking up the pieces. Not out of duty. Not out of pity.

But because I loved her.

Still do.

She didn’t pull away.

We stood there for what felt like hours, pressed together in the dim hotel suite, the silence between us louder than any argument we’d ever had. Her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of my jacket, as if anchoring herself to something - someone that still made sense.

“You can stay,” she whispered eventually, her voice so quiet I almost missed it. “Just for tonight. Please.”

I didn’t need convincing.

She fell asleep on my chest, curled up beside me in the bed like she’d been holding her breath for years and could finally exhale. I didn’t sleep. I just held her.

And in the quiet, I made a silent promise: I would burn the entire city down before I let her go back to that man.

The next day

I woke to the sound of soft breathing against my neck. Athena was still asleep, her fingers loosely gripping mine under the sheets. The morning light filtering through the curtains caught the strands of her hair, turning them gold.

For a moment, everything felt right.

Then I remembered Lysander—and the bruise on her jaw. I’d asked for an ice pack, hoping to ease the swelling. It had helped, but the mark was still there—proof that she’d taken a hit to the face.

Carefully, I eased away from her sleeping form, tucked the covers around her, and slipped out of the suite. I wasn’t the kind of man who let anger cloud his judgment.

But today wasn’t just any day.

I went home, took a quick shower, changed, and drove straight to his firm.