Chapter 108 Inappropriate
“Be obedient,” Byron said, voice low. “Don’t bring up that night again.”
He paused, then added more softly, “Just… show me a little mercy.”
Athena’s eyes narrowed.
“Mr. Crawford, don’t do that.”
She couldn’t bear it anymore.
How could he stand there, sounding vulnerable, when he had taken advantage of her?
That night had changed everything. He had enjoyed the tenderness, the intimacy—but for her, it had come at a cost. She had been in danger, overwhelmed, and utterly exposed. And now he wanted sympathy?
“You’ve been acting strange lately,” she said sharply. “I can’t tell whether it’s because of Miss Holland or…”
She looked at him, eyes cold, words cutting.
“Have you fallen in love with me?”
Byron froze.
Athena let out a short laugh. The idea was absurd.
He had made it clear from the start—she was just a substitute. A placeholder for the woman he truly loved. He had never lied to her about that.
And now?
Now he was trying to blur the lines.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a tight smile, pushing against his chest as she tried to slide off the table.
But then he asked, “If I fell in love with you… what would you do?”
Her breath caught. She looked at him, startled.
Byron moved in, hands braced on either side of her. He leaned close, searching her face.
“Answer me. If I love you, will you stay?”
Athena instinctively leaned back, her gaze darting away from his. She couldn’t let him see the truth in her eyes.
“There’s no if,” she said, her tone sharp. “You don’t love me.”
But he didn’t back off. Instead, he caught her waist and gently pulled her forward again. His fingers brushed her cheek as he turned her head toward him.
“How do you know I don’t?”
Athena’s lips curled into a mocking smile.
“If you did…” Her voice was quiet, but steady. “I would’ve felt it.”
Byron blinked. Her words cut deeper than anything else she could’ve said.
“I should go,” she muttered. “Miss Ross is outside. It’s inappropriate for me to be alone with you.”
She made a move to leave, but Byron caught her wrist.
And kissed her.
Athena stiffened, her breath caught in her throat.
The room wasn’t fully private—half the door was glass, and there was a large window facing the meadow. Anyone could walk by at any moment.
“Byron—” she gasped, pushing against him.
But he didn’t let go. His lips moved with desperate frustration, his hands trembling as they touched her.
He was angry. Torn. Lost.
She could feel it in the way he held her—possessive, but wounded.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged. Athena was panting too, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her shirt was partially undone, her composure in shreds.
Then, as if something snapped inside him, Byron buried his face in the crook of her neck.
“Are you insane?” she hissed under her breath, voice tight with panic and fury.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his mouth found her shoulder, and he bit down—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to sting.
Athena winced. “That hurts…”
Her voice trembled with anger, but also something else—fear. Confusion.
Byron finally pulled back. He looked at her, eyes burning, then down at the red mark he had left on her skin.
He reached up, his fingers brushing the spot gently. Then he bent down and kissed her lips again, this time slower, quieter.
“I told you,” he murmured against her skin, “Miss Ross is outside. But if that was inappropriate…”
He looked her in the eyes, his voice dropping.
“What about now?”