Page 30 of Breaking the Annulment

Instead, she turned sharply, her bare feet whispering against the cool marble as she retreated to the sanctuary of her own bedroom. The familiar walls closed around her like a shield, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, pressing her hands against her temples.

Think, Aurelia. You have to think.

She exhaled shakily, but the quiet offered no solace. Her mind replayed every word he’d said, every glance, every brush of his fingers.Agápe mou.My love.The words wound tightly around her, blurring the lines between what she wanted and what she was afraid to admit.

For now, all she could do was stay in her room and let the world slow down, hoping the boundaries she clung to wouldn't crumble before she could rebuild them.

Later that evening, dressed once more in her black dress, now much shorter and less conspicuous, Aurelia stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of the sea. She leaned against the railing, her gaze drifting toward the horizon, where the stars stretched endlessly over the dark expanse of the estate.

Her thoughts turned to the Boss 429 Mustang waiting in Houston, her lifeline to freedom if she ever decided to leave. She could picture it clearly—the glossy black paint, the roar of its engine, the way it had always felt like a promise of escape.

She could leave. With a little planning, she could escape again, disappear, vanish from Michalis’s world forever and start a new life somewhere else. The Mustang was fast enough, quiet enough, to carry her far beyond his reach. But the thought didn’t fill her with the same certainty it once had.

Her fingers brushed the diamond ring, still on her finger. Michalis made her feel things she didn’t want to feel—powerless and exhilarated, trapped and desired. He was controlling, infuriating, but there was something about the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, that left her questioning everything.

What did she want? Freedom? Or something else? Something she couldn’t name, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit.

With a sigh, she turned and walked back inside, the cool air clinging to her skin. She slid beneath the covers of her bed, pulling them up to her chin as she stared at the ceiling. The villa was quiet, but her thoughts were loud, spinning endlessly as she tried to make sense of the emotions warring within her.

The ring caught the moonlight, its brilliance a stark reminder of the man who had placed it on her finger—and the decision she wasn’t ready to make.

13

Two weeks later

The days slippedby in an uneasy rhythm. Aurelia continued to sleep in her own bedroom, her choice a quiet but firm act of defiance that gnawed at Michalis. Yet during the daylight hours, something about her had shifted—her sharp edges softened, her words no longer brimming with hostility. He caught glimpses of a woman who almost seemed to enjoy his company, though she still refused to admit it outright. That restraint—her refusal to give in completely—stoked his frustration like a slow-burning fire.

The storm that had been brewing all day was now a tempest, rain lashing against the windows and wind howling through the estate’s long corridors. Michalis felt a tension he couldn’t shake, a primal worry that drove him toward the security hub. His thoughts lingered on Aurelia as he strode through the quiet halls, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t fully articulate. By the time he reached the monitors, the unease in his chest had solidified into a need to see her for himself.

The security camera monitor caught Michalis’s attention as it switched into night vision mode. His eyes narrowed as he watched the subtle movements of Aurelia in her room. He knew she wasn’t aware of the cameras—knew she didn’t realize he had the ability to watch her whenever he chose. They were there for security before she arrived, and he wasn’t going to remove them just to protect her privacy.

Tonight, he was watching closely, his protective instincts having steadily risen to the fore as the storm worsened with every passing hour, the wind howling against the mansion's walls. She’d been fidgeting all evening, her nerves stretched tighter and tighter as the evening progressed, pacing back and forth, wringing her hands. He shouldn’t care, he told himself. It was just a storm, and she wasn’t a child who needed comforting. She would be fine. She was finally in her bed, attempting to go to sleep, her body slowly relaxing despite the storm raging outside.

He was about to turn the monitor off when her hand slowly moved, slipping under the thin blanket that covered her. He could see the movement under the blanket as her fingers trailed slowly down. At first, he thought she was just shifting, trying to get comfortable. But then she moved again, her hand sinking a little lower, and his pulse quickened.

She wiggled beneath the sheet for a moment, then tossed a pair of panties across the room.

Michalis sat forward, every muscle tensing, a hot rush of blood pooling low as he realized what was about to happen. If he was a better man, he would turn the camera off and give her the privacy she deserved. He snorted. Fuck that. He never claimed to be a good man, or even a decent one.

He zoomed in, tracking her every movement, then switched on the audio just in time to hear Aurelia’s breath hitch as she shifted, the blanket moving slightly to reveal the curve of her body. Her lips parted as she whispered something, but it was toofaint for him to catch. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to hear her—he could see the outline of her knees, tenting the blanket. He watched, blood pounding in his veins, as her knees slowly opened wider, sinking almost to the mattress.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. He was no fool. He knew exactly what was happening. She was starting to touch herself—not in a quick, distracted way, but with deliberate slowness. His eyes darkened as he watched her, unable to tear himself away. Her breathing deepened, and the soft sound of her sighs carried through the silence as she picked up the tempo.

Lost in the act, her body was responding to whatever fantasy she was having. And with every breath she took, every movement of her hand, his body reacted, tightening to the point of pain.

She began making noises, a small sigh, a moan, a soft cry–quickly stifled–as if she was afraid a louder noise would draw someone to the door.

Her breaths became more ragged, and without conscious thought, his own breathing picked up, syncing with hers, his entire being completely immersed in what she was doing, nearly as affected as she.

His hand tightened around the edge of the desk as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. There was something so raw and intimate about watching her. Her body was beautiful, vulnerable and open, with no artifice; she hid nothing. There was no pretense, no anger, no holding back.

Another soft cry escaped her lips.

"Michalis…"

His name on her lips hit him like a physical blow. He jerked back, stunned, his mind running wild with the implications. The truth struck him like a bolt of lightning.She’s put me in her fantasy.

“Yes…” She moaned again.

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