Page 116 of Ruthless God

And somehow, that hurts more than any rejection ever could.

24

Cecely

I don’t even get the honor of being walked back to the house. No lingering touch. No stolen glance. Nothing.

Instead, he shoves the basket into my hands without a word. Then, before I can even process it, he turns and jogs toward the helipad. Still barefoot. Still in nothing but those damn swim shorts. Like he doesn’t care. Like I was just another moment to leave behind.

Something inside me twists.

I should call out after him. Demand he stop. Face me. Say something. Anything.

But I don’t.

I just stand there, clutching the stupid basket, watching him disappear into the night.

When it’s clear he’s not coming back, I turn and head toward the house.

It looms ahead, feeling emptier than it should. Lonelier. Like all the warmth from earlier has been sucked out of it.

I don’t think about that. I won’t.

Instead, a thought crosses my mind. Maybe I should take advantage of Claudius being gone. If he’s really going to bring my sperm donor here, then this might be the last time I’ll have any freedom. The last time I’ll be alone. Well, alone-ish. If I don’t count the stolen women. And Agnes.

My chest tightens at the thought, but I push it aside. If there’s a time to look for the mysterious basement Leyla mentioned… it’s now. And I need to know what’s down there.

Reaching the front door, I leave the basket in the entryway and slip inside. First things first. I need a shower. There’s sand in places I don’t want to talk about. And if I’m going to go snooping in Claudius’ house, I might as well do it clean.

It’s strange being in Claudius’ room without him here. The space feels different, like it belongs to someone else entirely now that he’s gone. Part of me wonders if I made a mistake moving my things in here. What? We share two days of great sex, and suddenly I think I know the man?

I shake my head.

Maybe I’m more like my mother than I think.

The thought unsettles me, so I shove it down. Packing everything back up would take too long. And honestly? I’m too stubborn to backtrack now. Instead, I strip off my clothes, padding naked to the bathroom, letting the steam from the shower wash away everything. The sand. The salt. The feeling of being left behind.

When I step out, I dress quickly in leggings and a t-shirt, my hair still damp. At the last second, I slide on sneakers. Because if I really do find the basement door, I have no idea what I might walk into. And something tells me I should be ready for anything.

I take a steadying breath, glancing around Claudius’ room one last time. Then, I step out. The house is quiet. I listen forany sounds. Footsteps, voices, the distant hum of movement. Nothing. I’m alone. For now.

I move carefully, keeping my steps light, my pulse pounding with every turn down the dimly lit corridors, going to the first floor. If there’s a basement, it has to be somewhere hidden. Somewhere tucked away and forgotten. I start methodically, searching room by room, hallway by hallway, looking for anything out of place. A locked door. A passageway leading down. A shadow where there shouldn’t be one.

The air feels heavier as I move deeper into the house, as if the walls themselves are watching. Waiting. I pass the library, the study, the dining room. Nothing. I press forward. Through the east wing, past rooms I’ve never even stepped foot in. Still nothing. My frustration builds, but I push it down. This house is too big. Too old. There has to be a way down. Maybe it’s outside?

And then I spot it. A narrow door, partially hidden by a large armoire. One I never noticed before. I step closer, my breath catching. It’s different from the others. No ornate carvings. No polished brass handle. Just plain. Simple. Unassuming. Like it’s meant to be ignored.

But I see it now. And something deep in my gut tells me I just found what I was looking for. The basement.

“What are you doing down here?”

The voice snaps through the dimly lit hallway like a whip. I spin, my heartbeat jumping as I come face-to-face with Agnes. She’s not in her usual uniform. Instead, she’s wearing a robe, her hair slightly disheveled like she wasn’t expecting to be interrupted. Like she was already down here. Close to the basement. Is her room down here?

I school my expression, masking my racing thoughts. “I thought I heard something.”

Lie.

Her sharp gaze narrows. “You didn’t. Return to your room. Now.”

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