Grey lifted his eyes, as though he had only found the courage after Jethro looked away.
But after he spoke without a thought, Jethro turned back slowly, his movements unhurried, and only when his gaze fully settled on Grey did he speak.
"What exactly don't you want to do?" he asked. "You don't think the same way those Alphas do, that this is an actual marriage, do you?"
Grey couldn't answer, because when Jethro turned fully toward him, his gaze had locked onto Jethro's and held him there, leaving him frozen in place.
His eyes had only met Jethro's for the very first time, and the pull was immediate and unforgiving.
His gaze was a clear, cold blue, set beneath a straight brow. Long dark lashes framed that merciless stare, only making it harder to endure, but still held him in place, unable to look away even as his instincts screamed at him to lower his eyes.
His heart thudded violently in his chest, pounding for reasons he didn't understand but felt in every fiber of his being.
"Have you suddenly gone mute?" Jethro asked, a slight frown forming on his face. It was not out of confusion at Grey's sudden silence, but with the quiet irritation of someone who felt his time was being wasted.
But at that point, Grey's mind had gone blank, he couldn't remember what he wanted to say. All that remained in his mind was the echo of the words he had just spoken: I don't want to do it.
The silence stretched unbearably.
He wanted to say something, just... anything, to end it. And once again, without his permission, the words slipped from his mouth, undoing what he had said before.
"I want to do it."
He hated them the instant they were spoken, hated himself for how foolish he must have sounded.
He pressed his lips together, refusing to speak again, afraid that every additional word would only make him seem more ridiculous in front of Jethro. His gaze drifted away, and his fingers clenched at his sides.
He waited for the questions and the judgment, for the sharp remark that would confirm just how foolish he looked.
But nothing came. Instead, Jethro simply turned and walked away in silence.
It was worse than any scolding could have been, because Grey wanted to know what Jethro thought of him now that he had acted that foolishly.
"Fck!" He cursed under his breath.
Just as his mind threatened to spiral further, two maids and two men in guard uniforms entered the courtroom moments after Jethro stepped out.
"This way," one maid said with a slight bow, gesturing toward the exit as though Grey couldn't see it himself.
He followed without a word or hesitation, too exhausted to embarrass himself any further. He let himself be led out of the courtroom and through the mansion's hallways.
The courtroom was only one part of it, a grand chamber inside a palace built on wealth and power.
As they led him through the mansion's hallways, Grey couldn't help noticing how the floors gleamed with polished marble, patterned with lines of gold.
Massive columns stretched along the halls, rising toward crystal chandeliers that scattered light like tiny stars.
The walls were draped in rich tapestries showing battles, victories, and the lineage of the Enigmas.
They passed room after room, each more lavish than the last. Tables of solid gold held vases filled with exotic flowers.
Servants moved quietly around them, bowing and curtsying with practiced ease, the mansion alive with silent order.
The packhouse back home was nothing like this, not even close.
Finally, they reached the staircases, dozens of them, twisting in grand arcs in every direction, leading to the mansion's private wings.
Grey's legs ached as they began the climb. He gripped the railing, dragging himself upward.
After a short walk, one of the maids stopped at a door. "This will be your room," she said softly, pushing it open.
The door swung wide to reveal a space as extravagant as the mansion itself: high ceilings with golden cornices, polished floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers, and windows draped in heavy velvet embroidered with silver thread.
Outside, the gardens stretched as far as he could see, so perfectly manicured they almost seemed unreal.
"This phone," the other maid said, gesturing to the bedside table, where a sleek, fancy office phone sat, "All you need to do is dial, and the call will go straight to the manager. Whatever you need will arrive in a few moments." She spoke with calm efficiency.
Grey nodded, forcing himself to remain composed, even though he felt like he had stepped into some heavenly realm and just wanted to shout about it.
The two maids and the guards stood side by side, bowed lightly, and then left without another word.
Only then did Grey allow himself to breathe, a shaky, uneven breath that carried the weight of exhaustion and disbelief.
He stepped forward, letting himself sink onto the enormous bed. It was the kind of bed a king might sleep in, wide and soft, with layers of plush sheets and blankets that seemed to cradle him in luxury.
A sound... half sigh, half gasp, escaped his lips as the bed seemed to melt away the tension in his muscles.
His eyes closed involuntarily, and he allowed himself to simply feel it all: the warmth, the softness, the indulgent quiet of the room.
~
But the next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake.
His eyes opened slightly, and the light spilling through the slightly parted curtains wasn't the dusky glow of evening, it was bright, clear morning light.
His eyes snapped open, and he sat upright instantly, "What time is it?" he asked, his voice sharp with disbelief.
"10:03 a.m.," came a man's voice.
Grey froze at the voice because he had expected a maid, not a man,
He seemed like someone around his age, but slightly taller, broader, more muscular.
The man's appearance was striking in a way that made Grey stare longer that he should have.
The man's eyes were a clear, piercing blue... so reminiscent of Lord Jethro's, and his black hair fell casually around his neck.
For a moment, Grey blinked, caught off guard, almost comparing him to Jethro.
He almost questioned who the man was, but he told himself that - that didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was the time.. and how much he had slept.
The last thing he remembered, he had been awake at four in the afternoon yesterday, tasked with writing a report and recommendations for his pack.
It had to be delivered by eight in the morning. And now it was past ten. He hadn't delivered the report. He didn't have it.
"Lord Jethro wants to see you in his office," the man said, almost casually, the words landing on Grey like a blow.
Grey's mind went blank for a second. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, feeling grimy and disheveled.
He wanted to freshen up, he really needed it, but did he even have time?
Still, he swung his legs off the bed and headed for the bathroom. He told himself that if he was going to be thrown out of the mansion for being lazy and sleepy instead of doing what had brought him there in the first place, then he wasn't going to leave without at least reaching the bathroom and enjoying the luxury of the tubs and the warm, inviting water.
..the simple joy of washing off yesterday's grime.
"I'll be there in a minute," he called to the man and then disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.