Black Mamba — Caleb’s massive yacht.

Black. Glossy. Like a predator. It doesn’t just sail — it owns the sea.
Mamba mirrors Caleb perfectly: weakness is forbidden.
Power. Absolute confidence.
The hull shines like it isn’t washed — it’s licked clean. The staff literally tremble over every single speck. One wipes the railings, another checks the reflection in the glass, a third is already nervously scanning to see whether a microscopic trace of salt has settled anywhere.
“I think they kill the fish on the way so they don’t dirty the yacht,” Hades drawled lazily.
I laughed.
“Yeah, probably. And the seagulls too. Just in case.”

The Greek sun lies across the deck like hot gold. The sea is thick, azure, like someone poured paint into it.
I decided to touch up my makeup. Sat down in front of the mirror — light tan, a bit of gloss on my lips, mascara.
Footsteps behind me.
“Darling, where are you going?”
I lifted my chin slightly, not taking my eyes off the mirror.
“I’m flying to the surgery.”
Pause.
“Logan will be operating. He might need my help. Besides, I want to film his first procedure.”
In the reflection — tension along his shoulders.
“But he’s still learning. How can they even let him into an operating room?”
I turned around.
“Sam invited him.”
And that’s when I lit up. Deliberately. For real.
Pride — warm, dense, maternal. I’m insanely proud of Logan.
He’s not just “a boy with ambitions.” He’s stepping into cold light, sterility, and responsibility that weighs as much as a life. And he was invited there.
Black Mamba cuts through the water slowly. Caleb is silent. The sea roars.
I think luxury is watching someone beside you become more than they were yesterday.
“And the yacht, Hades.”
“Exactly.”
I laughed and stood up.
Caleb’s fingers closed around my elbow.
“Darling… I need you here.”
I turned my head slowly. Very slowly.
“What do you mean — ‘need’?”
He changed his tone. His voice grew softer. Lower. More dangerous.
“Please. Don’t leave. Stay with me.”
He stepped closer, like he didn’t want to restrain me — but persuade me with his body. His fingers slid higher along my arm. Warm skin. Sun. The scent of expensive cologne.
A gentle kiss on my neck.
I pulled my hand away.
“Did you hear me? I said I’m going. The helicopter will pick me up in twelve minutes.”
His face changed. Not sharply — but enough. The softness vanished. A hard line of jaw remained.
“I need you. So you stay. It will be as I said.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“If you plan to hold me or force me into sex — that’s violence.”
He spread his hands.
“I wouldn’t call it that, darling. No need to dramatize. I just want you near me.”
“Caleb,” I looked straight into his eyes, “that’s called manipulation — and the violence that follows.”
Pause.
“You’ll manage on your own.”
I turned toward the exit. My heels clicked softly against the deck.
He was instantly beside me again. Fingers back on my elbow.
“Are you going dressed like that?”
I looked at myself. Top. Mini skirt. Tanned legs.
“Yes. What’s wrong with it?”
His jaw tightened.
“There’ll be a bunch of men there.”
I slowly lifted my gaze.
“So?”
“Are you planning to sleep with them?”
I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll jerk off the security on the way there, right? That’s what I’m like, isn’t it?”
I stepped forward.
“Darling…”
He blocked my path.
That’s when I started getting angry.
“Move. And don’t piss me off. You’re exhausting.”
“Angel,” he hissed through his teeth, “you’re not going anywhere.”
Silence. Even the sea seemed to go quiet.
I looked at him. Calm. No smile.
Then I shrugged.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
He froze for a second.
You could almost see it — the picture in his head rearranging itself. Analysis. Then a smile. Confident. Almost victorious.
“I’m so glad you changed your mind, darling.”
I smiled back. Soft. Almost tender.
“I’m tired. I don’t want to fight. Want some whiskey?”
He stepped closer. Too close. The heat of his body, salt on his skin, the sun still caught in his hair.
“Darling, I don’t want whiskey…”
His lips touched my neck. Not rough. Insistent. As if he already believed the outcome was settled.
“Just a sip,” I murmured.
I poured for both of us. The amber liquid flashed in the glass. I handed him his drink, lips slightly parted in almost childlike plea.
“Please…”
He drank quickly. Irritated. As if he gave in not to me, but to circumstance.
The glass flew aside — a dull thud against the deck.
“One kiss…” his hand settled on my waist. “And another.”
Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at my watch.
And I saw it — a microscopic delay in his movements.
A little slower.
A little less focused.
“Oh… faster than I expected.”
At first he didn’t understand. He just blinked. Like sudden fatigue hit him in a wave.
Then his gaze sharpened.
“Fuck…” he narrowed his eyes. “Did you put something in my drink?”
I widened my eyes in surprise.
“Me? Of course not.”
He tried to step forward — and swayed slightly. Not dramatically. But enough for his confidence to crack.
I stepped back calmly.
Stood straight.
No rush. No panic. No excuses.
I simply turned and walked toward the exit.

14:31.
The operating room door burst open like a storm from the Aegean Sea walking in uninvited.
Caleb.
Furious. Face red. Rage burning through him.
I quickly apologized to everyone, touched the assistant’s elbow, and led him into the corridor.
White walls. Cold light. The smell of antiseptic.
Caleb paced back and forth like a beast in a cage too small for him.
“You drugged me. And ran. Without even asking me.”
I laughed. Not loudly. But enough to cut.
“Yes, big boss. I didn’t ask. I’m not your pet.”
He stopped.
And suddenly — completely unexpectedly — dropped to his knees.
“Fuck… I’m terrified. Please. Don’t ever do that again.”
“Is he schizophrenic?” Hades whispered somewhere inside.
I smiled.
Yeah.
I bent down. Grabbed Caleb by the jaw, forcing his face up.
“If you ever dare to order me around again,” I said quietly, “I’ll poison you, and you bastard will die very slowly. Copper works very specifically on men, you fucking goat.”
My voice was ragged with anger.
Caleb looked up at me — rage mixed with fear of losing control.
“Whatever you say, darling,” he whispered and lunged to kiss my hands.
That move wasn’t about love. It was about trying to take power back.
“You sick bastard.”
I jerked my hand away.
The slap rang out — sharp and dry.
“Fuck off.”
I turned and left him in the corridor with his pride.
I went back into the operating room.
The procedure wasn’t complicated, but for Logan — it was his first real one. His hands trembled slightly at the beginning. He was trying too hard to breathe evenly.
I stood beside him. Calm.
“You’ll manage,” I said quietly.
He nodded.
The minutes dragged. Then the sutures. Careful. A little slower than an experienced surgeon — but steady.
When he finished stitching the wound — tired, sweaty, drained — I lit up.
And even clapped softly.
Sam snorted.
I raised my hands.
“Sorry, sorry.”
Logan stepped away and went to change.
I walked out into the corridor.
Caleb was standing near the exit. Subdued. Controlled. Too quiet for a man like him.
I stepped closer. Smiled.
And grabbed his jaw again — softer this time.
“Good boy.”
He licked his lips almost imperceptibly. Jealousy was still boiling in his eyes, but now it was contained. Under control. Under my control.
At that moment the door opened.
Logan came out — jeans, shirt, hair slightly messy from the surgical cap. Tired. Glowing. Real.
I lit up.
God, he’s handsome.
I walked over, kissed his hair, wrapped him in a gentle hug.
“Darling, I’m so proud of you. You did so well.”
He blushed.
“Thank you…”
I looked at him more closely — his hands weren’t shaking anymore. In his eyes — fatigue, but also quiet pride.
“Mike will drive you to the apartments. The plane will take you home tomorrow. Please, darling, make sure you’re ready for the weekend.”
He nodded. Still slightly embarrassed.
I turned to Sam.
“Thank you for letting him do it.”
Sam hugged me back. Briefly. Friendly.
The air grew dense. Almost like in a fight club.
Men. Tension. Contained emotion.
Caleb stood a little apart.
Red as a bull.
Jesus… how can someone be this jealous.
I looked at him and said calmly:
“I need to pee.”
Caleb gave a short nod.
He understood it wasn’t a request.
It was a decision.
I stepped into a stall.
And pulled him in with me.
Still angry, he bit me.
“Ow, you bastard!”
I slapped him.
He smiled.
And reached for me.
“My little angel.”
I laughed.
You’re such a sick bastard.
“Not even close, darling.”
I laughed again.
He turned serious and grabbed my hips.
I yelped in pain.
“You fucking goat!”
I bent my leg and kicked him with such fury that Caleb flew out of the stall.
I grabbed a vase with artificial flowers and started hitting him with it.
Caleb was laughing.
What an asshole.
In rage, I ripped the hairdryer off its cord and started beating him with it.
“You fucking bastard, I’m not a piece of meat! Careful. Gentler, you goat!”
Caleb was on his knees, eyebrow split, blood from his mouth.
Fuck.
I threw the hairdryer away.
And tried to step back.
Caleb instantly used my hesitation.
He slammed me against the wall.
And yanked up my skirt.
At the same time trying to unbuckle his belt.
I drove my knee into him.
“Scumbag.”
And kicked him again.
Caleb staggered.
I cursed.
I weigh 51 kilos.
Caleb almost 87.
Devil.
He jumped up and pinned me to the wall again.
I screamed.
“Ow!”
“Bastard!”
And blood started running from my nose.
My eyes filled with tears.
Caleb changed instantly.
He took my face in his hands.
“My little angel…”
I cried and pushed him.
“Darling, my little mouse… angel…”
Tears were running down Caleb’s face.
“My gentle little mouse… does it hurt?”
I kicked him in the stomach.
“No, you freak, it feels amazing!”
He started shaking.
“Angel… please forgive me.”
“Go to hell.”
I wiped my tears and walked into Sam’s office.
He looked at me. Then at Caleb.
I lowered my eyes.
I was covered in bruises.
Caleb had obvious cuts.
He burst into booming laughter.
“You two need to be more careful with games like that.”
I smiled.
“Will you fix my nose?”
He nodded.
Sam carefully started treating it.
“Ow, ow, ow… aaah…”
I was angry but endured it.
Caleb, true to himself, was already furious that someone dared to even breathe near me.
“Sam, can you get some water?”
“Of course.”
He stepped out.
I grabbed a syringe.
And with full force stabbed it into Caleb’s leg.
He howled in pain.
Folded in half.
I nodded in satisfaction.
Sam returned carefully carrying water, trying not to spill a drop.
Then he looked up — Caleb bent over, syringe in his leg.
Me glowing.
He laughed even louder.
“Jesus Christ, you’re like my kids. Always fighting.”
I glanced at Caleb.
“I love you,” he mouthed silently.
I smiled.
What an idiot.