Bathrooms had always been Grey's favorite refuge.
They offered him privacy, a chance to let water wash away the gnawing weight of memories of everything his father had put him through.
At the packhouse, the small bathroom in his room soothed him enough to forget, if only for a little while. But this... this palace bathroom? He wasn't sure what it might do.
Perhaps it could lull him into sleep, or make him forget the world outside these gilded walls.
He lingered longer than necessary just staring, and for a heartbeat, he forgot where he was. The room was vast and luxuriously simple.
White marble covered the floors and walls, streaked with gold and polished to a mirror shine.
A sunken bathtub rested against one wall, its gold taps gleaming like captured sunlight. Beside it, a glass-enclosed shower stood.
A long marble counter held neatly folded towels stacked with precision. Everything looked neat and expensive, it seemed like it was crafted to soothe both body and soul.
It seemed as if everything in this palace was gilded. Grey couldn't help to wonder just how wealthy Jethro really was.
Did the power of an Enigma bring wealth with it, gifted by the moon goddess?
Clearly not.
If wealth came automatically, other Enigmas would have made their spaces like this.
He shook the thoughts aside and stepped into the warm shower.
The water drummed over him, soothing his tense muscles, but he knew he was running late. Not wanting to make his image any worse than it already was, he hurried to finish so he could head to Jethro's office.
Even if Jethro intended to send him away, Grey told himself he wasn't going to give him any more reasons to see him as careless or weak.
He couldn't let Jethro think of him as lazy, unbothered, or incapable. That must be what Jethro was thinking of him after he overslept and failed to deliver what he had been asked to on time.
...and yesterday Jethro had accused him of lowering his head and accepting abuse without resisting.
The memory burned deeply, enough to make Grey swear to himself that it didn't matter how heavily Alpha and Enigma pheromones naturally pressed down on Omegas, he would not lower his head again, especially not in front of Jethro.
He let the water wash over him, then stepped out of the shower earlier than he wanted, he wrapped a towel around his waist, and then stepped into the bedroom.
Only then did he notice the man still there.
Grey froze.
"You're still here?" His voice was uneven.
The man didn't answer nor move, only his gaze roamed slowly over Grey-wet hair clinging to his face and neck, down his bare shoulders, across the smooth, pale skin of his chest.
Grey felt exposed under that look, a raw, almost intimate scrutiny that made him keenly aware of every inch of his body.
He watched the man swallow hard.
"What are you doing?!" Grey snapped, irritation threading through his voice, but even as he spoke, his body betrayed him, his skin heated under the intensity of the man's stare.
He had never been looked at like that by another man, and he hated it, hated how aware his body always was whenever a man got too close, whenever a gaze lingered too long.
He hated it.
"Waiting for you to be ready so I can take you to Lord Jethro's office," the man said, his voice sounded casual. "I already told you he sent me to get you."
Grey's irritation deepened. How did that explain the way the man had been staring at him, as if he were a woman the man desired?
The thought made his stomach twist, a surge of frustration he could barely suppress. He clenched his jaw and forced the question back down.
"Then wait outside while I get ready," he said, letting the irritation resonate in every syllable.
The man's gaze swept over him one last time before he turned and walked out.
Grey stepped forward and locked the door behind him. He let out a shaky breath, forcing his mind to clear, to ignore the tension that throbbed in his chest.
He focused on the wardrobes lining the room. He had no his clothes here yet, but he assumed there must be something suitable.
Opening the first wardrobe, he froze. Neatly arranged suits stared back at him, jackets, trousers, shirts, and even ties ,..all perfectly folded or hung.
Suits had never been his style. Were these actually his? Hesitant, he picked up the phone and called to confirm, they were his.
He told himself he would never wear a full suit. Opening the second wardrobe revealed the same: more suits, more shirts, all precise, all formal. Only two t-shirts and one pair of casual trousers remained. They looked like pajamas. He could not wear them.
Finally, he settled on a white suit trouser and paired it with a simple t-shirt. He brushed his hair carefully, letting strands fall across his forehead and along the nape of his neck.
Satisfied, he moved to the door. Outside, the man still waited.
Grey did not speak, he simply passed him and walked ahead, only when he reached down the stairs did he realize that he had no idea where Lord Jethro's office was.
The mansion stretched endlessly in every direction, a labyrinth of gold-trimmed corridors, polished floors, and towering staircases. He could easily get lost here, perhaps never be found again.
He didn't want to let himself seem dependent on that man after he walked ahead of him, he thought fast and came up with a solution..
He suddenly bend down, pretended to adjust his shoelaces, praying the man would continue forward so Grey could follow.