His laugh was an echo of that moment in his office a week before. That loose, light,reallaugh. She moved her finger onto the next rune before she could dwell on the way it warmed her chest.
‘Perthro.It represents joy, cheerfulness, exuberance.’
And a month before, she might have thought that fit him to a T. But cracks were beginning to show in that energetic facade. He’d looked tired lately, dark circles forming under those always astonishingly blue eyes. ‘Does it work?’
Alex shrugged, and his voice dropped to a murmur. ‘Also represents secrets.’
And that definition… That made more sense, she thought, picturing the shadows that sometimes crossed his face. The expressions she couldn’t always read.
‘AndAlgiz,’ he continued, drawing her attention to the last rune, one that looked like an angular trident. ‘Protection and defence. It’s supposed to keep you safe from physical, mental, and emotional harm.’
‘Sounds useful,’ Sarah whispered, eyes locked on the place where her lavender nails touched the dark ink. It had been years since she’d painted with anything other than oils, but suddenly the dusty box of chalk pastels in her wardrobe was calling to her, primed to depict the contrasting colours, and the meeting point between the delicate flex of her fingers and the hard slab of his stomach. ‘Does that one work?’
‘I’ll let you know,’ Alex said softly. His eyes were on her when she looked up at him. It would be so easy to lose herself in them. Inhim, when he was like this, open and easy and feeling a little like hers.
She distracted herself by moving her fingers up his chest to his partially exposed right shoulder. ‘Why David?’ she asked, tracing the delicately shading. ‘Good Catholic boy who loves art, part of the Sistine Chapel feels inevitable. But why David?’
‘Firstly,goodCatholic is about the biggest stretch I’ve ever heard. Secondly…David is the paragon of male beauty, right?’ He shrugged, his other arm coming to rest behind his head. It did things to his chest she pretended not to notice, even as she memorised every line to replicate in her sketchbook later.
‘And that’s what you think you are?’ Hewas. As much as she made fun of him for it, he was so fucking pretty it caused her to lose focus sometimes. But that—light banter, subtle slights—was all they were to each other. And she needed to remember it.
Shifting his weight below her, Alex sighed. ‘I realised early on that if I presented myself a certain way, I could get people to do anything for me.’
Suddenly it all made sense. The beautiful suits, tailored to within an inch of their life. The hair, always styled perfectly. The muscles he worked on almost every day, looking as if they too were carved from marble, like the artwork he wore on his body.
‘I told you about the ADHD. I didn’t know what was wrong with me when I was a kid, but I could tell my brain didn’t work right. I was forgetful in the extreme. I couldn’t focus at school. But my parents had enough going on with Erik. And because I was loud and outgoing and social, and he was so quiet and serious and smart, no one thought our problems could have the same root cause. Teachers thought I just needed to apply myself. So I did. Just not in the way they’d intended. You might be immune to my charm’—he turned his head for the firsttime since he’d started speaking. She’d half wondered if he’d forgotten she was there—‘but it turns out that when I try, few other people are.
‘I couldn’t magically make myself remember to study for tests or finish homework. But I could convince teachers to give me retakes or extensions. When I zoned out in classes, I could flirt my way to getting notes or tutoring sessions from other people. I was still a bratty little shit, sure. The tutoring was, in hindsight, perhaps not the most effective forstudying, although I picked up different skills. And when I became popular with girls, I fell in with a guy whose parents travelled a lot, so there were a fair number of parties at his place. But as long as I passed, didn’t knock anyone up, and didn’t need to get my stomach pumped, my parents didn’t have to worry too much about me.
‘And the parties, the socialising, thefun…it helped. When I didn’t get that stimulation, it felt like my insides were too big for my body. Like I was testing the limits of what my skin could contain. And balancing the noise inside my head with noise from outside would stop that, just for a bit. It’s better now. The meds, they’ve helped a lot. All that pent-up energy, I can channel it better, you know?’ Alex was quiet for a moment, pensive. Then he said, ‘I also didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere. Least of all home. So I became someone who fit in everywhere.’
Sarah’s heart ached for the boy the man beside her had once been. She’d assumed he was awash with close but probably annoying friends, always up for a good time by choice. But if he’d continued on the same trajectory he had begun at school, maybe it was all still part of the act. She thought about that night at thebar, how he’d been eager to escape the crowd to sit alone with her, even though nothing physical had happened until later.
And for the first time, she wondered if loud, brash Aleksander Larsson just wanted someone to be quiet with.
In a scenario she couldn’t have even imagined just a few weeks before, maybe she could be that for him. After the wedding, when their arrangement was over, maybe she could be his friend.
‘So anyway,’ Alex continued, his voice back to normal, ‘that’s why David.’
That sent another pang through her chest, as she considered why he felt so comfortable going back to his facade after baring his soul. Wondered how many times in his life his feelings had been brushed aside because he seemed happy and easy-going. But for now, she’d follow his direction.
‘You know that sculpture is full of anatomical imperfections, right?’ Of course he did. If she’d learned one thing about Alex, it was that he became obsessive when he was interested in something.
‘I do. I also know Michelangelo was a genius, and if they’re there, they were intentional.’
Another image flashed through her mind. Alex’s arrival at her door with his sleeves rolled deliberately, showing off that vein running down his arm, and hitting at the perfect length to display his tattoos. A single lock of hair escaping an otherwise perfect arrangement to fall effortlessly over his eyes. His tie loosened just so, slung over a shirt unbuttoned only enough to hint at his sculpted chest.
The picture of casual curation. A masterclass in artful dishevelment.
She was desperate to know what it would take to see him come apart for real.
His reactions when she’d handcuffed him earlier had felt raw, more open than she’d ever seen him. And she craved more.
There was no reason for him to stay. Sex was long over. This was as close to post-coital cuddling as they’d ever come. But maybe he wasn’t ready to leave either, as he offered, ‘You can ask about one more.’
Her eyes roved his body. She was curious about the raven on his thigh, but he’d pulled his trousers back up, and if it came with the excuse to touch him some more, she’d wait until his skin was bared to her again. The strings of Roman numerals under his left pec—the ones she now knew were dates—had her eyes lingering, but it had been his first tattoo, and maybe they needed to veer away from things with too much meaning. If he opened up to her much more, she might handcuff him to her bed again. Not let him go until he felt safe and cared for and looked after.
She settled on the most innocuous-looking one she’d found—a bow and arrow peeking out from behind a disco ball.
