I pick my glass back up and down the rest in one gulp. The burn makes my eyes sting, and I blink away tears before they fall. No way I’m crying in front of Arès.
“I live with him. He’s taken care of me these past months. Always been there. But I don’t have a life. I don’t know anyone, don’t have a job, and I don’t even know who I am anymore… I’m just a hollow shell, lost in a world I no longer recognize.”
I feel so fucking alone. I spill everything to this man without thinking. And weirdly, I don’t care if he judges me or thinks I’m crazy. With him, somehow… it’s easy.
The glass in his hand cracks suddenly, his fingers tightening around it. I stare, startled. His smile is gone. His jaw is tight.
“You sleep with him?” he mutters.
Is that… jealousy?
“Of course not. He’s like a brother.”
His shoulders relax slightly, but I still see anger simmering beneath the surface.
“Did I come here often?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away.
“You worked here,” he answers.
I absorb the information. So he wasn’t just a stranger.
“I was a tattoo artist?”
That surprises me. I can barely draw stick figures.
He laughs—a deep, genuine laugh. It’s incredible. I never want it to stop. His features soften, and his eyes light up. I could watch him forever.
“No. You ran the front desk,” he says, chuckling.
I grin. So, no drawing or tattooing skills. Shame. But at least I made Arès laugh.
“Were we more than coworkers?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
My cheeks burn immediately. Why did I say that? I just completely bulldozed his privacy.
Arès shakes his head and refills both glasses.
“Sorry if I’m asking too much,” I say when I notice him pulling back.
He stares out the window, silent. Looks like the interrogation is over.
“Maybe I should go,” I murmur, rising to my feet.
But before I can leave, his voice stops me:
“I still need someone at the front desk.”
CHAPTER 18
ARÈS
I know this is a mistake.
I kept my distance for six fucking months. I held the line, fought with everything I had. Every damn day, I waited for Benton, and every night, I barely slept a wink. He never came.
But Andrew did.
At first, I thought I’d imagined him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him—but couldn’t look too long, either. There he was, standing in front of me in a dark red winter coat, just like himself, already ready to get on my nerves.
