“You forgot stripper.” His lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh at my list of reasons we can’t be together, and my brain short circuits again. Stripper.
“St-stripper. Right. My mistake. You’re the rich, hockey playing,stripperson of a rich man.” I’ve seen him half naked in my search engine. The ink across the top part of his chest, under his collar bone and wrapped around his bicep. I’ve seen his abs. Those abs should be illegal.
He has the audacity to chuckle.Chuckle! The nerve.
“Care to let me in on the joke?”
“It’s funny that you’re intimidated by my money, by my family, by my reputation. And I’m over on this side of the car intimidated by your intelligence, afraid to say something that’ll make you laugh at me for being stupid, feeling that no amount of money in the bank would make me good enough to be with you.”
I shake my head, like that might help focus my thoughts. What the heck?
“No amount of money can buy intelligence,tesoro. Not to mention, I have a past, a dark and shameful past. I know you read about it online, but that’s only what was reported, what my father’s PR people couldn’t keep under wraps.” He drops his gaze to the center console.
“I’ve done things, and I don’t mean stripping, or being promiscuous, or loving sex and fucking people in public. I did things while I was high and drunk because I could. Because I knew that my name would protect me from consequences.”
The air in the car has grown tense, heavy. “I don’t care about who youwere, Ares. I care about who youare.”
“Like you said, you don’t know who I am.” He has me there. I did say that.
“You’re the kind of person who pays two hundred dollars for four pieces of pie. I don’t know why, but I know that’s a terribly kind thing for you to do.”
His head tips up so I can see into his sad eyes again. “Brian’s having issues with some conglomerate trying to buy his building to put up a high rise. He refuses to move, he refuses to buy bigger premises, to grow his business. He likes things as they are. So, I pay a little extra for my pie.”
I snort. “A little.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but to me, and likely to Brian, it’s a pretty big deal. “He only takes money that I make from my side hustle. I don’t take a salary, but I do collect my tips and use those to pay for pie. It’s a principle thing for him.”
I can’t help but laugh. That totally tracks from the little I know about the Irishman in the hidden pie shop. I was also right—it’s a sweet gesture from Ares that warms my chest.
“Why do you study gender and social justice?”
His eyebrows twitch. “No one’s really asked me that before. Simple answer is that it pisses my father off. He wants his male children to study male things and be manly men to represent the family.” He shrugs casually, but a muscle feathers in his jaw, sadness painted in his eyes and the downturned edges of his mouth.
“What’s the not so simple answer?”
His eyes narrow, gaze concentrating on my face before he sighs. “My favorite cousin in the whole world was raped.”
My heart stops dead in my chest, and I wrap my arms across myself to rub my gooseflesh covered arms.
“I’m so sorry, Ares.” I want to reach out to him, to take his hand, or stroke his face but I’m afraid if I show him affection right now, he’ll clam up and bring back the showman, the performer.
“The guy got away with it. She’d been drinking…” He waves a hand like it’s a tale as old as time. And I unfortunately know what he means. While I haven’t been assaulted myself, I’ve heard plenty of stories, and Mom was a rape victim during her time at college, before she met Dad. And for some reason our justice system seems to favor the criminal, rather than the victims.
“So, I decided to study gender, to become an ally to women. To say fuck the patriarchy, study social justice, to stand up for what’s right and to become a champion for victims who can’t find their own voice, or who can, and get shouted down by some louder asshole with a dick.”
Be still my beating heart.
It turns out that Ares de la Peña is more than parties, sex, and hockey. This is… ooooh this is bad, this is very, very bad. I was fine with shallow Ares, kissing and fingering, and cocky Ares. But this… this is deep Ares.
And he’s sharing his hidden depths with me. I… wow. This is huge. I had no idea.
“I…”
“I know. It doesn’t quite align with the playboy, bad boy, hockey playing stripper image, right?”
I nod.
“Just because I like having a good time doesn’t mean I’m shallow.”
