“All these photographs show her so lively, happy and smiling,” she whispered, a note of wistfulness in her voice. “She was safe. That’s all I wanted for her.”
“Safe from whom?”
Her lips pressed together, a clear indication that she wouldn’t answer me.
“Would you like a nightcap?” I asked instead, heading toward the small, fully stocked minibar. I poured ouzo, my usual choice.
I glanced at Violet, waiting for her answer.
“Sure, whatever you’re having.” I chuckled, handing her the glass, and she took it without hesitation. “I’m assuming it’s something Greek?”
“Correct,” I said. “Although, your readiness to drink Greek alcohol surprises me. Last time you tried it, you didn’t like it.”
The night we met had played on my mind so many times over the past decade, and judging by the flush on her face, she must have thought about it often too.
“You’re right,” she said, then without a second thought, she set the glass aside. For a brief moment, I worried I’d made a mistake bringing up the past, but there was no displeasure in her expression as she added, “Just vodka on the rocks for me.”
I nodded, and the soft clink of ice against glass filled the space as I poured her drink, the ritual steadying me. I handed it to her, our fingers brushing for the briefest second before I turned to grab my own.
We settled into opposite corners of the couch, with just enough space to keep things from tipping into territory neither of us was ready for.
I held my glass like a quiet shield while we studied each other.
She’d been utterly disarming when I met her ten years ago, but today, she was so much more. She was confident, calm, and oozing with a beauty I wasn’t sure I could resist.
Dammit, I’d never wanted a woman as much as I wanted her, but if we were to do this again, we had to do it right. Go slow and resolve the issues of my wife and her past.
I took a sip, the sharp burn of anise hitting the back of my throat, and I let out a low, strangled laugh.
“Want to know something funny?” I said, shaking my head slightly.
“Sure.”
“You were the last woman I shared a drink with… that night. At the bar.”
The confession slipped out easily. I didn’t try to dress it up or pull it back. It was pointless to pretend.
Her eyes shifted to me, searching. There was suspicion there, but also curiosity.
I let her see it, all my loneliness, longing, and whatever else I might be projecting.
“Tonight was the first family dinner I’ve had in over a decade,” she admitted, and my chest tightened for her. “Probably closer to fifteen years. Since Lily’s kidnapping.”
“Your father is an asshole,” I spat angrily.
She lowered her gaze to her glass and murmured, “Yeah, he’s a cruel, narcissistic bastard.”
“I guess we all have some skeletons in our families.”
She let out a sardonic breath, her eyes flashing with hate. “No, Lykos. Your wife is just… unwell. My father is perfectly sane and knows exactly what he’s doing.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a sigh.
“I just don’t understand what caused Amara’s descent into madness. She was always so quiet, shy. She was religious too. I learned too late that her family had had her treated by family doctors, but they kept it quiet. Our parents arranged our marriage when we were still teenagers, and her parents pushed for us to marry as soon as possible. Now, looking back, I wonder if they were in a rush to marry her off to hide her condition, and I was too blind and young to see it. I swear to you, Violet, I went into that marriage fully intent on being faithful and?—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know, but I want to give it to you, golden one.”
