Page 119 of Ruin

“But you could have gone back if I’d been there to support you.”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t have gone back. What would have been the point? I had Gigi, and she was the most important thing to me. You know how ballet is. It’s grueling, long hours. I wasn’t going to spend that kind of time away from her.”

His eyes go to the ceiling. He blows out a hard breath. “Still, I should’ve been there.”

I don’t say anything. Because he’s right. He should’ve been there. I can blame Marcel for Zeus not being there for Gigi. But not for Zeus not being there for me. He’s to blame for that.

His eyes, determined and steady, come back to mine. “I will make it up to you both. I swear to you, Dove.”

I slide my hand up to his face, pressing my palm to his cheek. “You already are by just being here right now.”

But I know the look in his eyes. I know he thinks he should be doing more. Hence, the purchase of this house.

“Zeus…you didn’t have to buy this house, you know.”

I know he’s okay for money, but he’s still putting Lo and Missy through college and financially supporting his dad. He has money, but that money will also have to last him when his boxing career does finally come to an end.

His brows draw together. “Yes, I did. You need to know that I’m here to stay. And I will do whatever it takes to show you that.”

“I just…I know you have money. I just don’t want you wasting it.”

Frustration lines his eyes. “Nothing spent on you or Gigi is a waste. And I’m good for money, Cam. Don’t worry about that.”

“So, why is the Dimitrov fight so important? You said to me a while ago that you were doing it because you needed the money.”

He looks away from me. Too quickly. “I need to secure Gigi’s future.”

I believe that. I do. But I also think there’s something else he’s not telling me. Some other reason he needs the money.

I’m about to probe when he says, “Will you dance for me?” He brings his eyes back to mine. They’re thoughtful and clear. Whatever was bothering him a moment ago has gone.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Er…no.” I laugh.

“Why not?” His lips frown at me.

“Because I’m naked.” I wave a hand down myself.

“And?” He raises a brow.

“And I’m not dancing naked.”

“Strippers do.”

“I’m not a stripper, you big jerk!”

I gently jab him in the chest, and he laughs. Catching my hand, he brings it to his lips and brushes a kiss over my knuckles.

“No, you’re not. You’re my very limber ballerina.”

His big hand slides down my thigh, lifting it up his body, making me shiver when he palms my ass and squeezes.

I want him again. And the hardness beneath my leg is telling me that he wants me again, too.

But I’m also conscious of the time. I’ve been out for much longer than I first anticipated already. I know Aunt Elle is home, and she doesn’t mind. But I mind.