Page 19 of Villains Are Made


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My question is answered when the housekeeper is pushed aside, and Apollo stands in her place. Dark hair, piercing eyes, and the same look of betrayal on his face from when I left him at the funeral.

Apollo hands the woman a wad of cash and gives a warning look that sends a shiver down my spine. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight. It would be a shame to find you tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman says and turns to hurry away. She doesn’t even look at me, but I don’t blame her. Who would stand up against Apollo Godwin? I don’t think the money had anything to do with her leaving and no doubt keeping her mouth shut. The poor housekeeper feared for not only her job but even her life.

No one messes with a Godwin.

Then I realize I should fear for my life as well.

I try to slam the door shut, but Apollo has already placed his black leather shoe on the threshold and uses his arm to open the door even wider.

His eyes snake down my body. “Now, love, this isn’t how you treat your husband. On the day we bury my brother, I expect better from you.”

My breath hitches as Apollo forces his way into the hotel room, shutting the door behind him. I glance over my shoulder at the couch where I had left my cell phone. I also consider screaming but feel I should be very careful in how I handle this situation with Apollo. Screaming, running, or even fighting could get me killed. I have learned one thing since becoming a Godwin and that is that they don’t like messes. And they are very, very good at cleaning them up.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” I say, taking a few steps backward toward the couch.

“Oh, I think you do,” Apollo counters as he walks toward me slowly. He reminds me of a mountain lion stalking his prey—calculated, stealth-like, deadly. He stops when he stands directly in front of me. “I told you to go home.”

“I…I felt getting a hotel room would be better… Considering.”

A feral flash of his teeth nearly buckles my knees. “Considering.”

Blood courses chaotically through my veins. “You should be with your family. Grieving.”

He chuckles, which isn’t exactly the reaction that I expect. “You sure know how to change the mood of a funeral.” A small smirk lights up his face. “I prefer rage over sadness any day, so I guess I should thank you.”

“I didn’t know your father,” I begin, swallowing back the large lump in the back of my throat. “I didn’t expect for him to confront me like that at the funeral.”

“Did you think you could get away with it? Not get caught? You had to know we have cameras everywhere at Medusa Enterprises.”

“I expected you’d eventually find out,” I admit. Except every day that passed in which I didn’t get confronted was a day that built my confidence that I had indeed gotten away with it after all.

“And did you know there would be consequences? You had to know my father would demand consequences. That I would as well.”

Images of death flash before my eyes. “If I scream,” I begin.

“If you scream, then innocent people die. I have men in the hallways prepared to clean up any mess that should arise.” His eyes lock with mine, and for a moment I see…sadness. But then the look vanishes as quickly as it came, and his arms cross against his chest. “I hope to keep this as clean as possible. But that’s entirely up to you.”

I can hear the rapid beating of my heart in my ears. “I want you to leave right now.” My voice cracks as I issue the demand.

“Yes, well… We all want things in life, now don’t we?”

I steal another peek at my phone, wondering if it’s even possible to reach it and dial 911 before Apollo can stop me.

“You could try for the phone,” he says, never taking his eyes off me and somehow reading my mind, “but then things would get dirty.” He glances at me from head to toe with a devilish grin. “But maybe you like to get…dirty?”

“What are you going to do?” Asking the words seems to take whatever breath I have left in my body. I feel faint as I try to play out every scenario of what might happen to me in my head. The likelihood of me getting out of this situation alive seems less and less likely with every gruesome thought playing in my mind.

But this is my husband. My husband. Apollo wouldn’t kill me. Maybe his brother would, but he’s dead. His father would, but he’s not here. Even Athena would gladly slit my throat. But not Apollo. Not my husband.

Not answering my question, Apollo asks his own. “Why did you do it? Why go to the police with the video?”

“You know why.” I swallow hard.

“No. I don’t. Tell me.”

“I thought it would be my life raft. I wanted off the Godwin boat. You know this. You and your family wouldn’t allow me to leave. I simply wanted to leave,” I say softly, repositioning my weight from one bare foot to the other.

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