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“How often do you plan on seeing her in Spain?” Athena asks, but it’s a question she already knows the answer to.
Not often enough.
“I need to get back to my life. Full time. You know this,” I say.
Who am I trying to convince? Athena or myself?
Athena nods slowly. “But from what you are saying, it sounds like she wants to be part of that full-time life.”
“Which is crazy. In a goddamn attic?”
“You don’t need to choose the attic, Phoenix, and you know this.”
“And you know what being a Godwin does to people. What it did to Mother,” I say, to counter the idea of a happily ever after. “The last thing I want to see is Ani jumping to her death because she sealed her fate by marrying me. No one deserves that. No one.”
“Our mother was different.” Athena’s jaw tightens as she spits out the words. “She was weak. She didn’t have the strength to fight for our family.”
“How do you know Ani isn’t weak?”
Athena shrugs. “I don’t, but I think you know just how strong Ani is. Otherwise we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“True,” I agree. “She’s not weak.”
“But even if you wanted this woman as your wife, there is no way to have that normal family where you come home at the end of the day to a homemade meal and family laughter like some suburban fantasy. It’s just not who you are. Who any of us are.”
“I don’t know. It sure as hell looks like Apollo and Daphne are about to live that perfect white picket fence dream,” I say.
Athena rolls her eyes. “Doubtful. But whatever. I couldn’t care less if they do.”
“Yeah, well… you are right. It’s not who I am. It’s not who I will ever be.” I release a deep breath and return my attention to Ani asleep on the monitor. “Ani may think she knows what she wants. But she has no idea.”
“Then stick to the plan.”
“Ani said there are journals of Mother’s at the house,” I say. “I’m having the staff search for them.”
“Why bother?” Athena shrugs.
“You aren’t curious what’s inside?”
“She’s dead. Dead. Let’s move on.”
Picking up on her tone, I do just that. “I’ll work on security in Madrid.” I like that I now have something to focus on other than Ani and her idea of an impossibility.
“Fine, but let me ask you something first. Be honest,” Athena says in a low voice. “Do you have feelings for Ani? Do you love her?”
I look back at the monitor, lean back in my chair, and fight the urge to study every single curve of Ani’s body, which I often do. “Yes.” I run my hands through my hair. “Fuck.”
Athena studies me and then says, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“It makes things messy. Complicated. And if she’s carrying my baby, I think my feelings are only going to grow more for her.”
“Spain,” Athena says. “Distance. You need it. She needs it.”
“It’s the only way. I need to focus. Stay on course.”
I sit back and continue to watch Ani sleep peacefully as my mind tells my heart lies.
Stay on course.
Stay on course.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Ani
I sit and watch Phoenix eat. Waiting for him to look up at me. Hoping that maybe just once he will acknowledge my presence in any way except to punish me. Is it possible for Phoenix to feel anything toward me? Can he ever be anything but an authoritative disciplinarian? Do I not have any hold of his heart at all?
I haven’t had my period, and though I don’t know for sure, there is a part of me that knows I can very well be pregnant. My time in the penthouse is limited. Once he knows I’m pregnant, this wicked game of keeping the princess locked away in the tower will be over. Reality will set in.
Though Phoenix and I share a connection, it’s going to be hard to convince him of that. He has punished me several times, sometimes severely and other times with a lighter hand. He tolerates little and has zero patience. Some of the times are deserved for acting out due to boredom or raising hell because I feel like the walls of the penthouse are often closing in on me. But there are times that he will pull the belt from his pants and take it to me simply because he can.
Does he know how much I like it? I do. His dominance. His power. The bite of the leather against my flesh. The act of being punished nude before him. I love it all. Crave it even. Maybe it is my soul desiring the punishment for never being happier when I should be miserable. Or maybe it is simply the fuel I require to light the fire within. Regardless of why, I wait in anticipation for the next strike of his hand. But unlike with Mark, it’s never on my face. Never any place that causes any real harm. Just my bare ass causing me to become instantly wet.
