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Her gentle fingers found the back of my neck and massaged the tight muscles as she leaned back to take in my face.
The conversation I hoped we might skip lay open on her face.
“Why?”
I gave her the truth. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
Her eyes warmed, her face softened.
I did that.
“How?”
“Can we not talk about this? The whole reason I froze you out was so you wouldn’t be involved.”
“No. I want to know,” she pushed.
I sighed as I softly stroked her naked thighs and worked out what to say. “I had permission to tape behind the scenes. So, I taped behind the scenes. I called a meeting. Presented my slideshow. Watched the shit hit the fan.” I smiled. “The woman from HR actually laughed.”
“I bet!” Hope howled. “With him gone, she’ll be out of a job.” Searching my eyes, she sobered. “I want to see it.”
“No.”
There was no way I wanted the image of that prick rubbing his crotch as she walked in front of him to the elevator locked in her head.
“They’ll bury it,” she warned.
My lips curled into a satisfied smile. “They can’t. My contracts always include an addendum to say that I own all my footage. I can use it in any way I see fit so long as it’s not for the purpose of financial gain for a competing company.”
With her next question, the shadows in her eyes reflected the bruises on her heart.
I did that as well.
“Couldn’t you have told me?” she asked softly.
I tugged her down and pressed my forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, Hope,” I whispered and felt her nod in acceptance.
I tipped my face back to look at her.
How did she survive out there with her thoughts and feelings flashing like a beacon?
I smiled and gave her the truth. “But you have a terrible poker face.”
Ovaries
Hope
Slowly, the light dragged me from sleep. I looked around Ares’ room, taking in the details I mostly ignored the night before. Dark wood, cream walls, blue and cream bedding. Professionally decorated, none of the decorative touches screamed ‘Ares’.
On his bedside table sat two frames, one with a woman who looked an awful lot like him, and one of Sia as a newborn. I couldn’t recall a single other photograph in the entire house.
Which was weird considering his profession.
I rolled over to take him in. Olive skin, long black lashes, delicious salt and pepper stubble, greying wings at his temple, his thick shock of black hair falling over his forehead.
In sleep, his face lost its hardness.
Even his hands lay loose and unfurled on the bed by his sides.
