Dita shifted again, her eyes never leaving the page of her romance novel about prudish aristocrats in the 1800’s, holding out for some petticoat fluffing and knicker dropping. She stretched out on her stomach with her book propped on the arm of her deep brown couch, knowing this position likely wouldn’t last long, either. Readers cramps were relentless.
The elevator pinged, and she stretched her neck to look over the back of the couch, rolling her eyes when she saw Ares saunter in.
“What?” She turned back to her book, sounding bored, hoping he would take the hint.
Ares walked around the couch, moved her feet, and sat where they had been. Bisoux growled. Dita huffed and closed her book with a thump.
“Do you need something, Ares? Or did you just come in here to be an asshole?” She sat up and folded her arms across her chest.
Ares smiled at her sideways. “Just wondering what your plan is with Kat.”
“Like I’m going to tell you.”
“Do you really think your girl can tame Dillon? Because the dude has issues.”
She scoffed. “Please, Ares. Is that ever really a question?”
“You’re so sure you’re going to win, but you always underestimate me, Dita.”
She snorted. “Do I? You don’t have the best track record.”
“Maybe not, but don’t count me out. Fair warning. Dillon’s rage is so deep seeded, it’s practically genetic. And at the heart of that seed is me.”
Dita’s eyes narrowed. “Dillon wouldn’t be the first jackoff I cured of you.”
He laughed, and the sound filled the room. “You can’t cure Dillon.”
“Maybe not, but I may have found his antidote.”
Ares rested his hand on her leg, and his eyes searched her face for any signs of rejection. Dita knew what he was doing, and let him do it.
He noticed, and smiled. “We’ll see. How are you doing, otherwise?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking about Adonis?”
She rolled her eyes again. “I haven’t seen him, if that’s what you’re asking. But I don’t want to talk about him with you.”
He picked at the hem of her jeans, his face soft. “You’re lonely. I get it. I am, too. I always am, without you.”
“Ares…don’t,” she warned.
He turned to her, hurt with a side of irritation. “Don’t what? Tell you that I want you? That I need you? You throw me away so easily. You were mine. And then you weren’t.”
She turned her gaze to the fire’s glowing embers. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is. It’s exactly that simple. But now he’s abandoned you.” He wrapped his big hands around her legs and pulled her forcefully into his lap. The fire crackled behind her in the dim room, her hair a fiery halo, her face shrouded in shadows, but he could make out every detail. He could have seen it in the pitch black, he knew it so well.
He slipped his hand into her hair, the other splayed on her back as he tilted his face up to hers. “Are you mine again?”
She looked down at him as her breath quickened and her lips parted, her eyes on his mouth. She whispered a single, simple word.