by Nadia Aidan
He nodded to his guards. “The lady and I require privacy.”
“But sir…” The beautiful one—the first guard she’d shot—darted his eyes between her and Adonis. What was left unspoken was nonetheless heard by all. Selena was dangerous, not to be trusted. Adonis could not be left alone with her.
“That is an order, Cassius. Leave us.”
The beautiful one was called Cassius. She wondered if he was so named because he’d been born beautiful and his parents had thought his beauty would one day make him vain.
It did not matter, she decided. He left—albeit reluctantly—with the rest of the guards trailing behind him.
She lowered her gun when the much-abused door shut. She was surprised it could even close securely, but it did, with a smart thud.
“We cannot stay here much longer.”
“Because the door is broken?” She slipped the gun between her breasts as she glanced over at him. “You own this hotel. I am sure you can find another suite for yourself.”
She had figured it was a matter of finding another room, but she sensed it was something more when he began dragging on his clothing.
“Twelve of my guards already know that you are here with me. Soon my brothers will learn of your presence, then others. A day may pass, maybe even two, before he learns you are no longer at the convent.”
“He? ”
Adonis did not answer her, and the way he hurried around the room, gathering his things, unsettled her.
“Come. We must go.”
He tried to seize her arm, but she shrugged away from his grasp. “Go where? Why?”
“You are in danger, Selena. As am I,” he stated flatly. “The moment you came here you put us both in danger.”
Danger? What danger? From whom? She raked his dishevelled appearance with her sceptical gaze. “Why should I go anywhere with you? Why should I believe a word from your lips?”
He inched closer, crowding out the air surrounding her. In the span of moments, everything between them changed. He was no longer the willing submissive to her revenge, and she was no longer the deadly assassin. He wielded power and authority, and she would heed him. His expression hinted that he was protecting her, or at least trying to. “If you wanted me dead, you would have killed me at first sight. But you came here for something more and we both know it.” His face was flushed with impatience. “I know you want the truth just as desperately as you desire revenge, yet you will forfeit both if you do not come with me.”
She could easily kill him now and end this, but he was right. She’d come here for more than revenge, and she craved the truth just as much as she craved his destruction. But what if he was lying? What if this was a trap—
“If I wanted you dead, I would have had you killed only moments ago.” His discerning statement jarred her. “You may not want to trust me, Selena, but you have always known that you can.”
He spoke the truth. She hated that he did. But her hate did not make his words any less true. Adonis was many things, but untrustworthy was not one of them. No…that was her.
This time when he reached for her arm, she let him grab it. His fingers were gentle against her skin, almost daring her to pull away. She didn’t, and she let him usher her towards his private elevator, nestled in the shadowed corner of the room.
After inputting his code, they rode the car to the ground floor in silence. The metal doors opened to a private garage with space for three vehicles. Only one spot was taken.
The sleek design of the silver sporty automobile held her enthralled—its cool, metallic finish reflecting the harsh fluorescent light that lit the small space.
He helped her into the passenger side of the vehicle, the cream leather seat smooth beneath her fingertips. He slipped in beside her, behind the wheel. Within minutes they were tearing out of the garage and plunging into the oppressive blackness of the shadowed night.
The western district of La Ville des Dieux was Adonis’ territory.
The east belonged to Apollo, the north and south to Eros and Ares. Their domains were expansive—each district a living, breathing testament to its regent.
Hence, the west was the epitome of luxury and beauty.
During the day, golden statues reflected the light of the sun as they stood beyond the Doric columns and arched gateways of alabaster marble buildings. Orchids and lilies, snow white and flourishing in abundance, burst with purity across the landscape of the city, bringing peace and serenity to its occupants.
Those who called the western district their home were drawn to beauty, revelled in splendour and relished the majestic brilliance of Adonis’ creation.
She sensed, however, that its beauty was not appreciated by its creator, nor was the peace and serenity it brought to others felt by Adonis.
“Where are we going?”
As if the car had answered her, it lunged to the right on to a vacant street, disappearing up a winding road that climbed towards the highest peak.
“A place where he will expect me to take you, but a place where you will also be safe.”
“He? He who? ” she asked again.
Adonis looked at her. “Your father.”
“My father?” She was so stunned she could not say another word. She’d not seen her father, had not once spoken to him, in sixteen years. He’d all but disowned her after Adonis had ruined her. What would he want of her now? And, of all people, why did she need to be safe from him? Surely, Adonis had misspoken.
“You are mistaken. I am in no danger from Woodward. My father would never hurt me.” Because I do not even exist to him.
But Adonis’ glare suggested otherwise.
“If you believe that then you are just as naive and foolish now as you were then.”
The vehemence of his words was like a slap to her face and she gasped as fury trembled though her entire frame. “How dare you—”
“Save your outrage and anger for the one who deserves it.”
“You deserve it. Every measure of my anger, you deserve.”
His eyes softened and she looked away, staring with unseeing eyes straight ahead. Many things she wanted from this man, but pity was not one of them.
“You are wrong. I deserve your pain and suffering, even your revenge. But not your anger. Your father deserves that.”
“Why? My father is not responsible for what you did to me.”
His hands knuckling white against the steering wheel was her first clue. The ice hovering in the air between them the second. That he would not meet her probing stare told her what he refused to. She swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat, not knowing where to begin or what to ask.
“Do not ask this of me, Selena,” he said firmly, as if reading her mind, “because I will not tell you.”
“And what did you think I was going to ask you?”
“How your father was involved…is still involved.” He glanced at her, fleetingly. “I have kept this secret for sixteen years. I won’t have to for much longer. You will learn the truth soon enough. I’d rather you learn it from him. I’d rather you see him for who he truly is.”
His statement stunned her.
Her father? He was a stranger. Even before he’d disowned her, he’d been distant and cold. She hadn’t hated him, but neither had she loved him, not the way a daughter should. Growing up, he may have ignored her, but he’d never been cruel or done her harm. Why would Adonis think or say such things, knowing them to be a lie and that she ultimately would discover the truth. Selena wanted to ask more, but she knew Adonis was determined to keep his silence.
Whatever secrets he guarded, whatever sins her father had committed against her, Adonis would not reveal until he deemed it time to do so. It was all just as well, for they arrived at his home moments later, going straight from one garage into another. She didn’t even see his estate as they neared it, but she didn’t have to. It stood atop the highest point in the city, a beacon to its inhabitants and to outsiders.
Echoing
the flourish and embellishments of the city’s architecture, Adonis’ residence was beautifully designed, but modest in stature. One would have expected a palatial mansion, but the man’s home was simple, understated. Adorned with unique antiques, and boasting classic Greco-Roman decor, his house was a reserved two-storey structure fashioned out of marble and granite.
It was a place of beauty and refinement, its location aloof, much like the man who owned it.
After stepping into his elevator, they rode together in silence as it carried them to the second floor of his house.
“My chambers take up this floor,” he mentioned almost casually as he pulled out a key to open the first door they came to. “I will have guards posted at every entrance while you are here.”
She still did not share his belief that she was in danger…from her father, no less. She was certain that she did not require protection, nor was she a prisoner in his home, so Selena did not acknowledge his comment about the guards. Instead, she silently stepped into his apartments and he closed the door behind them with a gentle thud.
It struck her immediately that his inner sanctuary was at odds with the outer trappings of his domain, the veneer of his house.
Light and brilliance radiated from the exterior, while his private quarters reflected a deep, brooding darkness. Rich walnut furnishings adorned his living room, blending into walls of maple brown.
Adonis—a man of perfect, almost angelic beauty. The core of him was less pristine, layered with darkness, reaching to the depths of his very soul.
He stood in the centre of the spacious living room, staring silently at her while she perused his collection of books and the artwork decorating his walls. She sought to gain an understanding of the man he’d become.
The light glinted off a tiny object atop his bookshelf and she crossed the room to get a closer glimpse. Recognising the object almost immediately, Selena’s heart thrummed a faster beat as she lightly skimmed her fingers across the figurine.
“You kept it,” she choked out, emotion clogging her throat. “Why?” she demanded, whirling around, her next breath lodging in her chest when her hair brushed across his torso. He was so close and her body responded instantly to the heat of him, recalling the memory of his naked flesh against hers, inside her, his hips pistoning between her thighs as he claimed her with his lips, his hands, his cock.
She didn’t realise she was holding the small, sculpted figurine of a golden angel in her hand until he gently prised it from her fingers and set it back in its place.
“We were to be married,” he said simply, his expression stoic. His answer revealed nothing. He’d kept the small, insignificant gift she’d given him on his twentieth birthday. She wouldn’t have thought he would have wanted to be reminded of her, of the life they’d shared before that fateful night, or the promise of what could have been. She’d wanted no reminders, no memories, but Adonis did not seem to share her desire for ignorance.
“After that night I destroyed everything. I did not wish to remember,” she whispered. She had not meant to wound, but when he winced, even as it was virtually imperceptible, she knew her words had pierced him.
“I kept everything” he said solemnly. “I did not wish to forget.”
He had not sought to wound, but his revelation made her heart ache. He’d mourned the loss of an innocent young woman, the life that could have been, while she’d festered in anger, nurturing her hate. A tenderness she had not felt in sixteen years filled her, a tenderness she would have to quell when the time came to set her plan in motion.
There was a humble knock against the door and Adonis crossed the room to answer it.
“Your brothers are here, sir,” she heard his guard say.
“All of them?”
“Yes sir.”
Adonis emitted a harsh, ragged sigh and there was a long silence before he said, “Send them up.”
With a nod, the guard disappeared and Adonis closed the door. When he turned to face her, she knew what he would say from the look within his eyes.
“You do not want me here when they arrive,” she offered before he could speak.
“They know you’re here. That is why they have come.” His features were drawn. “But it would be best if they believed you to be bathing or asleep.”
“Why?”
“Because to see you would only remind them of what you represent.”
“And what is that?”
“My destruction, my weakness.” His smile was wry. “My downfall.”
She could not argue that.
“I will bathe then if you would show me the way.”
He did, and, just as she began to unzip her gown within the privacy of his master bathroom, she heard the doors to his penthouse open and knew his brothers, the three other gods—all beautiful, all cruel, all powerful—had joined him.
Apollo, Ares and Eros—his brothers, if not by blood and birth, then by the bond they’d formed as they’d grown from boys into manhood together. First in the slums of Le Domaine du Roi, then in the brothels of the slums, before becoming the most sought-after consorts to the wealthy. They’d witnessed depravity and darkness together, experienced things no child ever should, and survived what many never could. Their desolate childhoods had brought them together, but a dark secret now bonded them for life.
Adonis closed the door behind his three brothers—the core of them the same, even if their outward appearances could not be more different. Where Adonis was golden light, Ares was obsidian darkness. While Adonis was brooding and inscrutable, Eros was placid and amenable. Apollo was the closest in temperament to Adonis if not in looks, as he shared the same dark beauty as Ares. But despite their similarities, differences still remained between him and Apollo, for Adonis could still feel emotion and experience humour, where Apollo felt neither.
Their lives, all of them so similar, had manipulated them in such vastly different ways.
“You never made an appearance at the grand opening of your hotel,” Apollo said from his perch against the empty fireplace. “And then a rumour made its way to those who did attend that you had not only left your establishment, but with a woman.” Apollo’s gaze sharpened on him. “A woman from your past, no less.”
“She is here,” Adonis said simply, offering nothing else. There was no need, for they all knew the truth.
Ares stood closest to him, in a corner just beyond the door. That was the direction Adonis turned when his brother spoke. “If she is here, then he will come.” His lips thinned into a firm line. “Neither of you are safe.”
“I can protect her.”
“As you did before?”
Rage—pure, molten rage—exploded in his chest as he fixed his glare on Eros who sat with a rigid back in the chair beside the sofa. He was the only brother who sought to recline. He was also the only one to dare in a long time to acknowledge what Adonis refused to. He’d fallen in love only once, sworn to protect her…then failed. In his failure to protect her, he’d done far worse—he’d harmed her. Eros might as well have cleaved out his heart, the wrenching agony of being reminded of his impotency as a man to protect his woman was so painful.
Adonis was halfway across the room to snatch Eros from his seat when Ares stopped him, blocking his path.
“Out of my way.”
“Fighting Eros will not change a thing,” stated Ares. “Besides, he is right.”
Adonis stilled, his hands curling into fists, the words his brothers wielded cutting him deep.
“But it was not your fault,” Ares continued. “It was an impossible situation you and Apollo were forced into. You could have ruined her, or you could have seen her dead. Any man in your place would have done the same. No one blames you.”
Ares was wrong. “She blames me.”
“That is because she chooses to remain ignorant,” Apollo said.
He and Apollo, they had shared the same fate.
Destroy Serena—Selena’s twin sister—he had been told, and Apollo
had.
They both had ruined the lives of the women they’d loved. Apollo had not been the same since then—neither one of them had, but the darkness Apollo carried inside him was so oppressive that Adonis had often feared for his brother’s sanity.
“Can you blame her for choosing to remain ignorant? The truth would have destroyed her,” Adonis defended Selena.
“It could still destroy her. And she will take you with her.” Ares sighed. “Why did you have to pick today of all days to open your hotel? Why did you have to taunt her into seeking you out?”
“Because it was time,” he said, but that was a lie. He had yet to tell his brothers the entire truth. He’d had no choice but to draw her to him.
He’d received a letter—actually two. One from her revealing she would come for him on what promised to be the greatest day of his life. The second letter had been marked anonymous, though he suspected it was from him. It was a warning and a threat. Selena would die, and Adonis knew of only one way to protect her.
“Time for who?” demanded Ares. “You? Her? Him?”
“All of us. It was time she learned the truth, time for me to stop carrying it around alone, time for him to finally face his daughters and pay for what he did to them.”
Apollo shook his head as if he thought Adonis a fool…and maybe he was right. What his brother did not say, he read plainly across his face. Out of weakness, Adonis had grown weary of the secret he carried. When Selena learned the truth, she would finally place the blame where it belonged. But no one had asked Selena or her sister if that was what they wanted. What if they preferred ignorance? What if the truth did destroy them? Adonis glimpsed this in the depths of Apollo’s shadowed expression, along with another truth that burned brighter than all the others.
“You hope that once she learns the truth she will forgive you, that she will love you again.” Apollo’s eyes filled with anguish, a unique pain shared only by the two of them. “She won’t forgive you. What you did is beyond forgiveness. Just as she will never love you. She simply cannot.”
Adonis did not want to hear it. Apollo’s words rang true, but he refused to acknowledge them aloud. To give voice to such a revelation in the light of day was to speak it into existence and he refused to. There was always hope—foolish, blind hope—but hope, nonetheless.