Descent

by Knight, Natasha

  “And what do I tell my dad when he wakes up? I sold him out to his enemies?”

  I don’t reply. Thing is, he isn’t going to wake up, and if by some miracle he does, he won’t be the same. Not with an injury like he sustained.

  Karma’s finally paying him back. I do wish I were the one who dealt the blow, though.

  “The name of the company stays the same,” she says.

  I nod.

  “And whoever you hire to take my father’s place has to consult me on any major decisions.”

  I snort. “I don’t think so.”

  She grits her teeth. “What about my job?”

  “You want to keep your job?”

  She nods.

  “Fine.”

  She quiets. “Fine?”

  “You’ll report to me.”

  She’s hesitant. “I don’t like this.”

  I shrug a shoulder. The odds are stacked against her. She’ll agree. “This is entirely up to you. You can walk away. Right now.”

  “And pack my bags? Tell Lizzie we have nowhere to go?”

  “I told you once before not to play the victim card. It’s not who you are. Not someone I’d offer a deal like this to.”

  She quiets and I listen to her breathe, watch her think. “So, you just expect me to sign this?”

  “Yes.”

  “This isn’t right.”

  “Right and wrong, like luck, are a matter of perspective. I’m making a concession. You get to keep your job.”

  She takes a moment then gets up, walks past me to my desk. She bends to pick up a pen and my gaze shifts to her ass in those tight pants. She amends the contract to state her position at the company then scratches her signature on the contract and something feels different. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

  Taking her family down has been the thing that’s driven me for the last five years. I’m half-way done.

  But with her, there’s something else.

  I want her. She and I, there’s always been something between us. But it’s not just some romantic bullshit.

  Persephone Abbot belongs to me. She always has. And now, she belongs in my bed, too. And I’ll make sure she stays there no matter what I have to do.

  She closes the lid on the pen, sets it on top of the contract and turns to me. “What happens now?”

  “What happens now?”

  She nods.

  “You take off your clothes.”

  6

  Persephone

  “What?”

  “Take off your clothes,” he says more slowly, as if I’m hard of hearing or slow to follow.

  I stare at him while he moves to sit down on the leather armchair.

  He raises his eyebrows and crosses one ankle over the opposite knee.

  “We’re doing this here?” I hear the slight tremor in my voice. Does he? “Now?”

  He gives me a slow nod while his gaze slides over me. “You insisted, remember?”

  Okay. Well. It’s going to happen sooner or later. What did I expect? A date? Dinner? I guess he did give me lunch.

  But it’s hard. Harder than it should be, maybe. At least harder than I thought it would be with him.

  I pull the sleeves of my hoodie into my palms and shift my gaze out the window. Snow is coming down hard, melting as soon as it hits the window, leaving wet streaks on the glass.

  I can’t do this. Not like this.

  Traffic has slowed. I don’t hear it—I don’t hear any noises from outside—but I see it in the blinking red brake lights.

  Why did I think I could do this?

  “Problem?” comes his deep voice.

  Gasping, I jump. I didn’t realize he’d gotten up. Or that he’s so close behind me that when I turn, I crash into his chest. I can’t help but inhale his scent. Powerful and dark and reeking of man.

  I can’t do this.

  His gaze sweeps my face, pauses at my mouth before returning to my eyes. He raises his hand, fingers light as a feather against my temple when he pushes a lock of hair back. He doesn’t speak, not right away.

  If I do this, I’m finished.

  “She wasn’t the same when she came back,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a whisper.

  “What?”

  “Persephone. She was different.”

  I lick my lips, swallow.

  “Hades stained her,” he adds.

  I blink, taking in his words, trying to breathe as his dark eyes devour me.

  “Like you’re going to stain me,” I say weakly.

  He studies me, and I see the past in his eyes. I see that night. The Halloween party. The drink. Jonas. Nora.

  I remember him coming into the chapel. Remember the broken door slamming against the stone wall and the icy, wet wind. I remember shivering on that stone slab.

  He’d looked like an angel that night. One who’d fallen lifetimes ago. The darkness that surrounded him, I remember that too.

  I see how he looked at Jonas. And I see how he looked at me lying there. Being made to lie there.

  Rage.

  Like he would murder Jonas.

  After he lifted me in his arms, there was lightning, then my memory goes dark for a while. I don’t recall the walk back to the house. Don’t recall him laying me in my bed or undressing me. I know I couldn’t stand my clothes, my skin burning, itching like a million ants were crawling over me.

  But I do remember how he looked at me when I was naked.

  And I can still see him afterward.

  An animal licking his lips after feasting. Me beneath him my legs open. My body slick with sweat and chilled with rain at the same time on that icy night.

  “What if I say no?” I ask.

  “You won’t,” he says, and he’s not mocking me. Just talking. “It’s what you’ve always wanted. I’m giving you what you’ve always wanted. What you’re too weak to ask for yourself.”

  “I’m not weak.” But he’s right.

  Hades and I, there’s something that binds us. It’s always been like this with us. Like a moth to the flame.

  Except that I don’t know which of us is the moth and which the flame that will burn the other.

  He grips my wrists roughly, pushing them behind my back, holding them in one of his hands. His gaze burns with hunger. He’s ravenous. But does he know that hunger will devour us both?

  “I made a mistake with you,” he mutters, eyes out of focus. I think he’s talking more to himself than me.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head and his eyes come back into focus. And when they do, they’re harder. He grips the zipper of the hoodie and his tone is different. “When I tell you to take off your clothes you take off your clothes.” He unzips me as he speaks and in moments, the hoodie is hanging open leaving me exposed in just a bra.

  He doesn’t look down as he pushes his big hand into the waistband of my yoga pants.

  “Hayden,” I start, trying to wriggle free of his grasp.

  I should tell him now.

  He slides his hand deeper and I gasp when his fingers slip into my underwear, into the neat mound of hair there before they curl around my sex.

  Predator.

  Run.

  But he has me and I can’t. I wouldn’t if I could.

  “You should…I…”

  He flicks his thumb across my clit and my breath catches. He watches me, eyes locked on mine while two fingers slide inside me.

  I rise up to tiptoe.

  He pauses, a look of surprise crossing his features. He moves his fingers again, testing.

  I grit my teeth, not sure what I expect him to do.

  He tilts his head, a question in his eyes.

  I swallow.

  He tests again.

  “Persephone?”

  I just stare up at him feeling my face burn.

  “Are you a virgin?”

  Should I lie? Does it matter? I mean, he can tell, obviously he can tell.

  He moves his fingers again, pressin
g against the barrier.

  “Persephone?” His eyebrows furrow.

  “Does it matter?” I’m trying to sound just a little in control but my voice quakes. “I mean, it’s proof I wasn’t lying about Jonas at least,” I try to sound casual while I’m anything but.

  “Persephone—”

  “Is it off? Our deal?” I’m not sure a man like him has much use for a virgin when he can bed any woman he wants and preferably an experienced one.

  He studies me wordlessly and all I can do is stare up at him, at the green-gold ring around dilated black pupils.

  “Is it?” I ask again.

  He shakes his head, pulls his hand free. “No.”

  7

  Hayden

  She’s a virgin.

  Fuck.

  This changes things.

  The elevator dings.

  Persephone gasps, turning as the doors slide open. I look at my brother’s face as he steps into my office. I register his momentary surprise, but he’s quick to hide it and a grin spreads across his face.

  Ares and I are identical twins, each a mirror image of the other. I wonder if she notices the small details. The cleft in my right eyebrow, my brother’s matching one in his left. The dimple in my right cheek, his on his left.

  “Didn’t realize you had company, brother.” Ares says. He doesn’t step back onto the elevator, and he isn’t subtle as his gaze sweeps a partially undressed Persephone before I can shield her from his view.

  “What’s going on?” Persephone asks, panicked as she adjusts her yoga pants.

  “I told you this wasn’t a good time, didn’t I?” I tug her hoodie together and zip it up. I lean into her ear. “Were you saving yourself for me?” I whisper so only she hears me.

  “What?” She draws back, confused and embarrassed.

  “You remember my brother, Ares?” I ask, stepping to the side once she’s covered.

  She stares at him as if she can’t believe this is happening.

  “Ares, Persephone,” I say to him.

  Ares pours himself a whiskey and gives her a one-sided grin. “Percy Abbot. You were always a pretty thing. Although seeing this, I do have to wonder about your taste in men.” He winks.

  Her cheeks burn red as she fumbles with the hoodie’s zipper, trying to tug it even higher.

  I drink a sip of whiskey. “You’re early,” I tell Ares.

  He shifts his gaze to me, and the playful smile vanishes. “I have shit to do. I don’t work for you, remember. Don’t expect me to appear at your summons.”

  Persephone grabs her coat, puts it on and hugs it to herself. Her face is still fiery red when she turns back to me.

  I take her elbow and walk her to the elevator where the doors open immediately. “Shane will take you home. I’ll pick you up for dinner at eight,” I tell her, pushing the button for the lobby.

  “I’m not—”

  The doors slide closed. “There’s also an auction you’ll attend with me tomorrow night. I’ll send some dresses. Pick one.”

  “What auction?”

  “Be ready.” The elevator doors open. I hold the door open and watch her.

  “So that’s it?” she asks.

  “What did you expect?” I look over her head to Peter. “Have Shane take Ms. Abbot home.”

  “I have my own car,” she says as Peter confirms.

  “It’s snowing.”

  “I’m capable of driving in snow. I drove here.”

  I look her over. “My point.”

  “I’ll drive myself.”

  “I take care of what’s mine.”

  “You mean you humiliate what’s yours. And temporarily yours, by the way.”

  Temporarily. My eyes narrow. I step toward her. “I warned you it wasn’t a good time. You insisted.”

  “And also, I’m not yours. We don’t live in the dark ages.”

  “Yes, you are. Accept it.” She opens her mouth as I check my watch. “You’ll want to hurry if you want to be there when they move your father.”

  “What?”

  “They’ll be at your house in a few minutes.”

  “But—”

  “Take a nap, too. You look like you need some rest.”

  “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

  “Miss,” Peter says.

  She turns to him, then back to me.

  “Shane is outside.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, but I speak first. “Goodbye, Persephone.”

  I’m not sure what’s making her cheeks burn so red, the fact that she’s embarrassed or that she’s angry, but I pull my arm back and watch her until the elevator doors slide closed and she disappears from view.

  8

  Persephone

  Shane doesn’t speak a word while he brings me home and someone else follows driving my Jeep, parking it on the driveway just out of the way of the ambulance standing there.

  I slip out of the car and head to the house. A man opens both front doors before I even get up the stairs. He’s in a medical uniform.

  Celia walks outside, smiling when she sees me. “Percy, I’m glad you made it! I wasn’t sure you would, and I know you wanted to be here for this.”

  Behind her I see my father’s already been arranged on a gurney, the equipment he’s attached to close behind.

  “How is he?” I ask, going right to him. I pull the blanket up a little higher and fix his hair. “I should have cut his hair,” I say absently. “I left it too long.”

  Celia’s hand is on my shoulder. “We’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

  I turn to her and she wipes a tear from my face. I didn’t realize I’d started crying.

  “It’s going to be okay, Percy. I know this is better for him and for you and Lizzie. I would tell you if it weren’t.”

  “I know. It’s just…I hate seeing him like this. I guess I’m still not used to it.”

  “I understand. But you need to leave him with us now. You can visit as often as you like.” She glances down but doesn’t mention my mismatched sneakers. “You have to look after yourself, too. And Lizzie, I guess, with Irina leaving.”

  “Where is Lizzie?” I ask, not seeing her here.

  “She went to her friend’s house. I thought it’d be okay since I was here.”

  “She already left? I told her I’d drive her.”

  “I think it’s hard for her to see her father like this.”

  I look down at him again. He’s shrunk a little, I think. He was so vibrant. Larger than life.

  When I turn back to Celia, she’s nodding, smiling sympathetically.

  “We’d better get him in the ambulance,” one of the men says.

  “Yes,” Celia answers. “Before he gets cold.”

  I nod, lean down to kiss my father’s forehead. “I’ll come as soon as I can. I promise,” I whisper, holding onto his hand.

  There’s no response. No squeezing of my fingers, no blink or anything to acknowledge if he’s even heard me.

  Celia pats my shoulder and I step backward. The men roll him out, lifting the stretcher to carry it down the stairs while two others follow with the equipment.

  “In addition to mine, here’s a phone number you can call anytime,” Celia says, handing me a card.

  “You’ll still be his nurse?”

  “Yes.” She’s still smiling. “Listen, Percy, get some rest and think things through. Think about your future. What you want. I know you’ve been worrying. What’s happened is a lot for anyone to manage and you have Lizzie to look out for on top of everything. It’s time you planned for yourself and for her. Let us take care of your father and you take care of yourself.”

  I’m going to full on sob if this continues. I know what she’s trying to say. It’s just a message I don’t want to hear and so I nod and wipe the heels of my hands across my eyes.

  “Ready,” one of the men says.

  “Coming,” Celia says. She turns to me. “I’ll call you once he’s settled.”
/>
  “Thanks. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. You’re doing the right thing.”

  She walks out and a few minutes later the driver pulls away. I stand there and watch as snow sticks to the grass and the street, only closing the door once the ambulance is out of sight.

  Turning back into the house is strange. It’s so eerily quiet now with Irina and Lizzie gone. With dad and his machines gone. I didn’t realize I’d always paid attention for them down here too. Always aware of the soft sounds of the monitors, waiting for any change.

  I walk into the kitchen, seeing in my periphery the empty living and dining rooms, trying not to think about it.

  I’ve bought us some time and I have my job.

  And all I had to do for it was sell my soul.

  I remember the look on Hayden’s face when he realized I was a virgin. It was strange, like it meant something.

  But then the image of Ares walking into his office flashes across my mind and I close my eyes against it. Hayden knew he’d come. He knew it and still humiliated me. I guess he was teaching me a lesson.

  I make a cup of tea and stand at the counter drinking it, watching the snow as it thickens and becomes denser. I drink half of it before thinking I should check on Lizzie.

  My purse is still in the study along with the black envelope on the desk. I ignore the envelope and dig for my phone in the bag. I see a text from Lizzie when I pick it up.

  “Battery’s low and I forgot my charger, so I’ll see you when I’m back. Probably wait out the snow here. Dad’s fine. Celia was there when I left.”

  I text her back. “Have a nice night. See you tomorrow.” I don’t want to pester her about the fact that I’m sure at least one other person at Marigold’s house has an iPhone charger she can borrow.

  I see a missed call from Jonas. I’m surprised. He hasn’t tried to call me in months.

  At first, after I broke off the engagement, it was nightly. He was always drunk. I finally stopped picking up, so he left messages. He only stopped leaving those when I threatened to go to the police. I never want to see Jonas Montgomery again. Just the thought of him makes my skin crawl.