“Because I’m married now, Damien. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t put my wife first?”
“You’d be just like every other husband in the world. That’s not why you’re doing this. You’re doing this because you’re in love with her… That’s the big difference.”
19
Sofia
Hades had been in a bad mood for the past week. He worked long hours, he came home late, sometimes skipped dinner, and the only time we really had together was when we were fucking. Then he went to sleep and was gone early the next morning.
He probably had to catch up on all the work he’d missed, but he didn’t give me a lot of details. I tried not to ask because it seemed to put him in a worse mood.
When he admitted he had another reason to reconcile with his brother, I couldn’t figure out what that reason could possibly be. And I couldn’t figure out why it had to be a secret either. But I had to remind myself that this was his personal business, his family, and if he wanted to talk about it, he would.
But if he had told me the truth…maybe I could’ve helped.
I was sitting on the couch in the bedroom with my laptop on my thighs, a glass of wine beside me, and I was drinking earlier than I usually did. Every time I grabbed the glass, my wedding ring tapped loudly against the surface. I brought it to my lips for a drink just when Hades walked through the door.
He stepped inside, stealthy in a black suit and a matching tie. The color matched his brooding nature, matched his scruff along his jaw. The first thing he did was walk to his dresser and open the top drawer. On the surface was an assortment of watches he’d collected over the years. He unclasped the one he wore and placed it inside.
“You look like a serious collector.” I set my glass down and rose to my feet.
He shed his jacket from his broad shoulders and tossed it on the chair. Next, he grabbed the front of his tie and loosened it.
I walked to the drawer and looked down at the collection of watches. All different, all unique. Some were white gold, some were black, and some had leather straps. “Did you buy all of these?”
He unbuttoned his shirt, undoing each button until the shirt opened and revealed his perfect physicality. “No.” He pulled his shirt off his arms and tossed it aside. Now he stood with perfect posture, tight arms, and a core so strong he was nothing but lines and muscle. “Most of them were gifts.” He reached inside and grabbed a white-gold one. He turned it over and showed me the engraving underneath. “Damien gave me this for my birthday a few years ago.”
I could see the small letters. It read, Happy Birthday, Asshole.
“That was sweet…” The corners of my lips tugged into a smile when I read the message his closest friend wrote.
He returned the watch back to the velvet lining.
“Can I look at them?”
He turned to me, giving me that intense stare that always made me melt. “You can do whatever you want, baby. Everything you see, it’s yours.” He wasn’t trying to be romantic, but when he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me tight for a kiss, it was the most romantic thing in the world. He kissed me with aggressive lips, giving me tongue the second he had me. His hand reached down to my ass for a tight squeeze then a gentle spank. When he was done, he grabbed my glass of wine and took a drink.
I looked down at the watches, my lips burning after the scorching kiss he’d just given me. My fingertips absentmindedly touched my mouth, and I swore I could feel the heat of his kiss. After the moment passed, I studied the collection of watches. There must’ve been at least a dozen. I picked up a dark one, a watch with a black face. It was simple, sleek, smooth; it seemed to match his personality well. I glided my thumb over the glass, seeing the second hand tick by. When I turned it over, I spotted another engraving.
Andrew
From, Dad
I stared at it for a moment before I returned it to the case. When I glanced at Hades, he had downed the entire glass of wine. His belt was pulled out of the loops, and he set it on top of his dresser.
I considered confronting him about the watch, but I suspected it would only provoke bad memories. I walked toward him and pressed my palms against his bare chest. “Long day?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’ve been in a bad mood all week.”
His brown eyes stayed focused on mine, conveying his annoyance and frustration, not at me, but at the situation. He seemed to soften at my touch, to be invigorated at my affection, so he slid his hand up my neck and into my hair. He lightly tucked a strand behind my ear and held me the way a woman wanted to be held. “I have to tell you something.”