it might be cancer. Why?”
A grief bomb explodes somewhere in the distance. “My mother died from breast cancer.” Tears of frustration and want slip out from under my lashes and drip down the edge of my jaw. “It’s why my dad made the agreement that he did. He wanted—” He licks me, long and slow, and it’s a good thing I’m holding onto the counter because my legs give out. “He wanted access to her family trust.”
“I’ll kill him,” he whispers, and then his tongue and teeth and lips are everywhere, everywhere. He’s holding me up, supporting most of my weight, and by the time he’s tongue-fucking me with abandon he has both hands under my ass, spreading me open. I don’t know how he does it. It’s a demanding position but it doesn’t bother him at all. He’s good at this, so good at this it hurts, it makes me come on his tongue, so long and hard that the robe slips off my shoulders and gets trapped between me and the countertop.
The last wave of my orgasm is the biggest one. It shakes me to the core, it shakes the building off its foundation. The city falls. Kingdoms crumble. The sky collapses inward and who knew that the end of the world would be so beautiful?
When it’s over he pulls me into his lap, rocking back on his heels, and I drop my head onto his shoulder, aftershocks tearing through muscle and lung. He wraps his arms around me with a studied gentleness. “Your baby,” I whisper feverishly in his ear. “I’m pregnant with your baby.”
“Yes,” he says, and he sounds satisfied. Pleased.
A knock at the door crushes the moment under its heel.
10
Brigit
Zeus lets out an irritated hiss and gets us both to our feet. I could collapse into bed right now and sleep the rest of my life, but no. Not now. Not with someone at the door. In the hall he nudges me toward the bedroom and I go, but only so I can step into fresh clothes and splash water on my face.
Straighten my shoulders.
Go back out.
Zeus has one hand brace on the wall, his head bowed over something in his hand, and my stomach curdles.
“What is it?” Both of them straighten up like they’re caught hiding something illicit, but that’s not the baseline for a man like Zeus. Part of me wants to turn around and retreat back to the bedroom, but I don’t. I go to the foyer and cross my arms over my chest. “Which one of you is going to tell me what you found?”
It’s a picture Zeus holds now, and he hands it over to me with all the heat and light gone from his face. “James has been snooping around Demeter’s business.”
Then he turns and walks away, a leisurely stroll through the living room.
“Someone had to do it,” James calls after him.
“Not you, if you’re hoping to keep your job.” Zeus disappears into the kitchen. I hear the freezer open and close and meet James’s eyes before I look at the picture.
“You keep going back, but—”
“I’m not turning my back on them.” His jaw ticks. “It’s getting worse.”
I’m afraid to ask what he means, and it turns out I don’t have to. The glossy photo in my hands is proof.
It’s taken with a zoom lens through a window. A nice one, I think, since it’s not very grainy, even though you can tell it was taken from a distance. One of Zeus’s women is centered in the frame, her hands up against the window. And the man behind her, with his hand around her throat—I recognize him. He watched Zeus finger-fuck me in his lounge my first week at the whorehouse. I’ll never forget his eyes.
And the girl—
I don’t know her name, can’t remember it, and that makes me feel the most guilty. She’s hurt, a bruise painted across her face, and the way she’s standing looks painful. It’s difficult to tell from the picture, but there’s a suggestion of marks around her neck, peeking out from behind his hand. I fold the picture in half and try to ignore the sting of tears in my eyes.
“This is really bad,” I tell him. James nods, face solemn.
“Are you staying for a drink?” Zeus steps out of the kitchen and back into the living room, a glass in his hand. “Or are you going to leave me in peace and keep your job?” He’s smiling, but it’s filled with warning.
“I’ll