His fingers wrapped around mine for a short squeeze then he let me go.
Thankfully, the waiter showed at that point with our appetizers.
“Ulfr.” Danforth clapped Apollo on the back and it was a wonder Apollo’s shoulder didn’t jerk forward at the strength of the blow. “I’ll leave you to your meal, your lady and your”—he glanced meaningfully at the champagne—“celebrations.”
“My gratitude,” Apollo replied, his words short, his tone tight.
The man turned to me. “Pleasure.”
“Yes,” I agreed, feeling weird about what was happening and stupid because I had no clue how to act in this situation as “Lady Ulfr.”
He swept away and Apollo sat down as the waiter set our plates in front of us.
And as Apollo sat, he muttered, “Bloody hell.”
The waiter bowed and moved away and I leaned in immediately.
“What was that?” I asked in a low voice.
Apollo moved his angry gaze that was directed to his plate to me and he rearranged his features instantly.
He was hiding something.
Not good.
“I’ll explain later, dove,” he murmured.
Oh no. He wasn’t getting to me with that sweet, lovely “dove” business.
“Apollo, what was that?” I repeated.
His eyes grew intense on mine and he also repeated, “I’ll explain later, Maddie.”
Telling myself he was not Pol, not Pol, not Pol, I still couldn’t stop myself from thinking about a Pol who dealt drugs for a living and thus kept a variety of things from me. Not that I wanted to know, but it still didn’t feel nice, as secrets never did.
A Pol that decided what house we lived in without much input from me (as in, none). A Pol who also decided what car I would drive, ditto the input. And with this kind of thing I could go on (and on).
And he was a Pol who had a variety of things on his mind, stressors in his life (seeing as he was a drug dealer, one high up the food chain, but one nonetheless) and he didn’t share those concerns with me through anything but his fists.
Apollo was not Pol.
But I’d learned through Pol that I didn’t like things kept from me.
I would not want to know Pol’s dealings. What I did know, I didn’t like. What I did know was another reason to leave him. And he knew that. So he didn’t give it to me outright and in the end, he just didn’t give me anything but good sex and bad times.
And maybe he didn’t because he knew if it was out in the open, I’d betray him to the police. Or I’d hate him and do it for more reasons other than the fact that he made me keep secrets too. Secrets that I detested. The biggest one being that I lived in fear of him, and every second of every day I had to live a lie and hide that.
But that was moot now.
I understood Apollo was not Pol.
But I wasn’t going to start a relationship with a man who held anything back from me.
I leaned deeper into the table and enunciated clearly, “Apollo…what…was…that?”
He studied me, he did it for a long time and he did it with conflicted eyes.
Then he made his decision.