TWENTY
Rubin
Simone had the gall to look at me like she was sorry, and even worse, when she spoke, she sounded sincere.
“I apologize, Rubin, for leaving, but I needed to come check on Aaron.”
“You needed to check on Aaron,” I repeated.
It wasn’t like me to fill dead space with words that weren’t necessary, but I needed to do something to maintain a modicum of control.
Because she’d really meant it. She’d needed to check on Aaron, and sincerely believed that was an excuse to disobey me.
“I did. I hadn’t seen him after…and I just…I need him to be okay.”
Her eyes were almost teary, and it was sickening. “You were worried I was going to kill Aaron. Or let one of those things get him?”
I saw Aaron stand up a little straighter. “Rubin,” he said, “it’s cool.”
I kept my gaze on her.
“It’s all right, Aaron,” Simone said.
I frowned, and Aaron looked at me again.
“We’re in a world of mess right now. We need to—”
“We are, which is why Simone needs to be where I tell her to be,” I said.
“She understands that. Don’t you, Moni?”
I gritted my teeth at the sound of that ridiculous nickname.
“I do understand,” Simone said, looking at Aaron and then looking at me. Her eyes were pleading, begging, but I didn’t feel even a flicker of the excitement I had hoped for, because she was pleading and begging for Aaron, not for my forgiveness.
She feared me, and I’d earned every ounce of it. But she could look past that fear for him.
“I have work for you,” I said, my mind ringing with the danger of pursuing that line of thought.
“Of course,” she said quickly.
“You’re not going to ask what it is?”
“No,” she responded.
“Aaron, go do cleanup,” I said.
Aaron hesitated for a split second, like he would dare contradict me.
“Go, Aaron,” Simone said, shifting so that her body was between Aaron and me.
I sneered. “Yes, Aaron. Go,” I parroted.
“What’s the work you need me to do, Rubin?”
She was still standing so that her body blocked the hallway where Aaron was quickly moving. She meant to use those soft, ripe curves that even now my hands itched to touch as a shield. Like she didn’t care if I went through her to get to him.
“What is he to you?” I asked when he was finally out of sight.
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” She blinked, looking confused.
Simone was never confused, and the anger I had fought to keep at bay came raging back.
“Don’t play stupid, Simone. You’re not very good at it.”
She stood up a bit taller. “Rubin, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What is he to you? Do you have some kind of daddy issues?”
She cracked a smile, one that left me in the state of confusion she had been trying to mimic.
“I have a dumpster full of daddy issues, but Aaron doesn’t have anything to do with them. What question are you asking me, Rubin?”
“What is he to you?”
She looked off in the distance, considering, before she met my eyes again.
“He’s the person who didn’t make fun of me because I didn’t talk till I was seven.
And he’s the person who knew that I liked cinnamon toaster pastries and not strawberry ones, and who cared enough to see that I actually had a chance to eat them or anything at all for that matter, at least three nights a week.
And he’s the person who introduced me to Nana.
He’s the person who introduced me to you. ”
There were no theatrics in her words, no trembling voice, no tears on the verge of spilling. There was only the truth of how Aaron had cared for her when no one else had. My men would die for me. But they didn’t love me like Simone loved Aaron.
I grabbed her wrist, ignoring the way she flinched at my touch, and we walked down the hall.
“What is this?” she said, looking around at the storage room.
“Hopefully something that will help us survive. You figure out what it is.”
There were boxes stacked, toilet tissue, some other things. I hadn’t bothered to look.
She rubbed her arms. “I hope there aren’t any rats in here,” she whispered as she glanced at the telltale black pellets on the floor and boxes.
“You’ll be fine. Now inventory this,” I said.
Something flashed in her eye, but then shook her head. “Let me get my clipboard.”
She stared at me, waiting. And I stared back.
Do you love him?
The question I wouldn’t dare ask, one that I wanted the answer to. But it didn’t matter. She could love him, she could not.
Because loving Aaron changed nothing.
She was mine.