15. Lourdes
Lourdes
One week has passed since that tense-filled morning in the penthouse. Since I saw Ares in the shower during an intimate moment, and then naked in his closet, holding a Japanese bondage rope, tempting me.
But Ares has acted like it never happened. Must come from years of contracting women to satisfy his sexual needs. Temporarily. And then he moves on.
Ares Zervas doesn’t do relationships.
I’m drowning in my horrible marriage as Ares continues to touch me unapologetically.
His hand sits at the small of my back, his long fingers resting lightly at my waist. He gives me the briefest squeeze on my forearm when he wants my attention.
It might be for show, it might be just for us. I don’t know.
We go to meetings like I haven’t seen him naked. Like he didn’t see me shudder when he ran that soft rope against my skin. Like he didn’t possibly smell my arousal.
I wonder where the boundary line between us actually lies.
Everywhere we go, I notice the way women look at him.
Receptionists, his pool of assistants on the seventh floor, and even wives of clients.
I smirk at their flirty postures and teasing smiles.
I blanch at their blatant invitations for a drink at a discreet hotel.
Whispered promises of a blow job in the bathroom.
The answer is always no.
Ares barely smiles back at anyone. Except me.
The days have gone by so fast before I realized I’ve not spoken to Sandrine. With Ares in his office talking on the phone with the door closed, I call her, and after all the usual hops, the front desk, her ward, she answers.
“Lourdes?” she says, getting on the phone, sounding unsure.
“It’s me, Jess. I’m so sorry. Things here have been…weird.” I don’t know what she remembers. I don’t know who she talks to there, so I always keep things vague. “I got a new job three weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“A nice company on Wall Street. That’s in Lower Manhattan.” I watch the shadows in Ares’s office. “I’m making great money and have access to a gym.”
I don’t tell her about the flowers or the jewelry. I don’t tell her I saw my boss naked and caught him jerking off and calling out my name. And how he looks at me sometimes as though he forgets I’m married.
And sometimes I forget, too. I fantasize that I can have a different life. That a man like Ares Zervas could love me.
“You sound happy,” Sandrine chirps.
It’s been so long since anyone said that to me. I squeeze my eyes shut. I have no one to talk to about what David is doing to me. Or what it means to be happy now because I’ve been so unhappy for so long.
“I am happy.” I hold my breath, hoping she believes it. “I want to visit you soon.”
“I would love that so much. I wish I could remember us as sisters.”
“We’re still sisters.”
“I mean, growing up together. Some of the women here talk about their sisters.”
I think about Dad’s photo albums wasting away in those boxes. “We did all the sisterly things. We cuddled in bed together. We did each other’s hair. I promise we’ll do all of that again.”
“Okay. They’re serving lunch now. I have to go.”
“Jess, wait.” I take a breath. “Did you have any more breakthroughs on your memory before the accident? Or the apartment you saw in a dream?”
“Um… No.”
I exhale. How can I protect her if I don’t know what or who to protect her against?
“Can I go eat now?”
“Yes, sweetie. I’ll call you again in a couple of days. I love you.”
“I love you, Lourdes.” She sounds so sad when she hangs up.
I take a breath to stop myself from crying. I fooled her into thinking I’m happy, but the enthusiasm she heard in my voice was me thinking about Ares at that moment.
David has been back and forth to Boston, still sleeping on the sofa when he’s home.
Things must not have gone well on the last trip. He came home aggravated two nights ago. I was just standing at the kitchen counter, staring at nothing, really. Just…thinking. Letting myself feel something for once.
For Ares, if I was being honest. How he looks at me, talks to me, like I matter. The happiness must have shown on my face, the way Sandrine heard it in my voice.
But David caught on to it, too.
“Lourdes!”
There was a question that followed. Or maybe a warning. With David, it could have been both.
I blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
Wrong answer.
“I’m fucking talking to you,” he barked.
“I’m right here. What do you w—”
I don’t remember finishing the sentence.
Only the shift. The sound of the couch whining as he got up, the chair scraping back too hard against the floor as he pushed it out of the way. The look in his eyes. Not anger. Cold hatred.
His hand closed around my throat, fingers digging in just enough to hurt, just enough to remind me to stay still.
My body reacted before my mind caught up.
My shoulders tightening, breath catching, every instinct narrowing to that moment, right before, where everything goes very still.
Where I can almost convince myself that it won’t happen this time.
It always does.
Then the room seemed to tilt as pain exploded in my cheek, then my shoulder. Like he knows it’s hard for me to work on the computer when he does that. He wants my money but resents me working for it.
Later, I stood in the bathroom, staring at my battered reflection, trying to remember what I’d been thinking about before he called my name.
I’m prompted back to the present when Ares crosses the open space and approaches my desk with the same measured pace he approaches boardroom tables in negotiations.
“What happened to your arm?” he asks, calm but coiled.
“Nothing.” I stand up. “I’ll make your afternoon espresso.”
I stupidly think Ares will go back and wait in his office.
In the private kitchen, I feel his body heat behind me. I turn around with his cup in my hand. He takes it from me and throws it in the sink where it shatters.
“I don’t care about my espresso. Show me.”
“Show you what?” I feign ignorance, trying to be strong.
His hand lifts before I can step back, fingers brushing the edge of my blouse aside just enough to reveal a purplish-black mark.
“What happened?” His jaw tightens.
“I’m figuring a way out,” I say quickly, hating the defensive tone in my own voice. “I don’t need you to fix this.”
His eyes snap to mine. “I decide what I fix and what I don’t fix.” The restraint in his voice is stretched so thin it almost hums. “If he touches you like that again—”
“I don’t want your help,” I insist softly. “That only makes me beholden to you instead of him.”
Darkness flickers across his expression. If it’s anger, I don’t think it’s at me. He acts like he wishes I was his and not married. But it bumps up against what I’ve heard about Ares Zervas. He doesn’t do relationships.
“I’m going to the Aurelian. That means you stay here. I don’t need an espresso. I need…” He steps back abruptly, adjusting his cuffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I exhale when he turns around.
That evening when I return home at my normal time, it’s not only me who’s gotten comfortable with my new hours. David didn’t expect me to walk in because a naked woman is riding his cock.
I kick the door closed. With strangled elation, I hope this gives me some kind of leverage in this relationship. That he’ll be sorry and agree it’s over. Or…
“Oh shit,” the woman says and dives off the sofa to grab her clothes. “You told me she works late.”
“She usually does,” David says, stuffing his cock back into his pants.
His bare cock.
“Get out of here,” David says.
The woman and I look at each other comically, not sure who he means.
I fold my arms and stand my ground. All those morning workouts, and eating better, and being treated with respect have made me bold. “He doesn’t mean me, bitch. I live here.”
The bitch leaves and yanks the door closed behind her.
I hold my work bag against my chest. “I want a divorce.” The words feel surprisingly steady as they leave my mouth.
David studies me for a long moment, eyes narrowing. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” I stomp toward him.
“Something is happening.” David gets up and moves toward me. “Something big. We’re moving out of here soon.”
This news hits my chest like I’ve fallen fifty feet into water, face first. “Moving? Where?”
He smiles in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Don’t fucking ask me questions. You’re my wife, and where you end up is my call.”
My stomach tightens. “Where I end up?”
“You don’t need to know the details,” he barks. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one hurts you when you get there.”
I shudder… And don’t know what part of that sentence to scream about first.
“You’re cheating on me. Face it, David. It’s over between us,” I say, following him to the bedroom where he’s loading a gun. It’s the first time I’ve seen him with any kind of weapon.
Swallowing, I back away. “Just let me go.”
He grabs my wrist and shakes it in front of my face. “This tattoo means you’re mine. I own you.”
“Fuck you.” I snap out of his hold and turn to run, but I’m pulled back by my hair.
I stagger around just in time to see a fist coming right at my face. That’s the last thing I remember.