CHAPTER TWO
DIONYSUSCURSEDEVERY deity he didn’t believe in as he held Ariadne in his arms for the first time in ten years.
This was not how that fantasy played out in his mind.
This was not a fantasy at all. She was dangerously pale, and now completely unconscious.
He signaled to the bartender. “Tell Lazlo I need a helicopter immediately. And have them call ahead to the hospital.”
He would not be taking her to the kind of medical facility available to everyone.
Lazlo would know that. As manager of the Diamond Club and right-hand man to its founder Raj Belanger, the richest man in the world, Lazlo trafficked only in the elite, the discreet, and the luxurious.
There was no time to waste.
He knew that by the time he reached the top of the building the helicopter would be waiting. Picking Ariadne up, and holding her close to his chest, he rushed into the gilded elevator, the doors closing behind them. He felt something on his hand and looked, seeing streaks of red on his palm.
She was bleeding.
She was far too pale.
Ariadne...
Dionysus, for all the world to see, cared for nothing and no one.
The truth of him was much more complicated. He moved quickly in order to silence his demons, and he had a ready smile in order to keep a tight leash on his rage. Right now, his rage knew no bounds.
Because Theseus should be here. The world was cruel, but it had no right to be cruel to his brother, who had done the right things. Who had lived a life his father was proud of and married the perfect wife, who was supposed to have his perfect child.
Rage because Ariadne was now pale and limp and he couldn’t even begin to think through what was happening to her, because if she didn’t survive this...
There really would be nothing and no one in this whole world that he cared about.
Dionysus had thought, back when he had been younger, and he had longed for things to be different, that he would give any amount of fortune if Ariadne would look at him the way that she did Theseus.
But like most everyone, she had known that Theseus was the better bet for a life of stability.
And then this.
Theseus was meant to make her happy. It had been the one consolation he’d felt and even if he had no longer been as close to his brother...
He saw his brother. He had meals with him. They dined at the club often enough but they had never been truly close since the night of the engagement party.
How could they be?
Now Theseus was dead and there was no hope of repairing it. He might have despised himself then if he hadn’t been so consumed with worry about Ariadne.
The elevator seemed to be taking far too long.
It arrived at the top floor, finally, and the doors opened. And the helicopter was there. He rushed across the space, holding her tightly, and climbed inside. The wind and the sound made her stir, but only just slightly.
“Hurry,” he said when they got in.
And they were off. Careening over the city of London, the lights below twinkling. On their way to the only hospital he would trust with her.
If she lost the baby...
Of course, she was losing the baby. And that would mean his father would try to wrest control of the company back.
But all he cared about right now was that Ariadne lived.
He didn’t care about much. He had long ago let go of the concept of anything sacred or divine. He had sold his soul for parts as he had worked tirelessly to prove his father wrong, and drink himself into oblivion just as tirelessly. Moved from one woman’s bed to the next.
Yes. He had decided to fashion himself entirely after his namesake. The god of wine and debauchery.
Because why not?
He wasn’t the oldest son.
But now his brother was gone.
They were only minutes away from the medical facility in Bath, formerly one of the buildings that had housed Roman Baths people used to flock to for healing. He didn’t care how picturesque it was, only that they might find healing there.
Part of the building had been modernized, with a helipad on top, and when they landed a team came out quickly, and he deposited Ariadne onto a gurney, his arm suddenly feeling bereft. Empty. He looked down and saw blood staining his clothes.
He followed quickly.
Nobody tried to tell him not to follow. It would have been a foolish thing to do.
She was wheeled into a room that looked like a standard hospital room. But he supposed this was where they had to work to make her stable. And work they did.
She was hooked up to IVs, and monitors. Whole teams worked to revive her. “She hasn’t lost enough blood to need a transfusion,” one of the doctors said.
“Good,” he said.
“She miscarried,” said another doctor.
He wanted to growl and turn something over. Because it was obvious she had lost the baby. Was she going to lose her life?
She had lost this last piece of Theseus, and he felt that pain deep inside himself. But she’d also lost this last piece of the future she’d been hoping for.
And the last piece needed for her to secure the inheritance.
Ariadne was losing everything.
“This doesn’t leave the room,” he said. “None of this.”
“Of course,” said the doctor, looking vaguely offended that Dionysus had bothered to mention the standard nondisclosure protocol of the facility.
Patient privacy was of course protected in most cases, but there was an extralegal layer of protection here, and that was essential.
It took about fifteen minutes for her to stir. It felt like hours to him.
She looked at him, oxygen tubes covering most of her expression. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry, Ariadne. You lost the baby.”
He didn’t see the point in hiding it from her. Even though he wanted to. Even though he wanted to cushion her from the truth. He could not allow her to lay there in hope knowing already that hope was lost.
He wouldn’t do that. In honor of the friendship they’d once had. In honor of how much his brother loved her, he wouldn’t do that.
And maybe even more, in honor of how much she had loved his brother.
Tears began to track down her face. “No,” she said.
Her pain was wordless, soundless. Yet it radiated from her. He felt it move deep inside of him and he didn’t know how to shield himself from it.
She was his weakness.
She always had been.
He hadn’t comforted another person in more years than he could count. He didn’t have practice with connections. But she was one of the few he had.
“I’m sorry.”
“This can’t... There’s no more... I can’t have another baby.”
Her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears. She was still beautiful. Another man would marry her. Another man would love her. She might not be able to imagine it now, but he knew it was true.
“You will someday.”
“What about now?” She swallowed hard. “It was supposed to be our baby. It was supposed to be his. What about Theseus’s legacy? This was his last chance. It was... It isn’t just that he’s lost a piece of himself wandering around in the world, he has lost all of the work that he has put into Katrakis Shipping. Everything that mattered to him. Because it did matter. This baby mattered.”
“I’m sorry, Ariadne,” he said.
“It was supposed to be...” She swallowed hard. “We were so happy to finally have a baby. When he died I thought the only bright spot was this baby. This...piece of him that would still live. That would walk in the world.”
“If you think about it,” he said, aware that he was defaulting to that shallow place inside of him that handled everything with flippancy, which had never been less appropriate than it was now, “I am a piece of him wandering in the world. We are identical. If we had planned things better, I could’ve assumed his identity.”
The words hung heavy between them.
“You’re not identical,” she said.
Something about the way she said it, the disdain in her voice, made something dark twist in his chest.
“We were identical enough,” he said.
Just then, the doctor came into the room. “Mrs. Katrakis, we are going to move you to a more comfortable space.”
“Okay,” she said.
But she looked vacant. Like she was only half there.
He lingered behind as she was wheeled away, and took out his phone. He called his PA. “Cancel my meetings for the next week. There is a pressing matter I must take care of.”
He had hired Carla primarily because she was an old dragon who yelled at him when she disapproved of him, and gave him a strange sort of structure neither of his parents had ever managed. His mother had ignored him, his father had beaten him. Carla was a happy medium.
Predictably, she sighed. “Does that mean you’re going on a bender?”
He looked around at the sterile space. “Yes. I am terribly sorry, but I currently have two supermodels ready to climb into my limo, and then into my bed. And I am not planning on curbing the adventure until it curbs itself.”
“You’re lucky that you’re charming,” she said. “Otherwise there’s no way you could have conned investors into throwing money at a business the owner is never in the office of.”
“I guess I am very lucky.”
He hung up, and made his way to the recovery area that she was being installed in. He wasn’t going to leave until she was discharged. He had done little for his brother in the last few years. And the feeling of failure was intense.
He could do this. He could stay with Ariadne.
And he would.
It was like a spa. Except here her grief had been compounded. Here, everything really did feel like it was crumbling around her.
The room she was staying in had a glorious whirlpool tub, but when she got into it, and let the hot water soothe her, it was soothing away lingering cramps. And the cramps were a reminder. A reminder of her loss.
A reminder that she had failed. She had failed this baby.
She hadn’t ever wanted to hurt like this. Who did? But Ariadne had taken so many steps to try and avoid ever feeling pain.
As a child, she’d been like another suitcase her father had to bring any time he moved. Nothing more. Like his luggage, she would appear in his new home and then get packed away again. He was invested in his relationships.
His tempestuous love affairs and marriages were so much more interesting than the little girl he’d been left with when his first marriage dissolved. Though at least he had made sure she had a place to stay, she supposed.
Her mother had simply gone away, and Ariadne had never even missed her. Because how could you miss a vapor that had never played a substantial role in your life?
She’d vowed to be a different kind of mother. It was one of the gifts she’d known her marriage would bring. Children. Children she could love and cherish. Could be there for so they weren’t lonely like she’d been.
Theseus had wanted to wait to have children. They had always planned on using artificial insemination. They didn’t have an intimate marriage, and there was no reason, with the advent of modern medicine that they had to. She wanted to rage at him now about so many things. About not doing this sooner. About not freezing embryos or banking more sperm. About not...
Not staying here with her.
He was gone. He was gone and it wasn’t fair.
It was like an aching, endless pit inside of her.
Her grief might not be what everybody thought it was, but it was deep.
He was the closest friend that she had in the world. Her most constant companion.
He was gone and so was her hope. This child had been her hope. Of being happy again. Of loving again. Of having a future that didn’t feel cold and dark and sad.
She picked her phone up and looked at her texts. James had sent her something and...she was going to have to tell him. She couldn’t, not right now, not while things were so raw and awful.
Not while they were still tentative—with Patrocles and the inheritance.
It wasn’t for her. It was for the employees. For Theseus. For James, even.
She heard footsteps in the corridor, as if the universe was reminding her that she was in fact not alone at all. Because Dionysus had not left since he had brought her here two days ago.
She set her phone back down.
“I really hate to be the one to get in the way of your preferred lifestyle,” she said.
He had barely made it to Dionysus’s funeral. He had rolled in hungover, and he had left with a woman on his arm.
“Believe me when I tell you, nothing gets in the way if I don’t want it to. You need someone to stay with you.”
“Supporting your brother a little bit late?”
That wasn’t fair. His jaw went tight.
She didn’t need her complicated Dionysus feelings rising to the fore right now.
Things were complicated enough.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry that I... I wasn’t as close with him these past years as I might have been.”
Of course they hadn’t been close. It had been a tangle of lies, and Dionysus didn’t even know that. But how could he be close to them?
When their marriage wasn’t what it seemed. When the fight they’d had at the engagement party all those years ago wasn’t about what he believed it to be.
If Dionysus knew the truth, maybe he would understand. But if Dionysus knew the truth, it would...it could undermine what Theseus had deferred his own happiness and freedom to achieve and she just wouldn’t do that.
She stood up, and walked out onto the terrace. It overlooked a beautiful courtyard with fruit trees, well-manicured pathways and perfect hedgerows. So beautiful it nearly felt like a mockery. She could see cars driving beyond all this, in the distance. Life carried on.
She wanted to stop time for a moment.
“I imagine you’ve spoken to your father about this?”
“No,” he said. “Why would I do that?”
“Because he has to know eventually. And he’ll decide I suppose if he’s going to give the company to you or to himself.”
“I have not told my father. And everybody here is under strict orders to keep things completely silent.”
“But surely at work...”
“I called. I made excuses. I said that you needed some time away to grieve.”
“I didn’t take any time away as it happened.”
“Grief is strange. It can become more intense with time. Once the shock wears away. At least, I’ve heard.”
She turned back and looked at him speculatively. Was he talking about himself? It was so impossible to tell with him. But she knew that he wasn’t unfeeling. She had known him long enough to know that he was someone who felt very deeply. At least, he had at one time. She could remember his moods, his temper, his declarations that some food or another was the best he had ever had, or that a sunset was the most beautiful.
It had changed, as he had begun to channel that into more physical pursuits. But she felt like it had to be a part of him still. Somewhere.
Which meant his grief for Theseus must be raw.
“Thank you.”
The breeze caught her hair, and she closed her eyes, trying to let go. Trying to let go of the dream that she had just lost. She visualized it. She couldn’t.
If you think about it, I am a piece of my brother out in the world.
She stilled. Everything in her suddenly alight. She turned and looked at Dionysus. “You are identical.”
“You only recently told me that we were not.”
“Not me, maybe. But genetically, you are identical.”
“Yes,” he said. “That is how identical twins work. We are the copy paste of the natural world.”
“That means that a DNA test would not be able to determine whether a child was Theseus’s or yours.” Her heart started to beat harder. Faster. “Dionysus,” she said. “I need to have your baby.”