Page 48 of Inked Desires

After a while, I return to the studio. My stomach twists and my throat tightens, but I don’t waver.

I open the door and step inside.

“Arès?” my voice echoes in the room.

No answer.

I head toward the back room, its door slightly ajar. I push it gently so it won’t creak.

The scene that awaits freezes me. A brutal blow to the heart. My breath stops. William is pressed against him. His hand glides over Arès’chest. And Arès, unfazed, watches him without reacting. A soft smile plays on his lips as he looks at him through his lashes.

To him, I was nothing but a pastime, a substitute. A temporary distraction to forget his ex-husband. Every word had been a lie.

I stand there, unable to move, heart heavy, eyes burning.

“Andrew,” he says, straightening up.

A bitter smile twists my lips. I try to keep a poker face, but my body betrays my feelings.

With a look full of disgust, he pushes William’s hands away from his chest.

“That’s not what you think,” he continues insistently.

I burst out laughing. Of course... That excuse is as old as time.

“Seriously, Arès?” I shout.“Don’t take me for an idiot. At least be honest.”

All self-control leaves me. I know my behavior is inappropriate and I might regret it later, but for now, I don’t care.

He steps toward me, hand outstretched, but I back away immediately. I don’t want him to come closer. His betrayal burns in my veins, and nothing he says or does will change that.

“Andrew, I would never do that to you,” he repeats.

“Baby, leave him alone, it’s not worth it,” William interrupts, stepping into our exchange.

Those words make my blood boil. He called him“baby” as if he still owned him. They’re divorced, damn it! I refuse to witness this for one more second. It’s over!

I turn abruptly and head for the studio. The key slips surprisingly easily into the lock. I push the door open and rush into his apartment. I hear him behind me, but his words don’t penetrate the wall of my anger.

Once in his room, I grab my backpack and start stuffing in the few things I own. My whole life fits into one bag. I have nothing precious, no friends or family who would mourn me if I died today. If I disappeared without a trace, my existence wouldn’t even be proven.

“Why are you packing?” he asks, voice breaking the painful silence I’m drowning in.

“What do you think? I’m getting out!”

His hand stops me mid-motion, preventing me from throwing more things into the bag.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls.

Once, his tone would have scared me. I would have lowered my eyes, bowed under his control like I learned to do all those years. Today, everything is different. I’m doomed.

“Let go, asshole.”

His fingers tighten on my skin and I look down. He’s going to leave marks on me, too.

“I told you to let me go,” I insist, voice trembling with rage.

“Where do you want to go?” he demands.“Sit down and talk to me.”