Page 46

Zeus

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

I didn't plan to say any of that.

I sure as hell didn't plan to tell my girl I love her for the first time in my life in the middle of a children's party, in the presence of three small children and her mother. However, now that the words are out, it's such a fucking relief to finally understand what an emotional rollercoaster I've been on since I got back from New Orleans.

In my peripheral vision, I notice Eleanor walk away with Joseph, leaving the twins with us.

"You don't need to say that to get me back."

It’s not what I expected to hear.

Does she really believe I would do that? That to have her in my bed, I would fake feelings?

Maybe, despite all our time together, she still thinks I'm a scoundrel?

I get up without looking at her anymore, and hand-in-hand with the twins, I walk away.

My phone rings, and I know it's Dionysus. He’s going to meet me here because, besides my nephew not being very sociable, as Madison rightly pointed out, his enthusiasm for playing has an expiration date.

"What time do you want me to come by and pick him up?" he asks when I answer.

"You don't need to come. I'll just let him play for a little while, and then I'll bring him to you."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes," I lie. I hang up and follow the twins, who’ve already let go of my hands.

Soraya, very excited about her achievement of taking her first steps, now no longer stays still.

I look at the surrounding environment—mothers, nannies, and children—and I imagine myself in a few years, celebrating my children's birthdays.

The image of Madison comes to my mind, even though I don't want to think about her or the future. Yes, I was fucking wrong to hide my situation with Gordon, but it's not only up to me to try to fix things. She is a grown woman and will have to find the courage to take a risk.

An hour later, after they sing “Happy Birthday,” I get ready to leave.

Joseph is sleeping on my lap, and after nodding to some of the people present and talking to Eleanor, I get up, holding him, and go look for Madison.

She's sitting between two mothers, with Silas in her arms, also asleep.

"I'm leaving," I mouth.

She looks at me as if she wants to say something, but then she just nods her head in agreement. Her lack of attitude, of not even getting up to come with me to the door, eats me up inside. I leave without looking back.

Maybe I'm mistaken. The passion she claimed to feel for me was just that: passion . A cuter name for physical attraction.

After leaving my nephew with his father, I head straight home. Before I met her, I would normally be working—even on the weekend—but today I just want to forget.

Or not think . That's a better term.

So as soon as I arrive at my apartment, I take off my shoes, socks and shirt, and after pouring myself a generous dose of whiskey, I sit down to watch the storm that has started to break from my penthouse living room.

Whenever she's here, Madison goes outside because she says she loves the view.

When I bought this property, the only reason was because it was a good investment, on the advice of one of my lawyers.

In fact, just a few years after paying twenty million dollars for it, it appreciated in value more than double. But it has never been more than that to me: property. Because of Madison, however, I’ve begun to notice details that I previously overlooked.

How pleasant it is, right now, to watch the relentless rain hit the glass door.

I get up and open it without caring about the wet wind that hits my chest.

And it's because of the sound of the rain that I almost don't hear the doorbell ring.

I have doubts about answering, because it could only be one of the bodyguards. It's rare for them to come up, and I've already dismissed them for today, so before heading to the door, I check my phone to see if there are any urgent messages.

There aren't, but then the intercom rings.

I go to the kitchen.

"Good evening, Mister Kostanidis. Miss Foster has just come up."

I hang up and walk slowly to the living room. The doorman is always allowed to let her up. She even has the code that opens the apartment.

She doesn't ring the doorbell again or open up herself, as if she’s waiting for me to make up my mind.

My pulse quickens when I touch the doorknob, and I force myself to calm down.

It's not a good time to see each other. I have been going against my nature over the last few days, respecting her space, when all I want is to use all my weapons, any weapon, including seduction, to convince her that there are no longer separate paths for the two of us.

When we're finally face-to-face, she stares at me, looking a little anxious.

There are some rain splashes on her clothes and hair. Madison seems devoid of the usual petulance with which she always confronts me, even in our moments of intimacy.

There are two girls inside her: the passionate wildcat who gives me everything I demand in bed, and the good girl, responsible aunt and daughter, who only lets her guard down for those who, as she rightly told me, are the ones who really count in her life.

Neither of them speak, and not trusting myself, after taking another sip of whiskey, I leave the door open and head inside.

I hear her footsteps as she enters.

I go to the door that leads to the pool—which is still open—and breathe in the smell of the storm.

It's not enough to control the furious desire that takes over my body. What I feel is not just a physical hunger—it's a need to have her in my life.

I go outside before I do something I'll regret and let the rain hit me.