Apollo
It’s all true, and no matter how I try to explain it away, no matter how much I tell myself she isn’t real, that this isn’t real, that I didn’t mean the words I said to her or that she means nothing to me, I know I’m only lying to myself.
And for the first time in my life, I’m frightened.
Because I know that I have to test it. I have to pull that last string and see if it all unravels.
And if it does? What then?
How can I go back to a life without her in it? I can’t. I’d rather die. I’ll sign everything over to Camilo and walk out into the sea until I can’t walk anymore. Without Cassandra, nothing will have any meaning for me.
As we walk in through the door of a restaurant, I have my arm wrapped around her shoulder. She didn’t try to resist when I put it there. Not at all. In fact, she’s pulled herself in close to my side, her curves in constant contact with my hard mass, and she feels perfect. I know I’m not the man I was in my twenties, all solid muscle and chiseled abs, but the way she fits is all I need.
This is all I need.
“I don’t think I’m properly dressed for this place,” she says, glancing around at the patrons in black tie and dinner jackets, evening dresses and pearls.
I meet the eyes of the maitre d’ and he nods as he speaks to the family in front of us. “You look beautiful. Besides, I’ve been coming here for years and the owner owes me more than one favor.”
“But I’m only in leggings and a work t-shirt.” She grabs the shirt right by her tit, and I almost keel over as she pushes it into my face. “Look, it says Rose’s Petals.”
I grunt in response, my cock swelling another inch behind my zipper. The only petals I’m thinking about right now are between her thighs. Part of me wants to march her out of here right now. No, fuck it, I’d just force her down onto one of the tables and eat her out with everyone watching.
“If anyone says anything,” I murmur. “They’ll have me to fucking deal with. OK?”
Gulping back my suddenly dry mouth, I’m wondering if I should apologize for that outburst when she smiles and pulls herself in closer to my side.
“You Neanderthal,” she says playfully. “What are you going to do, murder the maitre d’?”
Yes.
Fucking yes, if it came to it I would. I’d do it right here and make sure everybody knew not to talk to the cops or else.
“No,” I tell her. “Not if you wouldn’t like it. Anyway, I…” How did I forget? With everything else going on, it just completely slipped my mind. “I got you this,” I tell her, digging the little box out of my pocket and placing it into her hand, so small against mine.
Why did I buy it on my way over to her shop? At the time, I didn’t know, but now it’s obvious.
“What is it?” She asks, her eyes lighting up.
“Open it and find out.”
She’s almost bouncing up and down as she pulls the lid of the box open, and there sitting inside is a silver necklace with a dozen small diamonds strung along the front, and a ruby pendant glinting in the center.
“You…you shouldn’t… This is too much,” she whispers, but her fingers are already tracing the sparkling jewels and the delicate chain.
“You deserve it. You deserve everything, Rose. If you asked me for the devil’s own pitchfork, I’d get it for you, you have to believe that.”
“I…I do believe—”
“Mr. Volos, what a pleasure to see you again,” the maitre d’ says as the family before us is led to their table by a waiter. “Table for two, I assume?”
“Private room,” I tell him, not sure I can sit there with all these eyes on her. This was a bad idea. I should have cooked for her at home.
“I’m afraid the private room is currently occupied. I—”
“Unoccupy it.” I swear under my breath. There’s a man at a table in the corner, his girlfriend just got up to go to the bathroom and he’s looking our way. If I see his eyes so much as slide over Cassandra, I won’t be responsible for my actions. “Now,” I demand.
“I’m sorry sir, I can’t just—”