Cassandra
Apollo moans in his sleep behind me, and I smile as I take hold of his hand and wrap his arm closer around my shoulders. I’m wearing a massive t-shirt as a nightdress, and it smells of him, an intoxicating mix of his natural kind of dark wood scent and a spicy cologne. My whole body aches, despite how gently he took care of me afterwards, bathing me like I was his little girl, making me feel loved and protected and safe in his world.
I know what I am, and I know what he is. But it’s like he said, nobody is simply a sum of the things they do and have done. We are all different deep down, and tonight he showed me the real Apollo Volos, bared before me.
Trust.
That’s what he showed me. I can trust him. But can he trust me?
I hear a little buzz from beside me, and realize Apollo must have had my bag brought up here. I almost ignore it, but when it buzzes again I’m worried it might wake him, so I disentangle myself from his embrace and reach out, fumbling in the dark for the familiar shape. I find it, unclasp the flap and then reach inside for my phone.
A.D. Jackson: Call me. It’s urgent.
A.D. Jackson: I know you went home with Volos. We need to talk.
Shit.
Jackson. My boss at the Bureau. I glance back at Apollo, but he’s sleeping soundly and isn’t going to wake any time soon.
But if Jackson starts to call, rather than text, it could ruin everything. Sure, it will almost certainly blow my cover, but more than that I can’t stand the thought of Apollo’s disappointment. Hurt and betrayal. I can’t do that to him. I won’t. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with my life from this day on, but I know that whatever happens, I’ll want him in it.
I slide out of the bed, my feet sinking in the thick pile carpet of Apollo’s bedroom, then pad gently to the door and slip out into the hall.
It’s then that I remember the keys.
By the front door of the house, there was a bowl, and Apollo dropped his house keys inside when we entered last night. I know where his office is from the surveillance data I was given before I took this job, and I know that it’s kept locked whenever he isn’t using it. Are the keys to the office in that bowl?
I won’t say I’m not curious, even for my own sake. Exactly what evidence is there that could sink this whole organization?
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath. I won’t do it. I refuse.
I sit at the top of the stairs, dial the number and raise the phone to my ear.
“Agent Divine, can you talk?”
I keep my voice low. “I haven’t found anything. The mission has failed.”
“Not a fucking chance, Cassandra. You’re in his home. There’s something there.”
“I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t, I—”
“Do I need to remind you of what’s at stake here? You’ve got a shining career ahead of you, it would be a shame for it to be hampered by one little mistake. I mean, how were you to know your partner was drugging and murdering young men in the alleys behind nightclubs? But some people would see that as—”
“Fuck you, Jackson,” I bark, louder than I intended. I glance around, but all’s quiet. A standing clock on the landing is ticking gently, its face reading nearly 2am. “Fuck you,” I say again in a whisper. “I know what people say about me and I don’t care. I’m not doing this. Apollo is—”
“Apollo? You’re on first name terms now?”
I feel my face heat. “You told me to get close to him. To seduce him. That’s what I did.”
My stomach flips at the words. It feels like a betrayal. Apollo isn’t here to hear what I’m saying, but if he was…
This was more than just a part of the job. I know that in my bones. My job was to seduce him, sure, but not to take it as far as I did and certainly not to…do the things we did.
I’m in love with him.
Fuck.
“He’s a good man,” I say defensively, not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or Jackson.