Page 30 of Through You
I stare at the man sitting in front of me, and though that sweet smile of his is missing, his ability to listen remains.
“I recall you saying that you wanted to keep our relationship strictly professional,” I remind him, while pouring a drink.
“I want a lot of things. But we can’t always get what we want.”
His eyes fix intently on mine, never leaving, not even for a second.
I toss back my drink.
“I don’t need space. We’re not teenagers anymore.”
My reply triggers a slight grin. “We both know that it’s healthy to create space to unload.”
“And why would you want to hold space for me?” I ask. “You change your mind from one day to the next.”
“That complaint is justified,” he admits. “However, it’s evident to me that you could make use of it. The club is empty, you have all the alcohol in the world at your disposition. What else do you need? Think of me as a stranger, someone you just met who will forget tomorrow whatever you share tonight.”
As if I could do that.
Artemis can read between the lines of my silence and arches a brow inquisitively.
“Unless you need to vent about me. In that case, I completely understand if you don’t want to share.”
Bingo.
“Let it go,” I say.
Artemis brings down his arms from where they were resting.
He puts his elbows on his knees and intertwines his hands.
“Let what go?”
“This.” I gesture with my hand, pointing back and forth between us. “Stop being nice to me.”
“Why?” The intensity of his gaze is unbearable. “Are you afraid that I may bring down those walls you’ve put up to protect yourself? I made them crumble once, Claudia. And I can do it again; if I put my mind to it, I can make it happen.”
“We both know how it ended the last time you tried,” I remind him, thinking back to that night on that Fourth of July.
Artemis doesn’t appear upset.
“I’m not an insecure teenager who gives up after his first rejection anymore. I’m a man who knows what he wants, a man who won’t rest until he gets it.”
And what is that supposed to mean?
I clasp my hands in my lap.
“You are also a man with a girlfriend,” I remind him, my heart thumping so hard I can feel it in my throat.
The air between us feels heavy, and the mood is hard to read.
Is it sexual tension? I mean, the way he’s wearing that suit, he looks extremely fuckable. I shake my head. I can’t think of him that way. It’s definitely the alcohol. I stand up, determined to get out of there. I’m not myself, and I can’t be alone with him, especially not after he reminded me of those moments when he would hold space for me. I’ve only taken one step when he speaks.
“Me having a girlfriend is what’s keeping you from being mine?”
My heart is close to jumping out of my chest and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. I don’t dare look at him. What kind of question is that? I turn to face him. He remains seated and looks unbothered, like he’s enjoying all the tranquility in the world.
“I am not an object to be possessed by you. Or anyone else for that matter.”
