Page 89 of A Touch of Chaos

She glared at him, her chest rising and falling with her anger.

He scowled. “Help me with this fucking tie!”

She lifted her chin, and for a moment, he thought she would refuse, but then she rose to approach him.

“Who were you thinking about when you were fucking my face?” she asked.

Theseus did not like her question. It felt too familiar, like she was a lover demanding answers.

“Jealous, Helen?”

“She’s under your skin,” she said.

His muscles went rigid. She was suggesting he had a weakness. “For all you know, it was my wife,” he said.

“The wife you left alone while she gave birth to your son?” she asked. “I don’t think so.”

He let his hands rest on her hips, fingers pressing hard into her skin.

“Know your place, Helen,” he said.

“If you ever do that to me again, I will bite your dick off,” she said. “I do not care about the consequences. Are we understood?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. He said nothing, and she continued as if they had never gone off topic.

“The reporters are waiting outside the hospital. When you exit the front, you will pause at the top step with Phaedra, announce your son, smile and wave, and then guide her to the waiting SUV.”

She slipped the knot of his tie up, snug against his neck, causing him to cough. He knocked her hands away and turned toward the mirror, adjusting the tie so that it wouldn’t choke him to death before he made it to Phaedra’s room.

“I know how to charm the press,” he said.

It was Phaedra they needed to worry about. This would be their first appearance together since the incident in the hall, though he suspected she would do anything to please him, clinging to the hope that if she did, he might still love her.

He did not really care what she had to tell herself, so long as she played her part. A part that was even more critical now that Ariadne had made her choice to side with Hades and Persephone.

He watched Helen cross to the bedside table to pick up her tablet and purse.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked.

“I have to work,” she said, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

He turned to face her. “You work for me.”

She ground her teeth, a spark of anger in her eyes.

He chuckled. She didn’t like that, which made it even more satisfying.

“You are the one who told me to have a counterattack ready for Persephone,” she said. “And I have a lead.”

“Anything you want to share?”

“I prefer it to be a surprise,” she said.

He tilted his head to the side, studying her. He waited for her to drop her gaze or fidget with her stuff—to show some kind of discomfort—but she remained poised beneath his scrutiny.

He approached, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. She stiffened as his hand came to rest against her neck.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Helen?”

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