Page 49 of Unleash Hades
“Rom…” What did they think?
“I should go get him.” Romulus pulled out of my grasp, walked out the door, leaving me speechless. He had said “Weknow what Father’s like.” The ‘we’ he was referring to meant Remus too. Did they suspect me of an affair? Did their father?
Hugo…
Footsteps approached, and that damned apricot ascot came flouncing down the hall, with patent brown shoes, and a blazer covered in maroon silk threads patterned like falcons in the dive. Bellamy’s clothes always announced him like a beacon. No one else would dare wear something so… extravagant. Especially not at ten in the morning.
I suspected that was the point. He needed to be the center of attention.
“Sorry, dear boy,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “I grew tired of waiting, so I hope you don’t think me horribly rude.”
“No! Not at all!” My son said too quickly.
“Thank you.” Bellamy gave him the slightest bow. “Would it be a huge imposition if I got a minute alone with your mother?”
He lifted a brow and smiled at my son, who jumped eagerly.
“No, of course not, Mr. Bellamy,” he said, a little too eager to please. “I was just leaving. Please tell me if you need anything. Just shout, and I’ll come straight away.”
My son had a crush. I didn’t like it.
“Oh, we’ll be fine,” Bellamy said. “And if you permit me to call you Rom, then you may call me Lu.”
I had never heard Lu as a nickname. Everyone always called him Bellamy or Lucien.
“Of course, Lu.” My son blushed. “Not many people can tell me and Remus apart.”
He was delighted. I could see it in the slight flutter of his fingers. He was moving on from a crush, to being completely enamored.
“You’re the nice one,” Bellamy said, patting my boy on the head.
If my son blushed any harder, he’d turn into a tomato.
He turned and left, and I suspected he would haveskippedaway, if we weren’t watching.
“Delightful boy,” said Bellamy. “Your son’s an angel walking among us.”
Bellamy pushed into my office without invitation, closing the door behind him. He took a seat. Without a word, he pulled a silver flask from his jacket, and twisted the lid and it separated into two shot glasses.
He poured amber liquid into each, then took one dainty little thing in his hand, lifting it in a toast, and swallowing it down, before slamming it on my desk. Then he refilled it again.
“Drink,” he commanded, flicking his finger to point at the untouched shot.
His voice was low, and sounded… different. Relaxed. Possibly drunk.
“It’s a little early,” I said, lifting my brow, walking around him to take the seat behind my desk.
Bellamy wasn’t a lush. He was indulgent, and in love with a decadent lifestyle… but prone to drinking too much? No. At least I didn’t think so.
“You wouldn’t drink with me last night. Drink with me now.”
“No, thank you.”
He shrugged, put the flask to his lips and tipped it bottom’s up, swallowing loudly as his neck bobbed above the ascot. When he brought the flask down, a small droplet trailed down his lip, traveling down his jaw, until it tipped to the ground from the cleft on his chin.
“Don’t write about the Underground Circuit.” He put the flask down on the desk.
I scoffed, “Really? You think you have editorial power to tell me to kill a story?”
