Page 60 of Gilded Gods

We look at each other.

He’s an empath like me and can sense my emotions. “What’s wrong, Apollo?”

“Nothing,” I lie and grab the book from the floor, shoving it into his chest before entering my bedroom.

Atlas follows.

“Don’t fucking bullshit me. I know you better than you know yourself. I saw you leaving Ophelia’s bathroom. I heard her in there with Ares.” My twin steps closer, his brows furrowed. “So, I’ll ask you again, Apollo. What the fuck happened in there? And you better not lie to me.”

I can’t tell if he’s concerned or jealous. Maybe a little of both, considering he’s been drawing Ophelia nonstop. I wonder if he’s been jerking off to the pictures of her.

We look like brothers with the same black hair, olive skin, brown eyes, and our father’s Roman nose. But you would never know we’re twins.

He’s a few inches shorter than me, around six feet tall, muscular but lean. I enjoy wearing suits. Atlas prefers jeans, graphic tees, and sneakers. My jaw is sharper, my face is more masculine, and my twin has a baby face. Our mother still pinches his cheeks because he looks so young.

I’m an extrovert, and he’s extremely introverted. Atlas would probably never leave the house if we didn’t have a bar and fight club to run. We’re so different, and yet we understand each other.

“It’s okay, Apollo.” Atlas puts his hand on my shoulder. “We’re cool with it. I’m sure Ophelia will be, too.” He shrugs. “If you want me to fuck her, I will.”

The way he says it sounds like pity. Like he hasn’t wanted to fuck Ophelia since he started sketching her. He only draws people who fascinate him. And until Ophelia, he’s never sketched the same person more than once.

“Don’t do that.” I shove his hand off my shoulder to enter the bathroom. “I hate when you do that.” Running my hands under the sink, I scrub away the reminder of what I have done. “Ophelia isn’t like the other girls.”

Atlas leans against the door, sketchbook tucked under his left arm, a drawing pencil behind his ear. “Because of her dad?”

I shake my head. “No, because Ares likes her.”

“So do I,” he admits. “And it’s obvious you do, too. It won’t be any different from before.” He pushes off from the door, giving me a thoughtful look. “You don’t have to touch her. Let Ares and me satisfy her.”

They’re good at that. My brothers don’t have the same issues as me. We have big dicks that leave women begging for more. But it’s easier to get off by myself while watching them.

“I want to touch her,” I say, and it sounds weird coming from me. “Seeing her on top of Ares in the tub…” I look away from Atlas and rake my fingers through my hair. “I want her to fuck me like that.”

I haven’t been inside a woman in years. Not since I got drunk my sophomore year at Yale and had some crazy sorority girl shackle me to her bed. She did fucked up things to me and wouldn’t let me go until the following day. Thankfully, the drug-laced beer she kept feeding me helped me forget some of it.

After that night, I wasn’t the same. I didn’t want women to put their hands on me. I have only watched people having sex since then. And when I say people, I mean my brothers.

No one else understands.

“This is a big deal,” Atlas comments. “You haven’t wanted to fuck a girl sincethatnight.”

“Yeah.” I breeze past him to sit at the desk and flip open the laptop. “Can we please not talk about it?”

When the computer is fully booted, I type my password and open the most recent spreadsheet when the computer boots up. It’s my job to maintain the books at every club, an easy task for someone with my schooling and background.

This is all part of our plan to take down Belen Drakos. Unfortunately, Ophelia is in the middle of our feud with her father. We’re taking him down along with her dirtbag uncle.

Atlas sits on the windowsill beside my desk, tapping his tattooed fingers on the leather book he rests on his lap. “You should fuck her,” he suggests. “Maybe it will help you get over—”

I hold out my hand. “Don’t finish that thought.”

“It’s been four years, Apollo.”

“I’m sure a woman forced into a similar situation as me wouldn’t put a timeline on when she wanted to have sex again.” Keeping my eyes on the screen, I scan the numbers in the columns, finding comfort in my work. “Now, if you don’t mind, Atlas, I have to finish this report within the hour.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Atlas gets up from the windowsill and sighs. “I know what you went through was really fucked up.” He attempts to touch my arm, and I recoil. “I’m not trying to downplay what happened. I hope Ophelia is the one who helps you heal.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “She could be the one. Too bad she’s going to hate all of us for what we’re doing to her family.”

---