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He opens his eyes, struggling to focus. “Yeah?”
“I think you’d better tell me where we’re going.”
“Mociar,” he says, and swallows hard. “I don’t have a choice, Artemis.”
“You do,” I argue in what I hope is a soothing tone. “You do have a choice. We don’t have to go.”
“I do. Because I have to host a meeting. There are assets. And maybe…” He trails off, then startles. “I’ve done this before. Sometimes the negotiations go wrong.”
“That’s okay.”
“Not this time. I have to go. Do you understand?”
“If you’re worried—” I don’t know what to say. We’re on a plane. If this episode doesn’t end soon, I don’t know what will happen. “You don’t have to keep this a secret from me. You can tell me what happened.”
“Can’t.”
“Apollo.”
“Can’t.”
“Okay.” He shivers, his teeth chattering. “You should go home.”
“I’m not going home without you. I’m going to go to this meeting, whatever it is, and then we can both go home.”
He doesn’t say anything else.
A few minutes later, the fever begins to subside. It’s not nearly fast enough. It takes almost half an hour for Apollo to open his eyes.
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, Artemis, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I promise.
“Was it bad for you?”
“I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
I don’t want to tell him that I didn’t feel anything at all. He was the only one.
14
APOLLO
I would be hard-pressed to imagine a less attractive scenario than fucking a perfect woman into the mattress on a private plane, then immediately having an out-of-control episode and throwing up on a towel—thrice—before her eyes. The only way this could be worse is if the plane crashes while I’m still naked. If that happens, I’ll know there was supernatural interference, and whoever is in charge of the universe hates me so much that they wanted me to die without the slightest shred of dignity intact.
The plane continues to fly.
I lie on the bed for another fifteen minutes to be sure I won’t embarrass myself, then gingerly sit up.
“Okay,” says Artemis. “Can we turn the plane around now?”
“No. We’re too far away from land to do that.”
“Can we pick a different place to land, then? This can’t be worth risking your life over.”
“I’m risking my life either way,” I point out.
Graciously, Artemis does not point out that I’m also risking her life. Both our lives are at risk. I’m beginning to think that they were in serious jeopardy from the moment I walked into her parents’ house at eleven years old. I’m not sure what made me think that the past could never catch up to me. As if one miracle in the form of a kind, rich man would wipe everything clean.
