Bea considered half a dozen responses. “I don’t like the idea of being owned.”
Selene poured them water. “Not even by my son?” she teased.
Maybeespeciallynot by her son. Rafael didn’t step back once he’d stepped in.
“Marriage here asks a lot of a woman,” Bea said.
“It does.” Selene leaned back, folding her hands. “I wonder though…in Canada, what are the penalties for a man who cheats on his wife?”
Bea frowned at the change of topic. “Uh, people think he’s a douche?”
“And one who abandons his family?”
“Custody battles, I assume. Maybe financial penalties.”
“In the UR,” Selene said softly, “these failures could be prosecutable. Jail time, not just divorce.”
“So thereisdivorce here?”
Spanakopita appeared before them, flaky and fragrant. Selene cut into her pastry without rush. “Of course. People here are still people. They can change, hardships can come.”
Greek salad arrived next. Selene thanked the waiter, then continued. “But divorce is designed to punish the one who failed their obligations, and because of the way obligations are structured, that’s usually the husband.”
“Rafael didn’t explain it like that.”
“No,” Selene said. “He wouldn’t speak of costs to himself.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s been trained to carry any burden that belongs to him without complaint.”
Bea speared an olive and rolled it through the oil, watching it glisten. “Has Theios ever overstepped? Used his authority in a way that made you furious?”
Selene laughed, crow’s-feet crinkling in real amusement. “Of course, kopela mou. He is a man. Possession comes as naturally to him as breathing.” She smiled faintly. “Leon and I almost didn’t survive our first year. The law gave him authority—but it didn’t give him wisdom. That part, I had to beat into him.”
“How?”
Selene shrugged. “Sometimes with words. Sometimes with silence.” Her eyes warmed. “And sometimes by reminding him exactly who he married.”
Bea huffed out a chuckle. And then she frowned. Looked the older woman in the eye. “I love him. But I’m…scared, Theia.”
“You’re probably right to be. Men like Leon,” Selene said, then, after a beat, “like my son, do not respond to hesitation by retreating.”
RAFAEL
Griffin Ventures’ security hadn’t switched to day shift yet.
Rafael stripped off his shirt and set it on the bench. The wraps went on next, fabric stretching across his knuckles, tighter than necessary.
The bag swung the second his fist connected.
He found his rhythm fast, foot placement precise, rotation clean. The bag took every strike, always swinging back for more.He drove into it harder. The burn set in early and he pushed through it, no pacing, no recovery window.
He should never have gone to Thailand. She’d asked for space, and experience had taught him that forcing her hand only made her develop impressive escape maneuvers.
But space hadn’t helped. She was further away now. At least she’d brought candy home. He’d been hoping to takeherback to his place and have something sweet of his own. That plan had been shot to hell.
He shifted to weights and loaded the bar. Lift. Reset. Lift.
