"You're going to let me fuck you like a good girl?" he asks and leans down, "Because you are, aren't you? A good girl?"
. . .
Elena Amoretto has always been smitten by the one and only, Ares Aetos. For three years, she's adored him from afar.
Admiri...
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I stare at Malcolm, who is standing right in front of me.
I blink a few times, but as soon as he continues to talk, it's like I'm underwater.
His voice reaches me a few seconds after he's said them, but it's like I'm not registering it anyway.
It's been two days since our show in Madison Square.
And Malcolm has just told me the news that we've been asked to perform at the Oscars.
"The Oscars?" I murmur, confused. Malcolm nods.
"Yes, it's a huge thing to be asked to perform! And Dopamine is nominated for an Oscar, as well."
"Nominated for what?"
"Best original song," Ares tells me. He's sitting beside me, arms wrapped around me.
Dopamine was nominated for their song Dead Roses, a song written for a movie that came out early this year.
Malcolm came into the suite and just told us the news.
But I can't find it in me to break out into a smile and celebrate with the others. Caleb and Nick seem just as lost as I do.
It all seems so useless. It all seems so stupid and a game of pretend.
What's the worth of winning an Oscar? Of having won Grammys?
"Thanks for telling us, Malcolm," I mutter. Imani is standing beside him, sending us encouraging smiles.
On both her and Malcolm's faces, there's worry and concern visible.
"You feeling okay, baby?" Ares asks me and brushes his lips over my cheek as soon as they leave.
I nod and sigh. "I'm really happy for you," I tell him and grin, leaning into his arms. "I'm also proud of you. Being nominated is a huge thing."
"There's something bothering you, though," he notices.
"I just don't know if I want to perform like this. I feel so shitty and fucking lost. I don't know if I'm in the right state of mind to do so."
This whole glamour world feels so useless and empty. Especially now with Violet gone.
"Hey," Ares says and makes me look at him, "if you don't want to go, don't fucking go. There's no one to tell you what to do. And if you were to go, I'd be right there with you, baby."
God, I love this man.
My lips ache to tell him exactly that.
Instead, I just lean in and deliver a soft kiss on his lips. Hoping that I can communicate with him like this and let him know.
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