Adonis | H.S

chapter thirty-eight: admission

Harry ended up at his penthouse, cuddled up on the couch with Willa and a tumbler of scotch. The Blue Ribbon had not offered him the comfort that he needed. Not since he'd seen her and had his heart shredded to bits.

Willa whined, nudging his hand, which had stopped giving her loving chin scratches moments before.

"Sorry, bubs." He smiled, giving her all of his attention again.

His eyes roamed his house, seeing all of the priceless collectibles. He was once proud of all he possessed, but nothing held a candle to how she made him feel. Whole and complete and accomplished.

The overwhelming guilt and regret crept in again, and not even drink could help. He'd sat at his bar for hours, feeling nothing but loss. So he'd come home to be with his girl, who could sense his need for comfort and stuck by his side.

He told himself that this was good. She was angry with him, and that was better than her chasing him to fix things. He wanted her back. Wanted her fiery warmth and everlasting desire. He could feel it lingering in the walls, even though it had been weeks since she'd been in his home.

The skyline burned as the sun set, and he watched the display, wondering if his Venus was watching it, too. Feeling her body simmer for him just like he was for her.

The file he had on her sat on the coffee table, collected once more. He was going to destroy it.

There was a series of knocks at his door. Three timid raps that had him frowning. He got up, tapping Willa's nose when she huffed out a complaint.

He wasn't expecting any guests, and it had him on edge instantly. It was probably either Xander or Sebastian, coming to check on him or report him on the man from the bar. There was someone above all of these men after Scarlett. A serpent. No matter how many heads they sliced off, another grew back.

He walked towards the door with little care, his dress shirt unbuttoned and his slacks creased. His hair was in a bun he had lazily thrown it in earlier, his jewelry glittering on his skin.

The wound from losing her was ever present, blazing red and oozing but he trudged on, pulling open the door.

And then there was this ounce of hope, shreds of stitching threading through his being.

Scarlett.

Stood at his door, she was every bit lovely as always. A long black dress, just as dark as her raven hair fell down her back. No makeup, and her lips were red as if she'd been biting them on the ride over.

He shook his head, feeling like he was dreaming. "Hi."

"Hi." She whispered.

He stood there, feeling dumb. Was she real? Was she actually here? Hours ago she had been rough on him, and rightfully so. He thought he'd never hear from her again, let alone see her at his fucking door. God, his heart was vibrating, the shards of it wanting to weld back together.

"Is now a bad time, or—"

"N—No! No, please, come in."

He stumbled out of the way, buttoning up his shirt, only for Willa to barrel into Scarlett just as she'd walked in the door. The way that his home felt full. Like it had blood in its veins and weight in its walls.

Scarlett knelt down to meet Willa, who was beside herself with excitement, whimpering and yapping and wagging her tail. Smooching up to the girl she loved as much as her daddy.

"She's missed you," Harry informed, closing the door and locking it.

Scarlett giggled, nearly on the ground as Willa bombarded her with affection. "I missed you, too, little baby." She grabbed her face in her hands, smooching and making kissing noises.