Chapter Five

 

Midas (no last name given) will do his best to protect Avalon Pendragon (a minor).  He will attempt to use appropriate language when around her (emphasis his) and refrain from exposing her to unsavory elements.  He will provide a suitable bodyguard.  He will not harm Avalon Pendragon, endanger her, deliberately hurt her feelings, allow her to be injured by a failure of action on his part, interfere with her upbringing, or instigate unnecessary conversations.

When possible, he will simply ignore her.

Clause 3- Care and Protection of Avalon Pendragon (a minor)

 

“This is a really pretty house, Mommy.  Do you think it’s bigger than the palace?”

“I think it might be.”  Gwen squinted against the shine as she looked around their incredibly gaudy surroundings. “Our host likes everything… big.”

And gilded.

Truthfully, it seemed like Midas had purchased two of everything in the world and then stuffed it all in his house, regardless of whether or not it matched anything else.  The clash of patterns and mishmash of overblown styles should have been a nightmare, but Gwen was having a hard time not smiling every time she looked around her.

“How many people live here?”  Avi wanted to know.

“I think just Midas and his servants.”

Gwen helped Avalon down the huge, sweeping staircase.  It was wide enough for at least two carriages to travel up it side-by-side and she was pretty sure the bannister was made of solid gold.  Now, that really was a bit much.  She was willing to concede that a man of Midas’ size probably needed a spacious house, if he was going to fit his shoulders through doorways and avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.  Still, he simply had way too much money, if he spent it on twenty-four karat railings.  Couldn’t he think of anything better to do with his fortune?

Apparently not.

That was actually kind of sad.

“And us now.”  Avi beamed.  “We’s live here, Mommy.  This is our house.”

“Well, we’re staying here.”  Gwen temporized, not willing to promise more than that.

“I like this house.” Avalon persisted, still admiring Midas’ bedazzled home.  “I’s okay right here, until my daddy builds me a ballet studio with wallpaper that sings and my very own swing set!”

Gwen looked at the ceiling and prayed for patience.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and adjusted her daughter’s extremely frilly outfit.  Avalon had picked it out herself, so it was a cupcake-y nightmare of pink, sparkles, and more pink.  Avi, like Midas, always believed that more was better.

New clothes had been waiting for them this morning.  A lot of clothes.  And handbags and books and several computers and a mountain of fashion dolls.  Last night, she and Midas had agreed on one doll and somehow Avalon now had fifty-three.  Plus every video game, building block, art set, jump rope, stuffed animal, and miniature tea service ever manufactured.

The man had literally bought out a toy store.

He’d left her a bill for the massive haul, so it all adhered to Clause 9- “Partnership Responsibilities of Midas (no last name given).”  He’d even attached a pleasant note, saying she could pay him back at her leisure.  Gwen wasn’t fooled.  The figure typed at the bottom of the invoice was so ridiculously low that Avalon could have afforded it with the change from her six new (pre-filled) piggy banks.  Midas was cooking the books on their expenses.  He was just incredibly impractical.

…And incredibly charming.

He’d bought Avi toys.  That caused all kinds of warm and tender feelings inside of Gwen, which she was trying to ignore.  The last thing she needed was to have any sort of warm and tender feelings towards the unexpectedly marshmallow-y Kingpin of Camelot.

This was just business, after all

She needed to remain on guard.  Midas might be her husband, but their marriage was fake.  He wasn’t really on their side.  He was on his side.  When push came to shove, she and Avalon would only have each other.

“Do you remember what we talked about, Avi?”  She prompted, willing the girl to pay attention for once.  Her daughter was always drifting between reality and whatever she saw in her own head.

Avalon’s eyes rolled.  “Yeeeesssss.”  She drew out the word, tired of all the reminders to watch what she said to Midas.

For the time being, Gwen would have been far happier to keep Midas and Avi apart, but there was no way that was going to happen.  Hopefully, Midas really would ignore the little girl.

Hopefully, Avalon would let him.

“You’re not going to tell him about your daddy, right?”  Gwen continued.  “In fact, you’re going to be very, very quiet and not say anything.”  She made a production of holding her finger to her lips and lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper.  Avalon liked games.  Maybe if she made keeping quiet into a spy mission, Avi would want to play.  “We don’t want to tell him things he won’t understand.”

Avalon wasn’t falling for it.  All the experts agreed, she was exceptionally bright.  Her vocabulary and logic skills were frustratingly advanced for her age.  And there was no reasoning with her, once she decided on something.  Her little brows drew together.  “I can’t lie, Mommy.  It would be wrong.”

Gwen’s eyes closed for a beat, blaming Merlyn for this.  “Telling the truth is always the right thing, sweetie.”  She took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over Avalon’s hair.  “I’m so proud that you know that.”

Avalon nodded, pleased with herself.

“Of course, you don’t have to lie.”  Although, it would really, really help.  “But Midas is very busy, just like Arthur used to be.  He doesn’t have a lot time for either one of us, right now.  This is all new to him.  You mustn’t bother him.”

“There he is.”  Avalon whispered suddenly.  All her attention was focused on Midas as he came striding into the room.

Guinevere’s thoughts skidded to a halt, her eyes nearly as big as her daughter’s.

Shit.  He was still the most attractive man she’d ever seen.  If she didn’t know better, she’d swear it was some kind of spell messing with her mind.

“Good morning.”  He said mildly.

“Uh-huh.”  It was the best response she could muster.

Was she staring? It felt like she was staring.  A low hum of electrical current went buzzing through her whenever he was nearby. She’d never been so drawn to anyone.  And, unlike Midas, Gwen sucked at hiding her thoughts. She’d already kissed the poor man and called him handsome during their business negotiations.  God only knew what she’d come up with next.

The probability for personal humiliation loomed larger by the minute.

“You got the clothes.”  Midas scanned Guinevere up and down, taking in her simple sapphire-colored sweater and jeans.  It felt like a trail of fire followed his gaze, her body heating in response.  Being so close to him left her tingly, inside and out.

As usual, his face stayed utterly impassive, but she sensed something surprised him.  Maybe it was the fact nothing she wore twinkled or clashed.  Midas was dressed in a white pinstriped suit and a dizzyingly checkered tie, which Avalon no doubt wholeheartedly approved of.  Gwen could only imagine that the outfit was custom-made.  Surely no company would mass-produce such incredibly… distinctive clothing.

And how in the hell did he manage to look so good in it?

“How do you look so good in that?”  He asked as if reading her mind. Even his lyrical accent was a turn on, although she wasn’t sure what village it might be from.  “It has got to be the least expensive outfit I bought you.”

“It’s also the most practical outfit you bought me.”  Gwen had no idea where he thought she was going that required sixteen sequined ball gowns.  “We’re headed to war, not to a cotillion.”  She shook her head in exasperation.  “And, by the way, that bill you gave me is preposterously low.”

His shrugged, not even pretending to look guilty.  “I’m a very savvy shopper.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, reminding herself to stay strong in the face of his marshmallow-ness.  “You don’t need to buy us things, Midas.”

He hesitated and she could tell he didn’t agree.  “I only got the basic necessities.”

“You bought a four-foot tall robotic teddy bear that plays golf.”

“All children need one of those.  The shop clerk assured me it’s educational.”

Meanwhile, for the first time in her life, Avi was feeling shy.  She eased behind Gwen, gaping up at Midas.  “He’s bigger than I thought he’d be, Mommy.”  She whispered loudly.  “Like a giant.”

That assessment wasn’t far off.  “He’s just an ordinary person, sweetie.”  Gwen said anyway.  “So, you wanted to talk to me?”  She prompted, giving Midas a determined look. She could lecture him on his spending habits later.  Right now, she needed to get this meeting over with fast, before Avalon recovered her nerve and said something damning.

“Yes, I needed your input on… um…”  Midas trailed off, his gaze landing on Avalon, for the first time.  His eyes met hers and his head tilted slightly, like he was fascinated.

Avalon stared back, just as spellbound.

For an endless moment, they studied each other, like they were trying to figure out a puzzle.  Whatever they saw in each other’s faces, it apparently captivated them both.

Guinevere put her arm down to ease Avalon farther behind her.  “You needed my input on what?”  She persisted, her attention on Midas.

Midas shot her a quick frown, not missing the fact that she was shielding her daughter from him.  “I told you, I’m not going to harm the child.”  He reminded her stiffly.

“You also told me you were going to i-g-n-o-r-e her.  We agreed on it, remember?  It’s in Clause 3 of the Contract- ‘Care and Protection of Avalon Pendragon.’”

He didn’t like that reminder.  “I know what Clause 3 says.  But, I’ve yet to utter a single word to her, so I’ve upheld my…”

“Hi.”  Avalon interrupted, gathering her courage to peek out from behind Gwen.

Midas refocused on her so fast and with such amazement you’d think a table had started talking.  It was almost comical.  “Ummm…”  His gaze flicked to Gwen, like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to the greeting.

Guinevere sighed.  There was no way to avoid the introduction.  Avalon was too curious about Midas to stay away from him.  Maybe he’d do something obnoxious and disappointing soon, so Avi could move on.  “This is my daughter, Avalon Pendragon, Princess of Camelot.”  She reluctantly muttered.  “Avi, this is Midas, Mommy’s new… uh….”

“Husband.”  Midas interjected in that quietly inflexible voice of his.  The man always sounded like he was in complete control of himself and the rest of existence.  “I’m your husband, Guinevere.”

Gwen flashed him a sharp look, which he ignored.

Instead, Midas inclined his head at Avalon, like he was meeting a far older dignitary.  “How do you do, Princess?”  He said very formally, proving that he really didn’t spend much time with children.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Avalon regarded Midas nervously.  “I seen you before.”  She announced, her thumb in her mouth.

Gwen squeezed her eyes shut, braced for disaster.

Midas still looked disconcerted to be speaking with someone so small.  “You said that last night, too.  Do you mean when Percival and his men came to the party?”

“No.  Before.  Lots of times.”

“On TV?”  If she didn’t know better, Gwen would’ve sworn that Midas winced.  “You saw me on the news?”  He guessed, as if flashing back to his well-documented and colorful history with law enforcement.

Avalon’s thumb stayed in her mouth.  “Arthur said you’re Bad, just like me.”

Gwen mentally cursed her dead husband for his continuous and unrelenting stupidity.  “Avi, Arthur sometimes didn’t think before he spoke.”  Or think at all, really.  It was why she’d done her best to keep Avalon far away from him. 

“You’re not like me.”  Midas said at the same time, his eyes on Avalon.  “Anyone can see that we’re not the same kind of Bad.”

Gwen’s head tilted, struck by the vehemence of his remark.  “Good and Bad don’t mean nearly as much as people think they do.”  She told him quietly.  “I always tell Avalon that and I’ll tell you, too:  Good and Bad are just labels.  It’s our actions that determine who we are.”

He sent her another one of those unreadable looks through his lashes.

Damn it, why did he have to have such incredibly long lashes?  It was unfair.

Avalon was regaining her confidence.  She nodded, blonde curls bouncing.  “We’s exactly the same and that makes me happy, ‘cause now we can be best friends.”

Midas hesitated, like he’d never heard the words before.  “Best… friends?  Wait, who?”

“You and me.”  Her tone was now completely sure.  “We’s best friends.  I’s seen it.”

“Oh.”  Midas processed that ambiguous announcement for a beat and then seemed to give up on making sense of it.  Instead, against all odds, his mouth twitched upward.  “Well, thank you for telling me.”

“You’s welcome.”

The cruel edges of his lips softened further, warming his whole face.  “It’s excellent news, I must admit.  I never had a best friend before and I do enjoying having the best.”

Uh-oh…

Gwen braced herself against the impact of his small smile.  Midas might never be handsome, but he was something a hell of a lot more interesting and it was nothing but trouble.  To make matters worse, he was visibly delighted by Avalon.  First the toys and now this.  It was surprisingly wonderful to see someone else enchanted by her daughter.  Something melted inside of Gwen at his amused expression.  Something that hinted at all kinds of problems.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

She shook her head, trying to block out the feeling.  No.  She had to stay logical.  Avalon and Midas bonding was the last thing she needed, right now.  If Avi decided to share any of her ideas with Midas, he might kick them out and then they’d be totally screwed.

“Avi…”  She said warningly, before this madness could go any farther.  “What did we talk about?”

Avalon hesitated, trying to remember.  “Don’t bother him?”  She finally guessed.

“That’s right.  Just leave Midas be.  He’s very busy.”

Because he seemed incapable of doing anything even slightly predictable, Midas took offence at that instruction.  “I’m not that busy.”

The man was being plenty obnoxious, but not in a useful way.  “Clause 3…”

He cut her off.  “Clause 3 doesn’t explicitly say I have to i-g-n-o-r-e her when the child herself initiates the conversation.  Contractually, she can talk to me, if she wishes.”

Gwen flashed him a “shut up” look, which he refused to acknowledge.  Damn it, he was right about the wording on Clause 3, too.  That pissed her off.

“See, Mommy?  He says it’s okay to bother him.  We’s best friends, now.”

Gwen arched a brow at her daughter and that was all it took.

Avalon pouted for a second, before giving in.  “Fine.”  She glanced back at Midas and lowered her voice to a stage-whisper.  “I’m not supposed to talk to you, ‘cause you don’t have time for me and Mommy.  Just like Arthur.”

Midas’ eyes sharpened.

Gwen was sure her cheeks were flaming.  “I’m sorry.”  She’d (mostly) averted disaster for now, but it was like walking a tightrope.  Midas was too clever, while Avalon had no filter and a lot of damning information in her head.  “This is all very confusing for her.”

The polite thing would be for Midas to agree with that very obvious subject change.  Instead, he disregarded her excuse, his gaze on Avalon.  “Your father didn’t spend much time with you before he died?”

“My daddy’s not dead.”  Avalon scoffed, as if Midas was being ridiculous.

“Not dead?”  Midas almost looked concerned.  “Arthur’s alive?”

“He’s not alive.”  Gwen insisted loudly, knowing this was a catastrophic topic.

Sure enough, at the very same moment, Avalon exclaimed, “Oh, Arthur’s not my daddy.  Arthur’s just Arthur.  My daddy is my daddy.”

Shit.  Gwen dropped her forehead into her hand.

“I see.”  Midas’ eyes gleamed like gold.  “Well, I beg your pardon, then.  I must have been misinformed.”

Avalon nodded, mollified.  “It’s okay.  Lots of people gets it mixed up.”

Guinevere rubbed her temples in frustration.  “Avalon, Arthur was your father.”  She repeated those words at least ten times a day.

As usual, Avi ignored them.  She smiled up at Midas, like they were having the most pleasant chat in the world.

Midas’ expression revealed nothing.  “Well, regardless, I’m not Arthur.”  He said after a long pause.  “So I have lots of time for you and your mother.”

Avalon clapped her hands, delighted with every bit of that quiet statement.

Midas blinked under the force of her grin.

“Avi and I will be fine on our own.”  Gwen stressed, terrified of the idea of Midas spending “lots of time” with Avalon.  God only knew what information she’d let slip.  “I’m going to win this war very soon.  In the meantime, your only job is to keep her safe, Midas.”

“And I will.”

He snapped his fingers and two hulking guards stalked up from out of nowhere.  They were ogres and didn’t worry Gwen, at all.  Her attention was on the other man she’d just spotted hovering in the shadows.  Trystan.

“Shit.”  She muttered, still not liking the guy.

“Cursing is a no-no, Mommy.”  Avalon lectured.

“Sorry, baby.”  Guinevere’s attention stayed on the gryphon.

So did Avalon’s.  “Hi.”  She chirped at him, like he wasn’t the size of a glacier and armed to the teeth.  “I’m Avi.  I live here now.”  She looked him over with obvious interest.  “You got big wings.  I’s like wings.  They make you fly!”

Trystan’s head tilted, considering that information.  “You are far smarter than most of your kind.”  He decided.

“I know!  We can be friends.  He’s my best friend.”  She pointed at Midas.  “You can be my second best friend.”  She looked up at Gwen and beamed.  “They’s you best friends, too!”

“Thank you, baby.  But I don’t think we should bother Trystan, either…”

“Children do not bother me.”  Trystan interrupted.  “It’s adults I can’t stand.”

Gwen was surprisingly reassured by that flat statement.  Gryphons might have no emotions and a well-earned reputation as merciless savages, but they’d always been ferociously protective of children.  All children.  During the Looking Glass Campaigns, their people had regularly taken in orphans from both sides of the conflict. It was one of the reasons there were so few gryphons left alive.

Arthur’s father, King Uther, had targeted the gryphons’ offspring, stealing them away, knowing the gryphons would fight to the death to get them back, again.  Hell, his brutal tactics had even extended to the children of his own people, torturing them to draw the gryphons out.  Like his son, Uther had been a real dick.

“She is innocent.”  Trystan told Gwen, like he was reading her mind.  “The innocent belong to all who would care for them.  I do not blame babies for the crimes of their fathers and grandfathers.  …Or mothers.”

Gwen made a face at him.

“Trystan.”  Midas said warningly.  “Ha’na.”

The gryphon subsided with a sigh that suggested Midas was the stupidest man alive.

“What does ha’na mean?”  Gwen asked, because they kept saying it.

“Take the princess to the stables.”  Midas instructed the ogres, as if he didn’t hear her question.  “Let her pick out a horse.”

Oh for God’s sake… Next he’d be buying her a circus.  Gwen debated banging her head against the garishly painted wall.  “She doesn’t need a horse, Midas.”

“All children need a pet.”  He glanced at his new “best friend.”  “Do you like horses?”

Avalon nodded and spread her arms out.  “Especially big ones!”

Midas made a sound of agreement, apparently impressed with her perception.  “Bigger is always better.”  He concurred and glanced at the guards.  “Let her pick out a big one.”

Gwen’s eyes widened at the idea of her daughter leaving her sight.  Midas’ palace was a literal fortress, but still…  “Is that safe?”

Trystan arched a brow as if the question landed somewhere between insulting and amusing.  “Is anything in this accursed kingdom safe?”

Touché.

“There is no one Trystan can’t defeat in a fight.” Midas assured her and there was certainly no reason to doubt him.  “He’s the most dangerous man in Camelot.  I promise you, so long as he’s with your daughter, she’ll be protected.”

Trystan gave an arrogant shrug of agreement.

Gwen chewed on her lower lip and leaned closer to Midas.  “Are you sure your dangerous guard isn’t dangerous to us?”

“If Trystan wanted us dead, we’d already be dead.”

Well, that was sure heartening.

“It’s okay, Mommy.”  Avalon was already skipping towards the door.  “Trystan is my second best friend.  He isn’t mean.  I’d know if he was.”

Midas and Trystan both squinted slightly, as if trying to figure out what that meant.  With Avalon, it was a fairly common expression for people to wear.

Gwen barely noticed.  She took a deep breath and finally nodded consent.  Avalon couldn’t spend her life wrapped in cotton.  Gwen didn’t want that for her.  She wanted her to play outside and have the freedom to visit horses.  It was why she’d made this deal with Midas in the first place.  To make sure her daughter had a childhood.  The Scarecrow couldn’t harm Avalon if she was under Midas’ care.  Gwen wouldn’t have come here, if she didn’t totally believe that.

…But it was still damn hard not to hover over her twenty-four hours a day.

“Just make sure all your guards understand how ruthless the Scarecrow can be.”  She whispered at Midas, so Avalon couldn’t overhear.  “Please.”

Midas looked at the men.  “Kill anyone who gets within twenty feet of the princess.”  He said in way of an answer.  “Then track down and kill their families.”

The two ogres saluted, falling into formation around Avi as she went dashing outside into the dreary day like it was the brightest sunlight.  One of them was already carrying a tiny pink jacket and polka dot scarf for her, the (completely bogus) price tags still attached.  Ogres were always great for anticipating needs and following orders without question.  It was why they were such popular choices for bodyguards and hired muscle.

Gryphons didn’t have the same reputation for reliability.

“I am extremely mean.”  Trystan told Midas, just in case he was inclined to believe Avalon’s pronouncement.  “Ask anyone who’s ever met me.  Especially the dead ones.”

“I know.  I’ve seen you building your résumé firsthand, remember?”

Gwen kept her eyes on Trystan, still totally unmoved by his physical beauty.  He was remarkably handsome, but Arthur had been handsome, too, and look where that had gotten them.

“My daughter is everything to me.”  She informed Trystan in her most serious voice.  She knew the gryphon wouldn’t hurt Avalon, for a variety of reasons.  But it was better to cover all the bases.  If there was ever a time to be blunt, this was it.  “If anything happens to her, I will blame you.  And by ‘blame,’ I mean I will do my best to rip your wings off and burn them right in front of you.”

Midas seemed amused by the threat.

“No one will touch the child.”  Everything Trystan said sounded like a blood vow.  Old fashioned and steeped in moral certainty.  “Midas says she is now my top priority, so I’ll protect her.”  One brow arched.  “And him.”

“Protect Midas?  From me, I suppose you mean.”

“From you.”

Midas sighed and said something to Trystan in the gryphons’ language, which Gwen didn’t understand.  She had a feeling it was a warning to leave her alone, though.

Sure enough, Trystan flashed him an unreadable look.  “You take too many chances with your safety.”

Despite herself, Gwen couldn’t help but agree with that assessment.  “Actually, he has a point, Midas.  You shouldn’t be so trusting.  Heartless people like us,” she waved a hand between herself and Trystan, “could take advantage of you and you wouldn’t even know it.”

Trystan grunted, but he didn’t argue.  And he obviously enjoyed arguing about everything, so that was kind of a triumph.

Midas decided to pick up the slack for him.  “I’ll be fine on my own, too.”  His tone suggested that she was being crazy, probably because he was head of a criminal empire and he thought that made him invulnerable.  Which was absurd reasoning.  The man was apparently brilliant at his job, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t also a bit naïve.  It just meant he was lucky.  “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was nine years old.”

Gwen frowned, wondering why he’d been on his own as a little boy.  “Well, it can’t hurt to have people looking out for you, can it?  We’ll both be fine alone, but we can be better if we cooperate.  You help me and I help you.  That’s how our relationship works.  It’s all outlined in Clause 12 of the Contract- “Respect and Cooperation Between Partners.’”

Midas stared at her.  “You believe we have a relationship?”  He finally asked, as if that’s all he got out of her inspirational speech.

Trystan shook his head in emotionless exasperation.  “He will not hear your pretty words, woman.  I have warned him about his sentimentality too many times to count and behold where he stands today:  Starting a war to impress a female, who would no doubt bed him, anyway.”

“Fucking hell.” Midas muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Why did I ever save your life, Trystan?”

“No, no, no.”  Gwen blurted out at the same time.  “This is a business deal.”

Trystan ignored them both.  “Thankfully, I have taken on the responsibility of guarding Midas and the child, so they will survive.”  He shrugged as if he was the only logical man in a land turned upside-down.  “Once I begin a task, I do not fail.”

Gwen decided to focus on that comment.  “Well, this might be a difficult challenge even for you.  Avalon has a lot of enemies.  Percival and his men could come back…”

“If those puny boys from last night are the most fearsome warriors your enemies can muster, then you have nothing to worry about.”

“The King’s Men are the most elite soldiers in the realm!”

Trystan scoffed outright at that news.  “Given the state of this pathetic hellhole, I’m sure that’s true.  Everyone here is weak and small.  With a bit of training, the child could defeat them by herself.”  His eyes narrowed, as if thinking that over.  “I’ll begin training her this afternoon.” 

With that, he went striding off after the ogres.  Unstoppable and arrogant and extremely mean.

Gwen shook her head, unable to believe she’d just kind of hired a gryphon to be Avalon’s nanny.  “He’s not training my daughter to kill people.  Was he serious about that?”

“Probably.  Gryphons aren’t really known for their comedy skills.  And they train all their children to be warriors, pretty much from birth.”  Midas held up a palm before she could protest.  “Is it such a bad idea for the child to learn how to defend herself?”

“I can defend her!”

“What if you’re not there?”  Midas retorted.  “You can’t be around every minute of her life.  Gryphons are the greatest fighters who ever lived.  If their numbers had been higher, they’d rule this kingdom and every other, today.”

That was probably true.  At least ten of King Uther’s conscripts had died for every gryphon who fell.  Unfortunately for Trystan’s people, they’d been outnumbered hundreds to one, so it didn’t much matter.

“Let Trystan give the child a few self-defense lessons.”  Midas continued.  “It can only help her be safer.  I’ll speak to him before he buys her a lance or teaches her to skin her enemies.”

Gwen considered that logic and sighed, because he had a point.  “I wish I could be with her every minute.  I don’t like it when Avi’s out of my sight.”

“I will guard her for you, Gwen.”  It was a vow.

That feeling of tenderness swelled again.  He really was the kindest man.  “Thank you.” She reached out to touch the sleeve of his jacket.  “You have no idea what she means to me.”

Midas glanced down at her hand, as if surprised by the contact.  His gaze seemed to linger on Arthur’s wedding band for a long moment.  Then, he cleared his throat.  “Anyway, I wanted to discuss your plans for the day.  I need to talk to you about what sort of war strategies you’re…”

Gwen cut him off.  “I have to go out.”

Midas paused.  “Go out?”  He repeated with no particular inflection.

“Yes, but I’ll be back before dinner.”  She expected him to press her for specifics, which would be awkward, because she didn’t want to lie.  “Kind of a private matter, from… a while ago.  Can we talk about whatever you want to talk about when I return?”

Instead of demanding answers, Midas just nodded.  “Of course.”

Gwen frowned at the easy agreement.  “Really?  That’s it?”

“I read the Contract.”  Midas smiled politely.  “Clause 8- ‘Privacy and Disclosure,’ says that we don’t need to provide full disclosure about matters that happened before we met, that do not pertain to the other party, and/or that do not violate any other clauses in our agreement.  Also, Clause 9- ‘Partnership Responsibilities of Midas,’ gives you command of the offensive and charge over all strategic planning.”  He even added extra emphasis to the word.  “So, you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”

The Contract did say all of that.  Word for word, actually.  Even the “extra emphasis” part.  He must have memorized it, just from reading it through the previous night.  The man really was startlingly intelligent.  And he seemed very sanguine about her keeping secrets.  Gwen squinted, trying to figure out why.  Did he just not care?  Was he just incredibly understanding?

…Or was he up to something himself?

She didn’t believe for a moment that he was plotting against her or anything, but six years of marriage to Arthur had taught her some things. Such as, when your husband doesn’t care if you’re around, it’s usually because he’s planning to go visit his girlfriend.

Clause 7-“Separate Lives and Other Relationships” said Midas could date whoever he liked and for sure he’d memorized that part of the Contract, too.  Gwen had written the damn thing, but, now that he was actually planning to date somebody else, desperation filled her and she didn’t stop to analyze why.  Midas being with another woman was wrong.  She needed to stop him.

“You should come with me.”  She blurted out.

He paused as if that offer surprised him.  “I thought it was a private matter.”

“It is.  But I guess you could come, just so you don’t ask too many questions.  Or interfere.  Or try to stop me.  Or touch anything.”

Midas studied her for a long moment.  “Let me just get my coat.”