Chapter 28
A date. The notion haunts my mind, sounding even more scary than when he said he'd fuck me. Maybe it’s because I was expecting him to sleep with me, I just wasn't expecting him to take things this seriously.
That only adds more questions to whatever it is that I'm feeling.
I need to get ready, but I'm definitely not spending four hours in the mirror today like I did a couple of days ago when I met him for dinner. I just put on a little makeup, lift my hair up in a ponytail, and grab a pair of shorts and a hoodie. I know it's not too first-date appropriate , but that was the main goal of the evening—not dressing up. Plus, it's like I have some kind of stupid inner glow that I want to hide, not necessarily from Set, but from myself.
Even if it’s against my initial intentions, it takes me forever to get ready. It's not that I'm putting in too much effort. It's just one of those lazy days. And it doesn't take long from when I finish getting dressed to when I hear the door of his room open.
This is it…
I wait for Set on the edge of my bed, watching TV, and trying to appear relaxed as if this is no big deal. But I'm not really watching it. I'm nervous, and angry at myself for being so... I don't like that I'm waiting for him, and I especially don't like spending my time eagerly waiting for him to come into my room, text me, or whatever way he finds fit to announce that he’s ready to take me out.
I think more than half an hour passes by before Set finally makes an appearance. He comes in without knocking, of course, and that instantly gets on my nerves. But the second I look up to meet his eyes, everything stops. Everything except my heart, which seems to be louder than ever. His fancy clothes are gone, and he's wearing a pair of black ripped jeans and a simple white T-shirt that doesn't seem simple at all. It looks like an intricate work of art, showing off every shape of his sculpted muscles. And if that wasn't making him hot enough; the black ink carved on his skin, peeking from the collar of his shirt and stretching down to his arms, makes me literally drool.
For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything, just looks at me as if I’m supposed to follow some dress code that I know nothing about. “Take that off, you're not wearing it.” He points at my hoodie.
My eyes instantly roll to the back of my head. “Maybe I'm not the Miss Perfect you thought I was,” I murmur, but not loud enough for him to hear it. I take off my hoodie, and I'm left with a tank top. Seems like I’m not living up to his dress code.
By the time I throw the hoodie on the bed, he's no longer in the room, and I have no idea what to do next. Did he just cancel our date on me , or am I supposed to go and find something else to wear? Not that I'm in the mood for a date any longer. Before I get to decide, Set returns, holding a black piece of clothing in one of his hands. “Put that on.” He orders, more than instructs, throwing the piece of material on the bed. I guess that's just him being him.
My initial reaction is to argue with him, but I don’t want to start something I don’t have the energy to finish. I just pick up the piece of clothing, and realize it must be one of his hoodies. I didn't even imagine him owning a hoodie, let alone wearing it, but just thinking of him dressed in it makes me wet.
I do as he says, and pull it over my head, then go to look at myself in the mirror.
Fuck.
Seeing myself dressed in his clothes does something to me—a kind of damage from which I can’t ever recover. The hoodie is at least four sizes larger than what I would wear, but it comes off as one of those oversized models, going over my shorts, and almost above my knees.
“Now you are as perfect as I thought,” he whispers from right behind me.
Damn, he heard me earlier. Not that I really care right now. My mind just turned into a complete mush. Do you know the sensation when you first put on your boyfriend's clothes? The one everyone is talking about—being surrounded by his cologne, feeling like you belong to him? I never truly knew it until now, and it's so addictive that it takes my breath away.Sure, I wore some of Nick's clothes in the past, and I remember hoping to get this exact feeling when I tried them on, but it just wasn't there, at least not how it is now, like Set is imprinting himself on me.
I try to cover the surprise in my eyes and play it off casually. But I’m not delusional enough to actually think it’s working.
“Come on,” Set says, taking my hand. “I promised I would take you out, not take you to bed, and if I keep looking at you dressed in my clothes, that's exactly where we’ll end up.”
Okay, that doesn't sound like a bad idea right now.
But Set seems determined to follow through on his original plan and leads me out of the apartment and into the parking lot. He chooses a Lambo Urus as our ride this time—so much for keeping a low profile. But as I take a look around me, I don't think he owns any normal cars. We only drive for a mile or so before he parks right in front of a nightclub, where the line of people waiting to get in is crazy, even though it's not even 8 p.m. yet.
“You're taking me to a club?” I ask, a little confused since my dress code certainly doesn't fit in any club.
“I own this club. I'm just parking my car here so we won't spin around in circles for ages trying to find a parking spot,” he says while he stops the engine, then gets out, and comes to open my door.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, since he just said the club wasn't our destination.
“I don't know, we'll just walk around and see; just tell me if you want us to stop anywhere.” Taking my hand, he walks with me on the lighted boulevard—The Strip.
I’ve only been to Vegas once, a couple of months ago with Nick. We didn't do much visiting since he stopped in the first casino, and all our money was gone there, so we had to return to Elko pretty quickly. But I always wanted to visit. Even though I sometimes like the peace and quiet, I need the chaos and madness to feel alive. I think I forgot about that part of me because I used to love clubbing and parties. I was just so numb after my brother's death that I couldn't really enjoy life anymore.
We walk past a miniature Eiffel Tower and several other themed casinos. Set isn't much of a talker. He's always analyzing things and overthinking, just like I do. The difference is that where I see shiny lights, I think he sees business opportunities, and that keeps him from really enjoying life.
Since he seems to be doing this city tour for me, I venture into a souvenir shop. Okay, maybe in five souvenir shops, to Set's irritation, but he doesn't say anything even though I can see on his face that he's not too fond of these places.
“Do you like this?” I put on a black cap with the Welcome to Las Vegas sign on it. I don't really like it, but I feel I need to get him more invested in my shopping session since he seems to be losing his patience.
“Yeah, I like that,” he says, looking at me from head to toe, “if you were to wear only that.”
“Putting that back on the shelf,” I murmur, place the cap back where I got it, then walk further into the store to look at some water cups.
Set walks close behind me, and I notice a few people in the store bowing their heads like he's fucking royalty. They probably recognize him from the hotel because they didn't seem like tourists. Well, that's about it for keeping a low profile, and having a normal night .
“Do you like the sparkly thingy ?” he asks, looking at the water cup I hold in my hands.
It has double walls, and you can see some shiny glitter from one side floating around in one of those bubbly liquids. A little bit too much glitter for my usual taste, but this is Vegas after all; I'm allowed to let go for a night.
Set stretches out his hand, so I give him the cup. He doesn't even ask me if I want it or not, just goes and pays for it, then takes the gift bag and waits for me to look around before we get out of the store.
That was pretty much boyfriend behavior, I must admit. I even fucking liked it, but what I didn't like was the way those people bowed their heads in front of him. Because I don't know if they were doing it out of respect or out of fear. So that plays with my mood a little.
We don't stop to eat in any particular place; we just pick up different street food along the way. But there's so much variety that by the time we walk past five more hotels or so, I'm so full that I can barely walk. I blame the extra-large pizza slices, the spicy Chinese-style chicken wings I shared with Set, the giant French fried Cornetto, the strange Indian skewers, and the pecan nut waffle.
Set even asked me what I wanted from every fast food place and shop we stopped at. That's the first time he's ever asked me about something without ordering me around. I know it's a big step for him, but I don't want to consider it a big step for myself. I don't want to tame him, break him, or make him more docile. I shouldn't want him, period. And even though I really needed a night like this, I think, for my mental sanity, I’d prefer that he throw me into a cage and act like the monster he is rather than take me out on a date. It would be so much easier for me to hate him.
I continue to walk by his side, my hand tucked into his, his clothes touching my skin, and I’m unable to shake the feeling that everyone is watching us. On the outside, we are perfect together. I can see it in every mirror and every window that we pass by. But on the inside, he wants me to be as messed up as he is. And I can't accept that. I won't allow myself to become that person, even though he's trying to turn me into it with every passing day.
I feel my emotions getting the best of me again, but Set seems to have his way of sensing when it gets too much for me and washes all the drama out of my head by stopping in front of a gelato shop. I'm going to throw up if I eat one more thing, but gelato is like water—I probably won't even feel the cantaloupe one… or the strawberries and cream.
That's how I tricked myself into eating a three-cup gelato right before we ended up at the Bellagio fountains. I hope we’re getting a cab back to his car. There's no way I'm passing by all those food carts again without risking food poisoning. It's bad enough that Set already carries a shopping bag full of candies from my little stop at Candyland.
“Do you want me to clear the area?” He casually asks while he takes a seat on the marble tiles of the Bellagio fountains. As if he could magically make the crowd of people around us disappear.
Maybe he can, but I don't want him to. This was so typical of him that it almost made me laugh. “No, we're fine.” I fuss from one leg to the other, not really knowing where to take a seat. I think he wants me to be in his lap, but he's not asking me to, and I won't do it out of my own will. Even if I think I want to.
This is so messed up. I'm so messed up.
I hop on the fountain's rim, next to him, and I catch the hint of a smile hanging on the corner of his thick lips. He can feel my struggle, and he's not going to make things easier for me, the way he did last night.
Shaking my head, I try to chase that thought away, even if I'm now awkwardly sitting next to him like I'm a teenager. Things are starting to get too obvious.
“You don't really want to sit there, do you?” he asks, calling me out on my bluff again.
“No, it's fine, I'm very comfortable.” Worst liar ever.
I see him raise one of his legs on the edge of the fountain so that now my body is between his thighs, and I’m leaning on his chest, using him as my personal recliner. “Is this better?” his voice deep as he brushes his small stubble against the back of my neck.
“ I—” I want to say something, but he cuts me off.
“Don't lie, Ya’amar,” he chants again, his hands going around my waist.
Damn. “Yeah,” I say so quietly that I'm sure he barely hears it.
But he did hear it.
“And is this better?” His lips melt on the side of my neck, and I'm feeling like I'm going to melt as well, straight into the pool.
He just warned me about lying, but how can I tell the truth? My mental sanity prevents me from answering him, so I just let out a small moan.
“Good,” his tongue trails a long line on my neck, uncaring about everyone around us. I think if he does it again I might come.
But he doesn't.
“Fresh flowers for the lady?” A child's voice interrupts us. A kid, no older than ten, is standing in front of us, carrying an arm full of red roses.
I feel Set looking at me from over my shoulder. It's like he doesn't know what to say or do—and that’s a first for him.
“It's okay, I don't.” I try to diffuse the awkwardness, but he cuts me off again.
“Leave them next to the shopping bags.” Set points to the souvenir shopping bags sitting next to us while I feel him picking his pockets.
The kid gets closer and leaves a rose right on the tiles where Set told him.
“No, all of them.” Set orders, clearly unsatisfied that the child didn't get the message, then extends his hand with some hundred dollar bills.
The kid's eyes light up instantly. This time he does get the message, and he leaves the arm full of roses next to the one he laid earlier on the fountain rim, then beams an overzealous thank you and gets lost.
There’s a weird silence between us, as I was probably expecting something from him—anything that might explain why he just bought me a gazillion roses.I guess it's his weird way of trying to act nice, and even though I was never a fan of roses because they wilt too quickly, I can't deny I'm impressed by his gesture.
Since there is an awkward silence lingering in the air again, I feel I need to say something, and why not start with the question that's been nagging at me for a while now? “Can I ask you something?”
“You did say you wanted a date, so I guess that's what people do on dates—ask each other questions,” he chuckles, and I can swear that's the most delicious sound I've ever heard. Be still, my mentally broken heart.
“I didn't want a date...,” I pause briefly, hoping I made that clear—this was his idea even if I might have indirectly agreed with it. “I just wanted to ask you what Ya'amar means; you never told me, but you keep calling me that.”
“I was expecting you to ask at some point.” He smiles, taking a short pause. “Look up.”My eyes rise to the sky as he continues. “It means my moon .”
Such a short sentence that manages to deplete my lungs of oxygen. I was expecting it to be some sort of random pet name, but this has a much deeper meaning. Without realizing it, my hand wraps around the pendant worn around my neck—the moon that he gave me. I instantly remember how weird he was acting on the day he gave me the necklace. “ You should have nice things to wear, ”he said, no big presentation, just like with the roses. If I come to think about it, he’s almost clumsy when it comes to these things—the key word being almost because Set and clumsy don't go together in the same sentence. If he had a definition, it’s definitely skilled .
I’m at a loss for words, but something gets me to nestle against his chest. This was the most romantic gesture I’ve ever received in my life, and I just don't know what to do with it.
“At least you handle things as well as I do, or maybe even worse.” I hear him softly laugh from behind me, calling me out on my lack of response to my emotions. Deep down I’m an introvert; just because I don't show it doesn't mean it’s not true. And I'm starting to think the same goes for him. I could feel his pain on that night when he talked about himself. There's something from his past that is eating him alive, but he's not letting me in on what's really happening, and I feel like I don't even know who he really is.
“I'm not sure how I'm supposed to handle everything, Set,” I suddenly tense in his arms, overwhelmed by everything that has been happening and, at the same time, by everything that I'm feeling. “All I know about you is that you kill people. That pretty much ends the story for me.” I say, lowering my voice.
I want to get up, but he doesn’t let me; his grip too strong on my body.
“Sit,” he orders, his voice much rougher this time around. “I'm not a good guy, okay? I never pretended to be. I can't stop killing people if they interfere with the balance, no matter what that means to you. You have to understand that everything around us could be gone in a second. And I can't allow that to happen. Because that would mean you would be gone as well, and if the world doesn’t end there, I’ll make it end myself.”
I want to get away from his arms because I feel like his embrace burns through me. He still doesn’t let me go though, and I won't try to push things, or make a scene because I feel him getting heated on the subject, and it’s not in a good way. But I won't condone his killing spree either, that he justifies just to keep his fortune, and his position as an underworld leader.
“I'm trying my best to be patient with you,” he hisses in a much lower voice, and I can feel that he's being honest. He's not a patient man, yet he's doing his best not to snap at me.
Still, I'm not going to embrace him just for not killing me whenever I open my mouth to speak my mind.
“I want you to have a clear head for the heist,” he continues. “I don't want to make things even more difficult for you than they already are right now. I'm even considering not going through with the break-in. I don't like knowing you’re in danger.”
“No, please,” I interrupt him. “I need this as much as you need the artifact. I need to feel like I’m something more than a pretty decoration on your arm.”
“What gives you that idea?” he snaps, annoyed by my words. “You're not a fucking decoration. You're so much more.” He pauses like he's letting those words sink into my mind. “I’ll stick to the initial plan, and let you go through with it if that helps you feel less objectified. But once that’s done, I want to explain things to you. I want you to see how this world really works, and what I have to do to keep it running.”
Every time I think I'm making progress with her, I only end up two steps back. I know she'll accept me someday. She'll understand why I'm doing all of this. Even if she doesn’t, I'm not sure I can give her up.It's like she's the only one who can calm the monster inside. And no matter if we're fighting or fucking, she's the only one who could bring me closer to humanity and morality, reach for me, and get me out of the darkness I sometimes plunge into. I know I am the darkness itself. But it’s not for me that I want to stop myself. It's for her; I'm uncontrollable when I go there, and I couldn't bear the thought of hurting her even against my will—not again.
I signal one of the maintenance guys who works here at the fountains. I've seen him around my hotel, so he knows who I am well enough. I make a single gesture to let him know I need some privacy. I'm not sure where this night will lead, but I don't feel comfortable with so many people around.
It takes him less than a minute to return with some protective fences and a few maintenance signs to isolate the part where we are.
“What's going on?” Serena asks, preparing to get up and leave with the crowd of people.
“They're starting to work on the maintenance; it says so on the sign,” I answer casually without any intention of getting up.
“We should go then,” she nudges me.
But my arms aren't open to let her go. “No, we shouldn't.”
Even though I can’t see her face, I know she's frowning. “Did you have anything to do with this?” she asks.
“You were starting to get into delicate subjects. I can't share information about my life with half of fucking Vegas,” I snarl because I can barely bring myself to share this information with her.
I know I have to be patient with her. I can tell she’s still lost, and last night in the shower was the first time I felt that maybe I wouldn't be able to make this work. It’s not because she doesn't want us . It's because she's too afraid to accept her own feelings. That's why I made a deal with myself to give her time, even though she sometimes pushes me to a point where I find it impossible to do so. But I am willing to be patient, despite the fact that it’s slowly killing me inside. The truth is, I would do anything for her, as long as it doesn’t come to giving her up.
I've tried to back down a bit. I've been doing that all day, even if it felt like torture, especially when my first thought in the morning was to be buried deep inside her. And that damn desire followed me through the rest of the day.
“I thought this was supposed to be a normal night.” I hear her mumble, and I know she's probably pouting by now.
“You can’t expect everything to be normal and easy. Life isn't easy, Serena, not for people like us. Not if you really want to enjoy what it truly offers you.” I sneak one of my hands beneath her shirt, slowly advancing to her waist.
“Set, what are you doing?” Her voice is shaking, but coated with desire.
My fingers reach her stomach, and I can't hold back anymore from touching her. “No one can see me. The hoodie is large enough to cover it.” I keep my hand there to brush against her soft skin. “I don't want normality, Ya'amar. I crave chaos, but we can't really exist in it. If I let things go there, it would be a short road to self-destruction. Still, I like to play with fire. What use is there in being a devil if not to torment innocent souls?” I kiss the corner of her mouth, and I'm expecting her to turn and greet me with her lips. I snarl when I see that she doesn't reciprocate. But I don't go on. I don't want to ask anymore. I want her to give me what's mine.
“So you picked mine?” She mutters, gluing her head back to my chest.
“It wasn't something I'd been looking for.” I go on, “Or maybe I was, and I didn't have a single clue about it. It just happened when I saw you on that night at the gas station. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was no way back. I even tried to fight it myself, but I was aware from the start that it had no real use. You think we're so different, but I know we’re so alike. And even if you doubt it right now, just remember that the moon and the sun might be completely apart, but there will always be eclipses.”
I feel her turn a little to the side. Her body is still resting on my chest, but she wants to look at me. “You are right on one thing,” she murmurs. “It's not easy. It's so damn complicated that sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind.”
“So lose it. Nothing needs to make sense. You just have to let yourself feel. Do you think everything in my life makes sense? I don't belong to any nation or god. But I do belong to you. The same way you belong to me, even if you're too stubborn or too scared to accept it. I know you feel it too. This isn't something you can hide away from.” I know she's fighting everything that we mean. We’re treading a very thin line—if I push her, I lose her; but that's exactly what could happen if I back down.
Her legs curl together as she's snuggling against my chest, and while I want to be her refuge—and I will always be that—I also want her to be strong. Just… maybe not tonight. She needs time, but she also needs a wake-up call. My hand moves up her shirt, finding her breast through the fabric of her top, and my thumb begins running over her nipple.Instantaneously, her own hand overlaps mine from over the hoodie, squeezing my palm. I'm not the one confused here; she is, and I'm just going to prove it to her. “Did you grab my hand because you wanted me to stop, or because you wanted to feel me closer?”
She doesn't answer, but I know she understands what I’m implying. She might be confused, but her body isn't. And that's exactly why her grip slackens. Her hand just remains there to cover any traces of motion while mine continues to play with her hardened tips.
I'm not gonna fuck her. Not tonight. I want her to feel the pain of being so close to something, but still unable to reach it. She might have me in a chokehold, but she’ll be in my chokehold as well.
We remain at the fountains for almost an hour, my hands still playing on her breasts until I feel her fall asleep in my arms.I text one of my men to bring a car around, and as soon as he gets here, I order him to take the roses and bags and put them in the trunk while I pick up Serena in my arms, and carry her to the backseat.
I feel her trying to open her eyes, but I don't let her say a word, “Sleep, Ya'amar. I'll take care of you.”
I do exactly what I promised, carrying her back to my bed where I take off her hoodie, nestle her with some sheets, then take my place on the bed right beside her.
She's so fucking beautiful, I sometimes forget to even breathe. My lips reach to touch hers; the thought of her not being mine one day slashing through my soul like sharp blades. I won't allow that to happen, no matter what it takes. “No one was ever you. And no one will ever be. Even if I live a thousand lives.”