Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
ARES
Atlas dodges my punches, keeping his gloves in front of his face. He’s always on the defensive, afraid of taking a hit. But he’s not a terrible trainer. After he gets in a quick jab that I sidestep, I land a hook to his jaw. It’s a love tap, not a punch meant to hurt him.
“Asshole,” he swears, shaking off the hit. “Always going for the cheap shot.”
I shrug, gloves raised. “Dad taught me to seize every opportunity.”
We’re at Akropolis, which I spelled incorrectly, and Apollo will never let me forget it. But the name of my fight club stuck. I got the idea from the Acropolis of Athens and named it in honor of our mother.
Apollo helps with the finances, while Atlas handles the promotions. Within a few months of our partnering, I had a legitimate business.
Until Belen Drakos.
I bet on the wrong fight and wagered money I didn’t have. So now I’ve got Alexander breathing down my neck. If I don’t throw my next fight, I’ll have to sell my club to pay him.
My dad would be proud of how far I’ve come. If only the old man were still here to see it. From an early age, I wanted to become a boxer. Dad noticed I wasn’t like my brothers. I kept getting into fights and came home with bruises. So, our father tailored his parenting approach to fit our needs.
While Apollo had his head in a book and Atlas was creating art, I wanted to hit something—or, more accurately, someone. So, Dad cultivated a safe space for us to nurture what we were good at.
He built a boxing gym in the basement of our home and taught me how to fight. Apollo got a library and a private school education. And Atlas had a drawing room with comfy couches and drafting tables. We had a sweet life before Belen Drakos destroyed it.
After we’re done sparring, Atlas spits his mouth guard onto the floor. Slobber drips from the corner of his mouth and onto his bare chest. “You’re not fighting at your full potential, Ares. Is Ophelia fucking with your head?”
“Hell no,” I fire back, working to strip off my right glove. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”
My brother shakes his head, and dark waves fall in front of his honey-brown eyes we share. “Ophelia is on your mind. I can tell.”
“So what if she is?” I peel back the tape around my hand, leaning against the ropes. “I’m planning on tapping that ass before the wedding. And every day after that. I know you want to fuck her. Don’t even try to bullshit me, little bro.”
He rips off his gloves and tosses them out of the ring. “Apollo will want us to fuck Ophelia. He looks at her like he’s thinking about watching us with her.”
Our brother has a dirty little secret, one I doubt he wants Ophelia to discover. We’re the only people who know why Apollo can’t get off with a woman.
I wave off his concern. “Apollo won’t do anything that jeopardizes our getting closer to why Belen killed Dad. And it’s not like he would let Ophelia touch him. He’d puke if she put her hand on his arm.”
It has nothing to do with Ophelia. This problem started a long time ago with no signs of improvement.
We begged Apollo to get help from a therapist after that night, even suggested his coming home from Yale to attend a local college.
He insisted on finishing his degree because it was what our father wanted.
But if our dad had known what had happened, he would never have let Apollo stay on campus. Not with that psychopath, who I would gladly kill for my brother if he would tell me a name.
“We can’t mix pleasure with revenge, Ares.” Atlas ducks under the ropes and hops down from the ring. “We both know you’ll get sick of her after you fuck her once. And Apollo will probably scare her away.”
Apollo chooses most of the women we fuck. It’s part of this sick game we play. Our brother has particular desires, and we never tell him no because of his affliction.
I follow Atlas out of the ring and laugh in his face. “You’ve got some nerve when you’ve got a crush on her.” My eyes flick to his sketchbook on the table beside my water bottle. “Have you been jerking off to the pornographic images you’re drawing of Ophelia?”
He doesn’t answer.
That’s a yes.
“I won’t get sick of Ophelia. So stop lecturing me. You sound like Apollo.”
“We’re stuck with the Drakos.” He twists off the top of the water bottle and takes a swig. “If either of you screws this up for us, I’m walking away. I mean it this time.”
He would never leave us. Atlas has threatened to abandon us to get his way dozens of times. Unlike me, he’s less on board with Apollo’s games. I don’t have an issue with letting Apollo choose the girls or telling us how he wants us to fuck them.
Atlas used to be okay with it. But something has changed since Mom got engaged, and we moved in with the Drakos. Maybe it’s his not-so-secret obsession with Ophelia.
Does he want her for himself?
“You should push the fight back until after the wedding,” Atlas says on our way into the locker room. “Mom will lose her shit if you fuck up your face before we take the wedding pictures.”
“It’s not like she cares about Belen,” I throw back at him as I push open the door. “She’s only marrying the piece of shit to help us avenge Dad.”
She also needs the money. Once Belen is gone, our mother will inherit everything—including the shares in his businesses Ophelia desperately wants.
She has one month to change her attitude if she wants to own a quarter of Olympus. But if Apollo does his job correctly, we won’t have to deal with Belen much longer. Apollo is the mastermind of this operation and schemed with our mother.
Atlas grabs a towel from the rack. “We need to get closer to Ophelia. It’s the only way she’ll believe the truth when this is over.”
Ophelia is part of our mother’s deal with Cora Drakos. The letter is real. Despite what Ophelia believes, our mother didn’t force her mom to write it.
I bob my head to agree. “What do you think I’m doing? Neither of you is getting anywhere with her.”
He shakes his head. “Not true. I gave Ophelia one of my drawings. You should have seen her face. I thought she was going to cry.”
“Sounds like we got a good thing going,” I comment as we make our way to the showers. “Work your magic with your art, and I’ll convince her with my tongue and cock that she needs us.”
Our mother marrying Belen is only the beginning. Apollo spent months analyzing every detail, planning our revenge to the second. But that was before Ophelia. She’s sexy and gets under my skin, and I don’t want her to get hurt.
Neither do my brothers.
“I’ll do my part,” I tell him as I turn on the shower. “You do yours. Mom and Apollo will take care of the rest.”