Chapter 5
Five
E lias
Two days after I saw Avra at dinner, I strode out of the house, ready to handle a situation with one of our men. It was the last thing I wanted to deal with, considering the shitty night’s rest I had gotten.
For two days, I’d struggled to stop thinking about Avra. I wasn’t obsessed, far from it. A pair of nice tits and a fine ass were nothing to get crazy about. I had my pick of gorgeous women.
Then why couldn’t I get Avra Vitalis out of my mind?
She’d even crept into my dreams last night. How the fuck had I allowed that to happen?
She was beautiful. That was an undeniable truth—Avra was stunning, especially when angry. More than once, I envisioned how she’d looked the night we first met. So collected and calm, her chin tipped up as my father tried to dismiss her.
Then there was how her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders as she verbally sparred with me outside. She wanted to make it clear she wasn’t weak. I understood that from the moment I laid eyes on her. However, my focus returned over and over to her plump lips, firm and begging to be kissed.
On paper, she was an ideal one to call my wife, well pedigreed and beautiful. Only a fool would reject the offer of marriage to her. But that was what she wanted everyone to see.
That was more than the truth when she said I didn’t know her. Soon, I’d know everything about her and her secrets. I planned to learn what she hid under that facade of the strong, cold, unbendable woman.
I’d glimpsed a moment of her fire as she held her own on the patio. I couldn’t wait to spar with her. She waved a red flag to a feral bull, and I wanted to coax out all the passion or anger she locked up inside her.
Maybe I was a sadistic bastard. Then again, my only distractions came in the form of work. This would be a pleasant change to the mundanity of my life.
I gritted my teeth, thinking of what I needed to do today for that aspect of my world. An hour earlier, I’d received information that one of our people had hit a woman on the street, with numerous witnesses. I had my men grab and hold him for me to deal with. This dumbass represented the Xenos name. His behavior reflected on us. To keep a territory, those who lived in it needed to respect us and believe we protected them. We protected the weak, not abused them.
Of course, the fucker worked for Ozias. His people were the ones causing the problems. How many lessons would I need to teach before they learned what I would and wouldn’t tolerate?
Particularly with this grievance. I was a hard man. I killed and beat plenty. But striking a woman would sign a fucker’s death warrant.
Even Ozias knew better than to smack any woman around. And he’d learned that lesson the hard way when I caught him raising his fist at my mother. I was only fourteen then, but I nearly matched his size, rivaling him in strength. The second I saw him strike my mother, I punched him directly in the nose. Our guards had rushed forward but stayed uncertain of what to do, considering the situation.
If my mother hadn’t pleaded for me to stop, I would have punched him over and over until I broke more of his bones. He must have seen something in my eyes that day. Maybe it was the lethal killer I would become, but from that day, he and all those who worked for the Xenos family knew my stance on this wrongdoing. As far as I was concerned, only useless and insecure men hit those who were physically weaker than they were.
“Where is he?” I asked a soldier outside the holding area of the Xenos compound .
“In the cell on the end. He ran as soon as he heard we were looking for him.”
Walking into the cell, I paused and then shook my head. “Marcos, what the hell have you done?”
This made absolutely no sense. Marcos was a loyal member of the family’s operation. His entire family worked for the Xenos enterprise.
“Explain,” I ordered the soldiers, keeping him there. “He has five daughters. This is the last thing he would do.”
“Several witnesses corroborated that it was him,” one replied.
“There’s more to this incident. What are you leaving out?”
“If I may add, sir,” the other soldier said, “his behavior hasn’t been very normal lately.”
I stared at Marcos as he hung his head, not even looking at me. “How so?”
The soldier continued. “After his wife died in the territory hit last year, he lost control. His behavior has been erratic, and our supervisor thinks he’s been struggling with grief. Lashing out and slipping up.”
I sighed, looking back at the defeated man who couldn’t find the courage to face me.
I understood grieving the loss of a loved one, but losing control? Over a woman?
Then again, the one man I respected, Pappous Nikko, once told me real men treasured and protected their wives. Without them, a family cannot continue .
I approached Marcos, hurling him up to look directly into his eyes. “Tell me what happened.”
He hung his head. “I shouldn’t have hit Anna.”
I punched him just for the sheer fact that he’d abused someone weaker than him. His blood splattered onto my shirt, making me shake my head. I had to stop wearing new clothes when I came here.
“Let’s not state the obvious. What led up to the incident?”
“The neighbors caught her giving my girls alcohol. All are under thirteen. I confronted her, and she laughed at me, saying I let my wife die, and this is what happens when other people have to raise my girls for me.”
I felt rage for him.
I knew the background of how he’d lost his wife. He was working for Ozias outside of town when the hit occurred. It was during school pickup. She’d lost her life in the crossfire between our men and a rival family.
I pushed Marcos onto a nearby chair.
“Bring Anna in. We need to have a chat with her.”
Marcos’s head snapped up. “Don’t punish her. She’s a young girl, too. Only nineteen. I was wrong for slapping her. She lost her mother too, and is lashing out.”
What the ever-loving fuck?
“That isn’t an excuse for her behavior. I will have a chat with her and make it clear to get her act in order, that is all.”
Marcos nodded, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “She’s right, I didn’t protect her. ”
“You are not responsible for this. If anything, Ozias and I are. You were out on orders from us.”
He nodded, not saying anything more.
Was this what happened when a man lost his wife? I had never seen Ozias this way when my mother died, but then again, he never cared for her a single ounce.
How would I react if I were to lose Avra?—
What the hell? We weren’t even married yet, and here I was, projecting and thinking of what could happen if she died before me.
We lived a vicious, violent life. We protected our spouses and children by staying ahead of rivals, but there were occasions when we lost loved ones and suffered. Would Avra grieve me? Or would she scheme and plot to replace me with another?
For fuck’s sake. Thinking of what-ifs like a lovesick puppy was ridiculous. I hadn’t even married Avra yet.
But I couldn’t escape the thoughts. Was it the permanence of it all?
Marriage.
Avra would be my wife , not just another woman to warm my bed.
Christ. In a matter of weeks, I planned to tie the rest of my life to another.
If I were to marry Avra and lose her too soon?—
I’d be fucked in the head too. Husbands and wives were to grow old together, not die in their youth.
I studied Marcos. There wasn’t any way I could kill the sad fuck for this mistake .
Giving leeway wasn’t an option either. One lousy mistake could bring down the entire empire.
I wasn’t a saint or anything close. He’d get a good beating for this. He’d shamed the Xenos name in public. I would instill a hard-earned lesson by the end of his discipline. He lived today because I wasn’t a complete spawn from hell.
My men would make sure he cleaned up his act. If he didn’t, he knew what would happen.
“The only reason I’m sparing your life this time is because your wife just died. Because you have innocent daughters waiting for you at home. But”—I leaned over him, gripped his bloody chin, and raised his face until he met my gaze—“you are never to put your hands on a woman again. I don’t care what they say or do. Shoot them before you touch them. Is that clear?”
He nodded, trembling with the effort to remain standing.
I released him, confident he understood there were no second chances.
“You shamed the Xenos name, and that requires restitution. Decide who administers your punishment. Leonos or me?”
My head lieutenant and I used different methods for discipline. It would hurt either way.
A beating was a small penance for Marcos, considering who I was. Our world worked based on power and reputation. I wielded a considerable amount, and allowing Marcos to live wasn’t something I did.
“You,” Marcos said, his voice sure and eyes direct .
Thirty minutes later, I walked down the halls of the facility to my car, tired and wondering if I was too hard on Marcos. Logically, I knew I hadn’t been. I’d lose control of the territory by giving him too much mercy.
But then I thought again about how I might react if I were in Marcos’s place. I definitely wouldn’t give anyone like Anna a second chance. Her death would come fast and clean, and I’d make it clear never to mess with my children or the memory of my wife.
Fuck. What was wrong with me? All this wife and child shit was ridiculous.
I needed a shower and a stiff drink.
Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I stalked to my car and opened the door. I barely sat inside when a series of texts appeared on my phone.
“What now?” I muttered to myself.
I unlocked the screen to read the messages.
Ozias: Get to the estate. We have a crisis.
Ozias: Stop ignoring me. When I send a message, I expect an immediate response.
Ozias: It is life and death.
Of course, it was. Everything from a broken chair to an actual stabbing was life and death.
Eli: On my way.
It was better to keep it simple than to engage in a back-and-forth with no functional outcome.
I looked down at myself. Blood splatters covered my shirt, my knuckles stung from the activities with Marcos, and sweat drenched my body .
Exhausted, annoyed, and aggravated were too mild of words for how I felt. However, none of it mattered. I’d play the dutiful son for now, then it would all crumble at Ozias’s feet.
When I arrived at the estate my father had stolen for his own, I thought of Avra, wondering how she had felt when she saw the house after fifteen years. I knew how I’d feel.
Pissed as fucking hell. The renovations alone would have enraged me.
I opposed it, preferring the traditional structure and its centuries-old history. However, Ozias wanted to erase as much of Juno Vitalis as possible, so he’d added his own touch to things.
If only a call hadn’t delayed me, I would have loved to have seen her initial meeting with Ozias. I could imagine the fire in Avra’s eyes and the hate burning there when she locked gazes with him. Luckily, I’d arrived on time to see everything afterward.
Her calm and collected manner made it seem as if she was unapproachable and remote. But she was far from it. I couldn’t wait to put cracks in that barrier around her.
Fuck. I ground my teeth as I strode through the house. I had to stop thinking about her. We barely knew each other.
Why the hell were my thoughts constantly going to her?
When I reached my father’s office, I found him pacing and muttering. He shook his head right before he gripped the back of his neck tightly. The redness on his face and puffy eyes made it appear like he’d cried .
That was impossible. No matter how mad or upset he became, I’d never seen him cry.
The man was a selfish, arrogant bastard, and seeing him so unhappy and upset was disconcerting.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed, and utter devastation etched all over his face.
“Cloe is dead. Murdered. Shot in her own home.” His news came in a rush of stilted and broken statements, like he couldn’t bear to elaborate on the awful details.
He walked over to his couch and dropped unceremoniously onto it as if he were a broken man.
Well, this was a series of firsts.
Ozias avoided showing weakness at all costs. He would rather die than admit a flaw or vulnerability.
But Cloe, it seemed, could do it.
For most of my life, I knew her as the preferred mistress. He showered her with gifts and chose her as his companion for extended travel, even over my mother, while she was alive.
Affairs were the norm in our world. Mistresses were an expectation, not an oddity or scandal.
From my teen years, I knew about Ozias’s relationship with Cloe. I despised her for the pain she caused my mother. Still, I knew expressing my opinion to Ozias wouldn’t have made any difference. In fact, it would have caused problems for my mother, so I kept my mouth shut.
Now, seeing him so ragged and torn about the news of Cloe’s death, I realized he’d actually cared for her. In the twenty years they’d slept together on and off, my father had never acknowledged her in public.
At first, I thought it was because they both had been married for part of that time, and he respected the need to keep quiet. However, following my mother’s and her husband’s deaths, my father never labeled her as his girlfriend. Perhaps he was too cautious that such a designation could lend her power over him.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I didn’t care. It felt good to see him suffer for a change. But the obligation to inquire was there.
“No. No, I’m not fucking okay ,” Ozias yelled as he resumed his pacing. “I swear I will find whoever was responsible. Until the day I die, I will look. I vow to bring her killer to justice.”
I stood there, silent and shocked by the vehemence behind his words. It wasn’t so much his vow to avenge as to do it for a lover and not for something associated with the family.
In my entire life, I’d never seen Ozias this emotional or distraught. He barely gave a shit when Mama had learned about her cancer. He had never shed a single goddamn tear when she died.
Nothing.
The fucker loved Cloe. He’d cared about something or someone other than himself for once in his life.
Go figure.
His heart wasn’t black and dead.
Knowing I couldn’t do anything for this situation, I left him to stew and brood. Giving him any condolence attempt would be a waste with the feral state he’d waded into.
As I headed toward my suite to wash up, though, I saw the parallels and differences between the two dead women I’d learned about today.
Marcos’s reaction of violence stemmed from disrespect to his wife’s memory and hurt toward his young children. His fury came from guilt and loss.
Ozias had lost his lover, and her murder incited him to lash out with vows of revenge. There was no guilt for not protecting her, but there was a need to blame and exact vengeance.
However, it revealed he cared for someone other than himself.
Which way would I react?
I shook my head and pushed open the door to my suite.
I had to marry Avra first, then answer the torrent of questions running through my mind.
Damn woman haunted me, and we’d barely spent any time together.
I needed to focus on why she wanted to marry me in the first place. No one offered themselves up on a platter to the son of their enemy without a reason.
She was in for a rude awakening if she believed I played by anyone else’s rules instead of my own, she would be in for a rude awakening.