Chapter 19
nineteen
-Serena-
I barely manage to cover myself before I hear him coming in. And strangely enough, he seems even more relaxed than before, like getting me worked up was the plan all along.
Ugh, I could kill him for being so arrogant, even though I'm starting to become convinced it’s not just arrogance. He's just plain insane.
He changes into a pair of shorts, but I don't even turn to look at him. I just saw him grab them from the dressing room from the corner of my eye. So I assume that’s what he was doing.
Then I feel him getting into bed next to me.
And the closeness sends a rush of heat spiraling down my body. I hate that I want him so badly.
But he can’t just leave things this way.
Everything has to be complicated in the world of Set, so he comes to wrap his arms around me.
"You’ll learn how painful it is to be without me," he groans in my ear as I feel one of his hands gliding down on me, and landing straight between my thighs.
"This is so you don't get any ideas while I sleep. You’ve been struggling with self-control lately," I can hear the amusement in his voice as he gives me a teasing squeeze, just enough to stir the hunger back up.
Even though I hate it, he’s right, it was painful being without him. And even more painful lying next to him, but without him.
Who the hell can figure me out anymore? I sure can’t. I hate him, but I think I love the idea of hating him more than actually doing it. Because deep down, I know those kinds of feelings I have when he’s around me couldn't be born out of hate.
And his words turn the rest of the night into pure torture. I can’t get my eyes to close due to some twisted moral compass that keeps me convinced I should never succumb to him.
The inception of doubt begins spreading in my mind to the thought that what Set wants, Set gets. At least it’s easier than dealing with the fact that it might be something I also want. Not on his terms, but I kind of need the same outcome.
I know he had trouble sleeping too. He kept fussing behind me, moving his hand from time to time over his new possession—like he was checking up on me, or more likely keeping me warmed up.
Morning comes, following the same routine as in the past few days, he insists on joining me in the shower and washing me.
Of course, he does it thoroughly—doesn’t miss a single spot and makes sure he lingers on all the essential ones.
I, for one, think I can get used to this kind of routine, but the worst part is that it’s not becoming just a routine.
It’s pure arousal, like a wild game where I’ll end up the loser.
After the usual morning torture, he picks up a peach pencil skirt, a matching jacket, and a white shirt for me—that he makes sure it’s properly smoothed over my every curve.
I’m getting tired of this. Well, not exactly tired, and definitely not bored. His hands running over the fabric still sends a thrill through me, never leaving any doubt about how much I like it.
Today was an office day. Set buried himself in paperwork while I worked through reports, my eyes drifting now over the full-size painting of the god Set—the deity my mobster is unhinged enough to compare himself to.
His eyes remind me of the time when I was face-to-face with him, pinned over the painting by Set's own body.
I wish I was a normal person. Why couldn't I just be a normal person and hate the man who’s indirectly keeping me prisoner?
I think it's because of being constantly edged that my mind is warping reality, and makes me romanticize him. I don't know why, but even the way he cracks his neck from side to side to diffuse, like he’s shaking off tension, feels deliberate—meant to allure me. And that’s not even counting the two undone buttons on his white shirt, just enough to let a tease of black ink slip out from his collar.
I realize it's just me, imagining everything he does is meant to seduce me, until I catch a flicker of concern breaking through all that intense focus on the paperwork that fills his desk.
I know he doesn't tell me what's really going on or the severity of things when it comes to Chen.
He planned an entire heist just to avoid a war, and now, he'll start one because of me.He's been like this the whole day, like he's trying to come up with a plan. And knowing Set, it’s going to be one that will lead him to victory.
He doesn't leave loose ends, and as sure as hell, he doesn't leave enemies alive.
He's going to go after Chen, it's all about finding the most opportune timing.
However, I don't ask him about it. I don't want to put more pressure on him right now.
I know that he's the one who got me into this, but I also know he's the one who’ll get me out of it.
One thing I'm certain of is he's not like Nick. He isn't expecting me to solve any problem that might come up. He’s man enough to handle them himself. To be honest, I’ve never had that kind of confidence in anyone else to protect me. It feels damn good too, not having to rely only on myself to survive. And I’m never going to say this to another person, but it feels good to be taken care of.
We had a business lunch during the day, and then some more work, especially since he hired a new hotel manager a few months ago, and he needed to personally train him on taking over some of his tasks.
That’ll give him more free time. No, let me correct that, that’ll give us more free time because I seem to be glued to his hip lately.
We finish so late, it’s already dinner time when we leave the office. There’s no point going upstairs to order dinner when we can go to one of his restaurants in the building.
Set lets me pick, and I go with Japanese. Nothing too weird on my dining list, but I can't resist the mochis, and I know they’ve got an entire menu page dedicated to them.
"Is everything okay?" I ask as soon as we sit down at the table, trying to get some information about what was going on with Chen.
"I didn't realize you cared enough about me to ask," he answers in a stingy tone.
"Set...," I let out a silent warning so he knows he's treading close to a dangerous line. Especially since I didn't realize either that I care enough to ask.
"Hmmm. Worried I haven't paid enough attention to you today?" his lips curl into a wicked smile. "Does your pussy miss me?" he continues in a huskier voice. "You see, if you were a good, obedient girl, I’d have you up on this table already and soothed her with my tongue."
"That's not a wise thing to do around knives," I chuckle, arching an eyebrow, to remind him what happened last time he tried that.
But instead of getting pissed off, he takes my hand, studies the long scar running across my palm, then kisses it.
"Don't threaten me with a good time unless you’re ready to follow through," he licks the length of my scar, letting his lips rest on it for a few moments before keeping it there as a prisoner.
Okay, that was the hottest thing anyone’s ever done. I should get used to Set competing with himself when it comes to incredibly steamy things. But I never seem to be able to manage it. The man surprises me every single day. And in the next moment, I realize tonight won't be any different.
We’ve barely taken our seats at the table when the waiter comes with our menus—but that’s not all she brings. She’s wearing the largest smile I’ve ever seen. And as I get a better look at her, I realize it's aimed directly at Set.
A weird feeling engulfs me. I don't know for sure if it's jealousy or just shock that an actual living, breathing person is smiling at him. He's undeniably handsome and seductive, there’s no denying that. But there’s also a lethal coldness to him that makes him unapproachable which usually keeps normal people from making that kind of gesture.
It piques my curiosity, especially since the girl seems way too young to be involved with a man like him. But the heat wave that floods my body stalls just in time as I hear her say a genuine thank you.
Smiling and thanking him. She must be confusing him for someone else, because no one in their normal mind would ever thank Set.
But then she goes on, her crystal-clear childish voice full of gratitude, "Thank you for helping me out. I consider you my guardian angel, Mr. Malvagio."
I cough, choking on the irony. He's much closer to the devil than any angel I’ve ever heard of. And still, the gratitude in the kid's eyes says otherwise.
"What did you help her out with?" I ask, even though I can see Set nodding, just so she’d leave already. From the look in his eyes, he's not gonna give me an answer, so I turn to the girl instead.
"I’m sorry, I should go," the girl says, trying to excuse herself.
"Not before answering my question, you don’t," I press, fueled by some madness that makes me ignore Set’s grimace.
"What did he help you out with?" I’m not usually this pushy and I certainly don’t make it a habit to interfere in other people’s business, but since my business is Set’s business, I consider it goes the other way around too.
The waitress glances at him for permission to go on, but the sharp look in my eyes shows her that I'm overriding even his authority, so that gets her talking.
"I was working at a strip club. I needed the money to support my family, and no other job in Vegas pays that well.
Except here. Mr. Malvagio offered me this job a couple days ago so I could leave that shithole. Excuse my French."
I have to admit, I was prepared for anything at this point.
As I see it, the odds of him fucking her were way higher than the ones of him being a decent person.
I can't even process most of what she's saying, but I can process a specific part of the conversation.
"You were at a strip club?" I ask, still confused about him being some kind of savior, while on the other hand, disturbed by how he apparently spends his free time.
The girl said a couple of days ago. That makes it recent.
I'm not expecting him to be a good man, but for some reason, knowing he goes to strip clubs kind of hurts.
"I met with one of my informants there. You know when I was trying to keep your ass out of trouble." Set says, doing his best not to make this sound like he's making excuses. More like he's putting the blame on me.
So he was saving the girl and me, all on the same day.
The struggle that goes on in my mind for the rest of the evening, still trying to see him as the bad guy, is catastrophic, because there's a part of him that’s sneaking into my heart with every new thing I learn about him.
He’s certainly evil, but what if him, being the monster, keeps other worse monsters away?
The girl spoils us like royalty to the point where she's constantly adjusting our forks so they’re perfectly straight on the table and refilling our glasses every five seconds.
Still, Set doesn't even seem to notice. He's checked out, and even though he still flirts with me now and then, I know his mind’s somewhere else.
It troubles me seeing him like that. And to make things worse, it even troubles me that it troubles me. I'm a very complex, seriously fucked up individual. I've learned that much ever since I met Set.
That still doesn’t mean I can keep my damn mouth shut.
I don't want him carrying whatever burden’s weighing on his shoulders alone, especially since I'm convinced I helped put it there.
"Are you going to war with Chen?" I ask, already knowing this was exactly what he was trying to avoid when he planned the heist in the first place.
His dark eyes lock on mine, like he's about to say something he's never been more certain of in his life.
"I'm not planning a war. I'm planning total annihilation.
Chen crossed a dangerous line when he put a hit on something that's mine. And I’d give my last breath before I ever let him hurt you.
" Taking one of my hands from the table, he brings it to his lips, slowly, kissing my knuckles first, then the inside of my wrist, making my fingers gently scrape across his face.
And I can't keep them still, despite my best attempts. They slowly drift against his stubble, and his eyes close as he takes deep breaths, as if he’d like me to do that for hours and hours.
And the worst part is... I’d like that too.
But we’re still in the middle of the restaurant, so instead, I just draw my body close to his until I feel his hand slipping from mine and securing around my back.
The spot he touches suddenly ignites, like pure electricity flows from his fingertips.
My body relaxes and tenses all at once. My thighs come together, trying to suppress a need that’s spiraling out of control.
And my lips murmur words I know I’ll regret at one point, but I just don't care. "Let's go home."