Chapter 3 #2
I don’t do anything that stands out while he’s gone, just keep a low profile, stick to my training routine during the day, and work nights at the club. That until his people start acting twitchy again. Word is, he’s coming back to town soon.
I give it a couple of days. No point in sneaking around if there’s no one there. But once I’m sure he’s back, I head to his place. This time, the lights are on, and the floor-to-ceiling windows offer a clear view of part of the house—the one directly in front of the garden.
For a long while, the rooms stay empty. It’s almost 10 p.m. when I finally see him entering the living room.
He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black joggers, showing off an exquisite, athletically toned body adorned with so many tattoos that his whole chest is almost black in the low light.
I swallow the knot in my throat, training my mind to stay focused on the mission. I need to get information.
Not that anything he does during the whole night is in any way compromising or useful.
He just crashes onto the couch, flips on the TV, then makes a few calls, swirling a glass of scotch on the rocks—or whiskey—in his hand, I can’t tell from this distance.
Every now and then, he cracks his neck from side to side, like he’s struggling to shake off a tension he can’t quite get rid of.
Nothing out of the ordinary but still, something that’s making my temples sweat for an unknown reason.
After a couple of hours, he gets up from the couch and disappears down the hallway—probably into the bedroom.
I can’t see that far. I only have a clear view of the living room and part of the kitchen.
The rest of the house is blocked. The vegetation only allows me to hide in one of the corners of the garden—just enough to stay completely out of sight.
I only head home in the morning, right before the break of dawn. I kept hoping something—anything to make it worth my time—would happen, but I think Ares just went to bed while I lost another night of sleep.
I needed to go before morning came and the guards found me.
But I’ve returned every free night I’ve had for the past month.
It’s starting to feel like a compulsion watching him every night, even if I nearly froze to death last week.
I don’t even know why I keep coming back.
His routine never changes- watch TV, kitchen, maybe the occasional visitor, mostly male.
Besides, they always disappear into some other room to talk.
So yeah… this is proving to be completely pointless.
It’s just that I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop watching him.
It’s becoming like an obsession. And no matter how much I keep lying to myself, there’s something inside me that keeps battling to defeat reason every time the six-foot-something slab of muscle walks past a window, like a Calvin Klein ad.
I don’t even want to start thinking about the tightening sensation between my legs every time he stretches and the black ink on his chest shifts across his muscles like it’s alive.
Or the fact that I once caught myself giggling like a fucking idiot just because he cracked his neck from side to side, the way he does when he has a long day and needs to relax.
He acts like the world belongs to him, like the whole universe owes him something, every gesture, every move betraying that this is all his playground.
And he calls to me like a fucking magnet, something primal and irresistible that logic can’t explain.
Something that makes my hand drift across my chest, fingers clutching my breasts to stop an ache that refuses to make sense.
But then, there come the moments of lucidity, brief flashes when I try to find a reason for all of this.
Ares isn’t just my target, or the man my body keeps calling for.
He’s the only thing I cling to, so that things feel slightly normal in my life.
Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to be alone in my apartment.
I only go home when I’m too tired to function, and I know I’ll fall asleep the instant I hit the bed.
Still, following him around has to stop. It’s not leading anywhere, and if I get caught, it could screw up everything I’ve got planned. I need to reevaluate things—everything. I need to find a different way to figure out what he’s up to. A much closer approach.
Things at the club are finally starting to turn around.
I’m still avoiding him until I have a clear plan of what I’m doing, but I’ve been making progress tracking what goes in and out of the bar, which will help keep the scale in my favor.
I’m good with numbers and pay attention to details.
It’s this kind of work, and not serving drinks, that could get me into his inner circle.
He’s been out of town a lot lately, and when he’s been around, he sticks to Elysium. He only came to The Breach once in the past month, and I was off that day.
Actually, it was the day I bought my sword. Not the low-budget one I was training with. A real sword to avenge Elias.
It sounds weird now that I think about it, almost unreal. But that’s the game he’s been playing. And I’m going to beat him at it.
Almost two more months pass, and I’ve managed to befriend Silver, one of the few women who work with him.
She has access to the back room, but never talks about it, not even with me.
We actually became friends one night when she stayed late at the bar trying to get over some douchebag who only used her for sex, then dumped her right after.
I think she killed him afterward. Not that she said it directly.
Honestly? I don’t blame her. I can’t truly understand her, though.
I don’t do relationships. I can’t get close to anyone, so a guy wanting just sex is fine with me.
The only problem is, I’ve kind of given up on that lately.
I don’t like being touched. And sex… kind of involves that.
Plus, I can’t get off unless I’m the one in control. And sometimes, not even then.
I’ve been stepping up my game lately, trying to handle as many things as I can, and even dealing with some of the not-so-docile assholes who hit on the waitresses.
I personally kick them outside. But none of it seems to get me any closer to Ares’s circle.
Almost another two months pass, and I’m no closer to figuring out what the hell this game even is. There’s less than two months until Halloween, and I can’t wait another fucking year to get to the bottom of this.
Just when I start to lose it, luck kicks in, and even though Silver couldn’t help me get noticed in their exclusive club, she did get me in somehow—just not the way I wanted.
One of the older waitresses working there got pregnant, so Silver made sure I got her spot.
I’ve been around long enough to qualify, and she doesn’t suspect I’m after information.
She thinks I just want better pay and since the main rule there is to keep your mouth shut about anything you might hear or see, there is enough money to guarantee it.
Suddenly, my life gets a lot more interesting. Down here, it’s an entirely different fucking organization. And I quickly understand that none of the people working for Ares have a decent bone in their body. Not that I ever expected otherwise.
He’s not around the first week. I figure he’s got businesses in other cities as well; the way he’s constantly in and out. I just haven’t been able to follow him that far. And though I don’t want to accept it, I kind of miss watching him every night, even from a distance.
To my disappointment, Elysium doesn’t seem to be the answer to all my questions.
Most of the men go quiet when I walk over to drop off drinks.
I’ve got what’s called distributive attention, so I can ask them what they want and still catch half a dozen conversations at once.
And I do pick up a lot of things, just not anything related to what I’m really interested in.
The only thing that’s clear is that everyone reports to Ares.
There’s a whole hierarchy in place. And even though he’s got some kind of supreme power over everyone, he still has to keep them in check.
If the mafia heads ever teamed up, they’d be a real threat, so he just keeps them under his wing.
More to protect himself than them. Smart—really smart.
Another week passes until he shows up at the club again.
And there’s a wave of heat down my back the second I see him walk through the door.
I’ve never seen him so close, never breathed him in before.
Because I swear, his cologne is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever smelled.
Something expensive with something darker beneath, like he’s oozing danger through every pore.
Like the damn thing is calling out to me.
Suddenly, a cocktail of sensations is gathering to puddle somewhere inside my panties. And I feel so useless in stopping it. I’ve never felt something like this before. And I hate how it strips me of any power to withstand it.
Ares is wearing black jeans and a white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show off a few of his tattoos, the fabric clinging to him with sinful precision. The same perfect posture. Blazing arrogance. And the same attitude—like he owns the whole fucking world, not just this town.
One of his men asks me for a whiskey for Ares.
The damn bastard can’t even order his own drinks? Wow, that’s a new level of stuck up.
I don’t comment, though, just bring him the drink and set it in front of him, my legs wobbling, like I’ve forgotten how to walk.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He doesn’t even flinch as I place the drink in front of him, doesn’t even notice I’m around, like I’m invisible.
And as much as I wished for that a few months ago, now, I need to do something to get closer to him.
I even ask Silver to get me on one of the gun shipments I know they’re running into town in the next week.
I’ve heard things, I know what’s going on around here—at least partially.
And though I’m not supposed to talk about the rumors, I’m desperate.
I need to prove myself. To be honest, I thought I’d be much further along by now with my investigation.
But Silver says no. It took her three years to get here. And that’s only because her brother has already worked for Ares for a while.
I don’t have three years. At least not without completely losing my mind.
I try a different approach. And even if it’s not exactly my style, I’d do whatever it takes at this point.
So, I put on a shorter, much tighter skirt along with some fishnet tights, and start actually spending more than the usual five minutes I give myself to do my hair.
I go for big, relaxed curls, full face of makeup—the complete package.
This gets me the attention of every man at Elysium. Their eyes trail over me with hunger every time I step into the room. Every man except Ares, because he doesn’t even glance my way. He just sits there, like the entire room bends to him anyway. Like my existence doesn’t even register.
Fuck.
And this shit repeats itself for almost a week.