Chapter Six
As they drove back to Ariadne’s apartment, Zervou considered the dinner quite the success.
Not only had he gotten some background into Ariadne and her father’s mark on her life—something that assured him his plan would work—but he’d also noticed some curious gazes from the people in the restaurant.
No doubt whispers would start regarding him and his new dinner companion.
Everything was going according to plan. He only needed one more thing tonight. When they arrived at her apartment building, he pushed open his door.
“You are not coming up,” Ariadne said. He would almost call it something like panic in her tone. An interesting concept. This woman who could defend herself in just about every physical way possible was…panicked at the idea of him going up to her apartment?
Yes, there were still depths to mine when it came to Ariadne Malis.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you fancy yourself in charge?”
She frowned at him. “It is best if my mother doesn’t interact with you until I can ensure she understands what’s happening.”
Zervou got to his feet and closed his door, moving around the back of the vehicle so he could open hers. She had not waited for him, but she had not managed to get out of the seat yet.
“I do not need to engage with your mother,” Zervou said, holding out his hand for her to take. “The whispers will have started. I can hardly drop you off at the curb, Ariadne. At the very least, you must allow me to behave a gentleman and walk you to your door.”
“I do not think anyone in this neighborhood moves in the same circles as you for you to worry about anyone seeing such a thing,” she replied, though she gingerly placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her out of the car.
“You would be surprised, Ariadne, just how much interest you garner and how even whispers that start here could reach people who want to be reached by them.” He walked with her up the stairs to her apartment door. “Even now, someone could be watching.”
She snorted inelegantly. “Yes, someone who wishes to relieve you of your wallet and phone.”
Zervou did not bother to argue with her. She was not used to moving through the world with eyes on her at the level he was. Someone would be watching. Someone would mention it to someone and so on.
By tomorrow morning, the interest in Ariadne Malis, excellent boxer, would be piqued.
He would no doubt have people calling him, suddenly wanting to invite him to even more dinners, events.
All so they could maybe ask a question or catch a glimpse that might allow them to be the first to know why Zervou Kritikos would be seen in the same orbit as a female boxer from the absolute wrong neighborhood.
Besides, he had no doubt Erjon’s minions would be the type to skulk about this neighborhood. But he did not want to point that out to Ariadne if she did not already know it.
They reached her door, and she quickly retrieved her keys from her purse, extricated herself from his hold and moved to unlock the door.
“Ariadne.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and he watched as she very purposefully rolled them into relaxing. She turned to face him, chin lifted.
Fists clenched. Always ready to fight. He did not know why he found that so enticing. He would have thought he’d had enough fighting in his life. Her, too.
But here he was, fascinated, intrigued, wanting to know just how far it would take to snap that careful control of hers. Because she was always ready to fight, but she also held it in check.
So he stepped forward, because he would have to find a way under her natural propensities if they were to succeed in their mission. “Whether you like it or not, you have agreed to something. And that means behaving.”
Temper sparked in her eyes, but she did not snap back. “And how should I behave?”
He moved in even closer, even as she pressed her back against her apartment door. He lowered his mouth to be close to her ear, so he could whisper the rest in case someone was watching.
And because he liked watching the way her breathing went unsteady.
“As though you are romantically interested, naturally. Now, I am going to kiss you goodnight, and I must warn you, you cannot get any…ideas.”
“Ideas?” She was trying to sound tough, but her voice had gone husky.
He bit back a smile. “Yes, the women I kiss tend to get ideas. Love, marriage, a future. These are not things I plan on offering anyone.”
She huffed out a derisive sound. “Perhaps you are not nearly as charming as you give yourself credit for.”
He lifted a negligent shoulder. “Perhaps,” he agreed verbally…but did not agree internally, because he could see the effect he had on her.
Perhaps there was a glimmer of concern about the effect she had on him, but he could control things such as that.
He skimmed the back of his fingers along her jawline. She stood very still, though her jaw clenched. She did not betray any reaction, but he could see how hard she was working at betraying nothing.
It made him smile. And lean in.
“Why be worried, glikí mou?” he said, close enough he could feel her fluttered exhale against his mouth. “It is only pretend.”
Perhaps a reminder to himself as much as her.
He skimmed his lips against hers, featherlight. He could feel the ripple of shock go through her—it wasn’t what she’d expected. Which left her just enough off-kilter that she met the gentle easing closer with acquiescence.
Mouth still on hers, eyes open as he watched hers flutter closed, he covered one of her fisted hands with his own. He unfurled her fingers as he deepened the kiss, until her lips opened of their own accord, and he could sweep his tongue in to get a taste.
She tasted exotic. Like something rich and foreign and beyond his reach. Which poked at a strange anger deep inside him. Nothing was beyond his reach these days. He did not allow it.
So, he would just have to have her. No anger necessary. No feeling of being thwarted allowed.
He would simply use his excellent patience. Because the groundwork had to be laid first.
So he stepped back, releasing her completely, and then watching everything play out on her face with a fascination he did not quite understand or have a handle on just yet.
Her eyes fluttered open, color high in her cheeks, eyes dark and stormy. Her breathing was uneven as she stood there, still and possibly a little angry. But he wasn’t sure if it was him or herself she was angry at.
He could not catalogue anything that made her special or different. He had kissed beauties, innocents and experts alike. He had experienced everything he’d cared to in this life, and yet… She was different and singular, and he could not figure out why.
She said nothing, but a wariness crept into her expression to mix with a very clear want. Perhaps he was used to getting what he desired, and she was not. Perhaps that explained this strange dynamic.
“We leave for Mykonos the day after tomorrow,” he told her, somewhat brusquely. “I trust you will both be ready.”
She did not say anything. He assumed there was some internal fight going on, but she hid it well. Except for the fact she said nothing in response and did not move to go inside. It was the only hint she was fighting off some reaction.
This eased some of the tight, irritating bands around his lungs. Enough he managed a sharp smile.
“Sleep well, glikí mou.”
And he left her there, adjusting his own plans as he went.
Knowing he would not sleep well at all.
Ari could not deny that nerves assaulted her.
Mother sat on the couch, big sunglasses covering her face, her small bag clutched in her lap. She had agreed to go to the facility, though she’d been a little drunk at the time. But here in the cold light of morning, she had not lodged a complaint. She had done as she was told.
This was not unusual. Mother was not difficult simply to be difficult. When she wasn’t drinking, she was…apologetic. Docile. She always promised to do as Ari wanted and to stay away from alcohol and gambling.
In the past, when Ari had been a young child, these promises had sometimes lasted months. But as Ari had gotten older, spent more time at the boxing gym, lived her own life, Mother had backslid.
There was a guilt that lived inside of her because of that, but Ari supposed it matched her mother’s guilt for making life difficult.
A pair they were.
“I am not sure I want to go on a plane,” Maria said quietly as Ari double-checked her purse even though she knew she had everything. Zervou had said he would be here at nine, which was still fifteen minutes away, but they were both ready.
And clearly nervous.
“Well, I’m afraid you will be getting on one whether you want to or not.” Ari said this to her mother as much as she said it to herself. A reminder that, per usual, she had to be the adult in this situation and push them both forward.
“I do not know what this will do, Ari,” Mother said softly. “If it is a disease, perhaps it has taken hold so deep there is no cure.”
“Perhaps,” Ari agreed, because she had learned how to deal with her mother. Arguments did not work. Agreements did not work. Nothing really worked, but agreeing with her, placating her at least a little bit, often got them to the next step. “But it is worth a shot.”
“At the expense of selling your soul.” Maria did not say this bitterly, but Ari felt her bitterness all the same. Not at Ari but at the world.
“I am selling nothing, Mother,” Ari replied firmly.
“I would not be so sure.” Before Ari could say anything to that, Mother continued, “I know you can protect yourself, though. Keep your guard up.”
Ari swallowed down the boiling bitterness. At her mother. At everything. “I always do.” What choice did she have?
But the admonition brought back the memory of the way Zervou had kissed her. Was letting him kiss her like that keeping her guard up? Perhaps the kiss itself would have been fine, but she could not seem to stop thinking about it.
No one had ever kissed her like that. Not that she had much experience. She did not trust men enough to allow such access to her body, but when she’d been younger, softer, there had been times she’d allowed herself to be sweet-talked into a kiss.
Nothing like that. It was like her brain had simply ceased to work. She could think of nothing except the feelings in her body. The heat pumping off of him, the dark, rich taste of him. The way sensation had scattered through her, an explosion of something she did not know how to describe.
Except with one word.
Want.
She was too smart for this, and yet her body and flashes of physical memory did not seem to want to take that on board. She was walking a dangerous line, and usually she avoided dangers that weren’t strictly related to a boxing ring, but…
Her mother sat on the couch, purse still clutched in her hands. Nervous, worried, but Ari also saw the hope in her eyes. That somehow, someway, she might be…healed at this facility.
It was worth a million dangerous walks.
So Ari knelt next to her mother. Though this was spurred by vengeance, this opportunity to her mother was just as big, just as important. If she reminded herself of all she stood to gain from this, she could deal with everything else. She would.
“I want you to get better,” she told her mother earnestly. “This is a chance for that. If we both believe in it.”
Maria put her hand on Ari’s cheek. Ari’s heart throbbed with a terrible ache as her mother’s eyes filled. “I am sorry I can’t do it on my own,” Maria rasped.
Ari shook her head. “No. Do not be sorry.” They all knew where the true blame lay. “Be well.”
A brisk knock sounded at the door. No doubt Zervou or one of his staff. Ari had to pull herself together, focus on the goal. It had gotten her through. All these years, it had gotten her through.
She got to her feet, not able to meet her mother’s worried gaze.
She opened the door to Zervou himself. He was dressed as casually as she’d ever seen him. Still some kind of what she would call dress slacks with a loose button-down fit for Grecian beaches, she supposed.
It made her realize that whatever power he held, that confidence, that assured way he had of moving through life had nothing to do with his clothes or his money and had everything to do with the man he’d built himself into.
She envied that. She could manage it in the boxing ring, she thought, but in life, she was always beat right back down again.
Could this be the opportunity she’d been looking for, or was it just another step toward being beat down again?
“Are we ready to go?” he asked.
Ari desperately needed to cry, but she could not do it in front of him. So she firmed her jaw, blinked back the tears and met his gaze. “Yes, we are ready.”
For whatever came, she would be ready.