Chapter 18
Ares (Six Years Ago)
“The Only One Who Walked Away”
Iknew her before I ever had her. Back when she was just Zay’s little sister, moving like she already had status. Yuna Wells had a mouth on her.
Always had.
She disrespected people for fun.
Especially niggas like me.
Rich. Older. Around too long.
I used to see her in rooms we weren’t supposed to share, liquor in her hand, eyes low. She would look at me, take her time, then say something slick.
And I never checked her.
I let her talk.
Because I knew it wasn’t just talk.
This night in Vegas was supposed to be quick.
One night.
Two days after my birthday.
Taurus season.
I had just turned thirty.
No attachments. No distractions.
Just money, liquor, and whatever woman chose to be there.
That was the plan.
Until I walked into the club and saw her.
She was already drunk.
The section was full of the hottest rich girls from California. Bottles and drugs everywhere.
At this time, her naturally honey blonde hair was long and straight. Gym body right. Same look on her face like she didn’t care about anything around her.
She saw me, too, looked me over, and smirked.
I should’ve left her alone.
Instead, I told the club owner to merge the sections without asking them.
Now she was close to me.
I could smell the Chanel on her skin. I watched her jaw tighten and release. She kept touching her nose and wiping under it.
Coke habit.
I already knew.
I had seen her do it before.
Not my thing.
But I didn’t judge her.
All I thought was, if I ever got her, I would get her off that.
“You getting bold now with trying to get up on me?” she said, looking at me.
I leaned back. “I’ve always been bold, ma chérie.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start that French shit with me.”
“You like it.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. You just don’t like me.”
She leaned forward, watching me. “I don’t like niggas that think they can buy everything.”
“I don’t buy women.”
Her lips moved like she almost blushed. “There you go. That rich boy ego.”
“It’s not rich ego if it’s true.”
She let out a short laugh.
Something shifted.
The music was loud. People moved around us. Bottles came and went.
But me and her stayed focused on each other.
Back and forth. Me moving her onto my lap, her pretending like she ain’t wanna be there.
She acted like she wasn’t impressed.
But she stayed.
I leaned closer to her ear. “Can I take you out of here?”
She raised a brow. “Where?”
“I’m taking you on a date.”
She laughed. “In Vegas? At this time?”
“Yeah. I can make anything happen.”
She looked at me longer this time.
Her eyes were low. Pupils wide. She was high and drunk, but aware.
“I’m not one of your girls, Ares.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m asking.”
She held my gaze and then stood up.
“Let’s go.”
My car was already outside.
Blacked out Lambo.
She got in when the door opened for her.
I got in after her and pulled off.
Music loud. Window cracked.
“You always drive like this?” she asked as I blew through a red light on accident.
“Only when I got somewhere to be.”
She turned toward me.
“You think I’m worth going behind your best friend’s back?”
I looked at her. “Yeah.”
I had one hand on the wheel.
The other was on her inner thigh, too close to her pussy.
She didn’t move it.
I took her straight to the top of the Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas, private terrace already set, the Strip laid out under us. Private. Quiet.
Table set.
She walked ahead without checking if I was behind her.
I paid attention to that.
Dinner was quick. Wagyu steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and expensive champagne.
She barely ate.
“I know your type,” she said. “You like to control your bitches.”
“I don’t control anything but my money.”
“If you say so,” she sipped her champagne.
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“I’m not.”
I leaned forward. “I’ll marry you tonight if you let me.”
She blinked.
Then laughed.
“I’m not to be kept. I’m dangerous. I break hearts.”
“Not with me.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Let’s go up to my room and find out.”
She didn’t hesitate to follow me.
Back at my penthouse suite, she didn’t hesitate.
No games.
No pretending.
And for the first time…
I wasn’t fully in control.
She matched everything.
At some point, I started paying attention to her in a different way.
Not just touching her.
Watching her.
Remembering her.
The way she rode my dick, and talked back to me in French when I made her cum.
“Tu n'auras plus jamais ce sexe,” she said. You won’t get this pussy again.
I chuckled as I turned her over to her stomach and slid back inside of her.
“Tu m'as laissé baiser à cru,” I shot back at her before giving her deep strokes that had her gripping the sheets. You let me fuck raw.
I fell asleep with her in my arms after it was all over.
I don’t do that, and I shouldn’t have.
When I woke up at eleven in the morning…
She was gone.
No note.
Nothing left behind.
I grabbed my phone and called.
Straight to voicemail.
Called again.
Blocked.
I sat there with my phone in my hand.
My face balled up with irritation
My ego hit.
She played me.
No hesitation.
No attachment.
Just like she said she was.
From that night on…
I stopped moving like I had anything to prove.
Women became rotation.
Structure.
Control.
No room for surprises.
No room for women like her.
But I never forgot.
I would have dropped everything for her.
Now she has no choice but to be with me.