Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
APOLLO
When I was a boy, my father saw my talent for numbers and raised me in his likeness. Even though I’m younger than Ares, our dad always treated me like I was the oldest.
The more responsible one.
While Ares was out getting high and fighting, I learned how to be the man of the house. Dad said my job was to protect the family when he wasn’t around.
I was only fourteen.
That was ten years ago.
Back then, Atlas always had his head in the clouds. He was too busy looking for inspiration to care about anything happening in the real world. Not much has changed in all these years.
My brothers have their strengths. But in our current situation, neither can help dig us out of this mess. Not after the police take one look at them covered in tattoos, immediately rendering them thugs.
As I open the door for the police, I step into the role my father groomed me to play. I am the head of this household.
“Hello, officers,” I say with a pleasant smile aimed at the middle-aged men on our doorstep. “How can I help you?”
Be polite.
Smile.
Those were my dad’s rules if the police or any of the authorities ever came knocking. He worked for Belen for most of his life. Even when they were in high school, hustling money from kids, Belen was always the boss. My dad was straighter-laced and, even back then, handled the cash.
“Good evening, we’re looking for Mrs. Athena Drakos,” the tallest of the cops says.
“That’s my mother,” I tell them and hold open the door wider. “I’m Apollo Demetriou.”
The taller man nods. “Is your mother home, Mr. Demetriou? We need to ask her a few questions.”
Mom appears in the entryway, dabbing at her fake tears with a silk scarf. “I saw the news and have been worried sick. Belen won’t answer my calls. Do you think he was in the building when it set fire?”
“Ma’am, can we come inside? We’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband.”
“Of course.” She tips her head back and gives an Oscar-worthy performance that looks real to anyone who doesn’t know her. “Anything to help find my Belen.”
I want to gag.
My mother is nothing short of spectacular, as usual. Our mother can fool anyone. She’s good at pretending she gives a damn about Belen.
Ares and Atlas are keeping Ophelia busy in the sitting room. She was too much of a mess. Even though she offered to help, I didn’t see any reason for it. With how unstable she’s been all night, the police might become more suspicious.
I guide them into the kitchen and point at the table. “We can sit here and talk.”
Mom readies the French press and says, “My husband and I regularly donate to the Beacon Bay Police Department. We’re very supportive of everything you do for this community.”
Tone it down, Athena.
Sometimes, my mom can be over-the-top. But turning on the charm is what she does best. I learned that from her.
As she fixes the coffee, I sit with Officer Lawrence and Officer Matthews at the kitchen table. “Do you have any leads on the fire at Kallidromo?”
“The fire department has already ruled it as arson,” Officer Lawrence says. “Whoever set fire to the club had intent. The club is now a crime scene.”
I remain expressionless and ask, “Do you have any suspects?”
Officer Matthews looks at my mom, eyes narrowed. Does he think she had something to do with the fire? He doesn’t speak, turning his head away when he catches me watching him.
Officer Lawrence says, “We have a few people in mind but no solid leads. Until we find Belen Drakos, we’re keeping all options open.”
So they think Belen could have set the fire to the club. It wouldn’t be the first time one of Belen’s clubs mysteriously burned down to collect the insurance money. That’s why I suggested it to my mother. If he perished in the fire, it would look like another one of his schemes went wrong.
No one got hurt.
Only Belen.
The club doesn’t open until nine o’clock, and The Serpents set the fire at eight-thirty. They locked Belen in a back room to burn to death as planned. He deserved much worse for making our lives hell for the past ten years.
So far, the news has reported no casualties. But soon enough, they will recover Belen’s body. And when they do, we inherit the Drakos empire.
My poor mother had to have sex with that piece of shit so we could get this far. That was a sacrifice. The thought of his slimy hands on my mother made me want to vomit each night we spent in his house.
Knowing we had a short-term goal got me through it. My carefully laid plans are falling into place like chess pieces moving across the board.
We’re so close.
Mom sets the coffee, creamer, and sugar on the table in front of the police officers and takes her place beside me.
“Mrs. Drakos, do you know where your husband went tonight?” Officer Matthews asks.
She sits up straighter, head held high. “I ate dinner with Belen and my sons around six-thirty, and then he left to deal with one of his businesses. I honestly couldn’t tell you which one because he owns so many.”
“Where were you at eight-thirty this evening?”
“At home with my sons.”
“How many sons do you have?”
“Three.”
He nods. “Are they home now?”
She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder, maintaining her flawless exterior. “They’re in the house somewhere.”
“We need to speak with them, Ma’am,” Officer Lawrence says before turning his gaze to me. “What were you doing at eight-thirty this evening, Mr. Demetriou?
“I was at home with my mother and brothers, watching a movie in the den.”
“Which one?” Lawrence asks.
“Our mother’s favorite,” I lie, “Gone with the Wind.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You were home on a Saturday night watching classic movies with your mother?”
“And my brothers,” I add.
That earns me another nasty look from Lawrence. “How old are you, Mr. Demetriou?”
“Twenty-four. But I don’t see how my age relates to what I was doing this evening.”
Down boy.
I regain my composure and act untouched by their line of questioning.
“We’re going to need to speak with your brothers.”
I push myself up from the table and nod. “Sure, I’ll go get them.”
Mom gives me a look that says, Make sure Ares looks decent. He wasn’t wearing a shirt the last time I saw him because he washed away Ophelia’s tears with it. And Ophelia didn’t look so hot, either. She looked as if she hadn’t showered or eaten in days.
Seeing Ophelia in terrible shape broke my heart. We did that to her, and I hate myself for it.
“Ares, stop it,” Ophelia says as I enter the sitting room, slapping his hand. “I’m mad at you.”
“Baby, I’m sorry.” He leans in for a kiss, but she pushes on his chest to keep him away. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
“Not now, lover boy.” I cross the room to stand in front of the coffee table.
“Get upstairs, dress in a long-sleeve shirt, and hide your tattoos.” My gaze sweeps over to Atlas.
He looks less like a thug than Ares, but cops take one look at all that ink and think they’re in a gang.
“Maybe you should too, Atlas. The police want to speak with both of you about us staying in with Mom and watching Gone with the Wind.”
“What the fuck?” Ares groans, tugging at the short ends of his black hair. “I hate that fucking movie.”
“Well, Mom loves it. I told the officers we watched it with her in the den at eight-thirty.”
Atlas gets up first. “Do they think we had something to do with the fire?”
I shrug. “Who knows? But they’re asking questions like they think we could be involved.”
“Those are just standard questions,” Ophelia says. “The cops always come here, grilling my dad about stuff that happened at his clubs. They need your alibis to rule you out as suspects.”
I clap my hands since Ares isn’t moving from the couch. “Chop, chop. Get upstairs and change into something decent. You can’t walk into the kitchen without a shirt and all that ink.”
Ares slips his arm behind Ophelia’s back and lifts her off the couch.
“Ares,” she whines. “You know I hate—“
“You’re fucking perfect, little dragon. There’s no part of you I will ever find disgusting.” He bends down and kisses her forehead, his hand dipping beneath the hem of her T-shirt. “This is mine.”
A soft moan slides past her lips as he caresses her beneath the shirt. “Ares, I’m not yours.”
“Mine,” he growls as his hand falls away from her body. “Come on. We have to talk to the cops.”
“She can’t come with us,” I interject. “I didn’t mention Ophelia being here tonight. They’re already suspicious. We don’t need to add fuel to the fire.”
“So,” Ares shoots back. “She lives here. Ophelia has every right to be in this house.”
“Technically, I don’t live here anymore,” she says in a clipped tone. “I live at Uncle Alexander’s house.”
“The police will ask why your dad kicked you out,” I tell her. “Stay here until they leave.”
She moves in front of my brothers and looks at me. “Which officers are here?”
“Matthews and Lawrence.”
A smile tips up the corners of her mouth. “I know Lawrence. He’s in my dad’s pocket. I’ll go with you.”
Ares curls his arm around her and smirks. “Come help me change, little dragon.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a desire in them. He attempts to kiss her again, and she turns her head.
“This isn’t playtime, Ares. The cops are waiting for us.”