8. Amala
Eight
Amala
The sunlight streaming through the curtains made me groan as I reluctantly pried one eye open.
The sight before me nearly sent me scrambling off the bed.
I released Ares’s shirt from my fist so quickly that I nearly fell over the edge, scrambling backwards until my feet found the floor.
“What the fuck?”
I whispered the words to myself, struggling to steady my uneven breathing.
Ares slept peacefully beside me, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady movements. He looked completely undisturbed by the fact that we were sharing a bed.
I glanced down at myself and frowned.
I was still wearing yesterday’s dress.
The last thing I remembered was drinking cocktails with the girls.
Or had they been shots?
I wasn’t entirely sure.
Perhaps we’d had both.
That would certainly explain the pounding in my head—and, apparently, why Ares and I had ended up sharing a bed.
He looked harmless in his sleep. Peaceful.
Almost angelic.
Then again, everyone looked innocent when they were motionless and unconscious.
My head throbbed violently, the sunlight only making my hangover worse.
There was nothing on our itinerary today, so I decided to spend Sunday by myself. I needed the solitude. More than ever.
I moved as quietly as possible, careful not to wake him. The last thing I needed was an awkward conversation or another round of our pathetic bickering.
The shower was equally quiet.
The steady rush of water filled the bathroom, somehow sounding louder than usual against the eerie silence of the room.
I stood beneath the hot stream for longer than necessary, trying to piece together the fragments of last night.
When I heard shuffling on the other side of the bathroom door, I hurriedly finished showering and got dressed.
Thankfully, I’d packed everything I needed into my travel-sized bag that sat neatly on the bedside table, practically begging to be grabbed.
I snatched it and hurried past Ares.
He undoubtedly watched me as I gathered my belongings and escaped the room within seconds.
The moment I stepped into the hallway, I sighed in relief.
My shoulders finally relaxed but my skin crawled at the mere thought of sharing a bed with a man, let alone a man I wouldn’t hesitate to kill if the opportunity ever presented itself.
How drunk had I been to allow that?
To allow myself to cling to him so tightly.
To fall asleep beside him.
Disgusting.
Yet, there was one thing I couldn’t ignore.
He had been lying peacefully beside me.
Which meant he had willingly stayed.
Why?
If he’d wanted to leave, he could have.
So why hadn’t he?
I grimaced and pressed the button with the upward arrow. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, clutching my bag tightly against my side.
The sigh that escaped me sounded heavy, as though the weight of the world rested on my shoulders.
Perhaps it did.
This weekend was supposed to be about relaxation. An opportunity to unwind, forget about work, and temporarily escape everything that plagued us on a daily basis.
Yet, I couldn’t seem to relax.
The elevator doors closed, and I immediately realised I hadn’t pressed a button.
“Jesus.”
I hurriedly selected the ground floor before leaning against the handrail.
My head spun.
I couldn’t tell whether it was the lingering effects of the alcohol or the movement of the elevator.
When the doors finally opened, I stepped out slowly, dragging my feet as I made my way through the hotel lobby and outside.
I’d done enough sightseeing during the weekend to know there was a cute little bookstore not too far away.
That’s where I’d spend my Sunday.
I loved reading, and bookstores had always offered me a strange sense of comfort. There was something peaceful about being surrounded by shelves upon shelves of stories.
A lot of people disliked silence.
I relished it.
My occupation threw me into noise and chaos every single day, forcing my mind to work overtime.
My demons needed silence and so did I.
Otherwise, I’d lose whatever little sanity I had left.
Thankfully, the bookstore was relatively empty and I internally jumped for joy.
I smiled at the staff members as I entered, offering them a polite nod when they welcomed me warmly.
Then I headed straight for the romance section.
I picked a random book from the shelf before settling at an empty table tucked away at the back of the store.
My brown mini skirt rode up my thighs as I sat, so I tugged it down before crossing one leg over the other.
Vista had forced me out of my usual comfort zone when it came to clothing. The heat here was relentless.
My cropped cream shirt matched my sneakers perfectly. One thing I would never be caught wearing outside, however, was slippers.
Absolutely not.
I became so engrossed in the novel that I failed to notice the unwelcomed presence taking the seat beside me.
Until his voice skated across my skin.
“I didn’t know you could read.”
My eyes narrowed slowly as I turned my head.
Ares.
Of fucking course.
“You’re like a demonic entity that simply refuses to leave me alone.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why on Earth couldn’t this conversation wait until I returned to the room we share?”
I forced a smile, keeping my voice low to avoid attracting unnecessary attention.
“How did you even know where to find me?” I asked under my breath. “You’re creepy as fuck.”
I abruptly stood, returned the book to the shelf, thanked the staff, and headed for the exit.
“Amala.”
Ares’s voice followed me but I kept walking.
“Amala.”
I ignored him until his hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me toward a quieter street.
“Let me go.”
“Would you stop behaving like a wild animal?”
He glared at me. “For fuck’s sake.”
He released an exasperated sigh before placing a hand against the wall beside me, effectively trapping me against the side of the building.
My gaze dropped to where his other hand still held my wrist.
When he noticed this, he immediately released me.
“Well?” I demanded. “What’s so important that you couldn’t wait until I returned? I haven’t got all day.”
“What happened last night is bothering me.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“What happened last night?” I folded my arms across my chest.
His gaze briefly dropped before he quickly looked away.
I noticed but I chose to ignore it.
I couldn’t remember much of what happened after returning to our room, so I waited for him to explain.
“You got drunk out of your mind,” he said casually, “and then you begged me to sleep with you.”
My jaw dropped.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I refused to believe I’d actually done something that humiliating.
“Of course you don’t remember.” His mouth twitched. “I suppose that’s what happens when you can’t handle your liquor.”
“If you’re here to bicker, I’m not in the mood, Ares.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Why can’t you leave me the fuck alone?”
“Bicker?” He let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t care to fucking bicker with you, Amala.”
His expression hardened. “What I don’t like is you putting me in an uncomfortable position. Not once, but twice.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know we’re not fond of each other, but for the love of fucking Christ.” He dragged a hand down his face. “You could’ve told me about your allergens.”
My expression hardened.
“You seem so fucking carefree about the whole ordeal, but had I not reacted quickly, your family would be planning your funeral right now.”
“Oh, fuck you.” I shook my head.
“You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t know how I’m feeling. So don’t project your bullshit assumptions onto me. You got your thank-you, didn’t you? What else do you want from me?”
“You still think this is about a thank-you?”
He stepped closer.
“This is why I fucking loathe you. You’re so goddamn dense, and I often wonder how you’re supposed to watch my six with that intelligence level of yours.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Your mother’s dense.”
The words had barely left my mouth before his eyes blazed and somehow, that only fuelled my own rage.
“You’re the most misogynistic bastard I’ve ever met. Your outdated ideology about women makes me fucking sick. You’re just like every other man in the Bureau.”
“Mention my mother again and I—”
“You’ll what?” I cut him off, stepping closer.
I kept enough distance between us to avoid having to crane my neck just to look at him. I refused to stand beneath him as though he were some kind of god.
“What the fuck are you going to do?” He said nothing, obviously. “That’s what I thought.”
I scoffed.
“Why did you even come here? Why do you insist on being such a fucking pest?”
“I came here because I clearly overestimated you.” His jaw ticked. “Why did I ever think we could have a civil conversation?”
“I’m never going to have a civil conversation with you outside of work. Never.”
I spat the words between us.
“So forget about that stupid fucking thought.”
I stepped around him.
“You’re like a disease, honestly. Just fuck off.”
For some reason, he looked genuinely taken aback.
Only for a second.
Then his expression hardened again.
He nodded once, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and turned on his heel without another word.
I watched him walk away, anger simmering beneath my skin.
I exhaled slowly, trying to calm myself and rein in the emotions threatening to consume me.
Because somehow, despite everything, his words had gotten under my skin.
And I fucking hated that.