Ares
Twenty Three
The events of last night replayed in my mind like an endless, tormenting loop. The guilt clawed its way into my chest, piercing right through my fucking heart.
I should’ve known something was wrong when she demanded we skip the foreplay. She knew I wouldn’t have fucked her if I was made aware that she’d never been intimate before.
Fuck’s sake.
I’d called her immediately after I got home after dropping her off.
She forced me to help her look for her apartment keys which happened to be in her make-up bag, buried underneath the shit ton of cosmetics she owned.
Then I needed to help her into bed because she told me it was my fault that her legs ached.
Which was her putting it nicely.
After that she gave me her keys, commanded me to lock the front door when I left and then I needed to slide the keys underneath her door.
The Lord was my shepherd.
During our phone call, she requested we meet up the next day at a restaurant. Gave me a time, location, and strict instructions to follow but I didn’t question it.
Fast forward to the next day, I found myself entangled in a web of strange circumstances.
My phone rang loudly and it almost made me sigh until I saw Amala’s name flashing across the screen. I swiped to answer, holding the device against my ear. “Yes, princesa?”
“God, you’re pathetic.” I chuckled at her response. I’d been observing her for years so I knew she was either grimacing or rolling her eyes.
“And you’re peachy.” I deadpanned. “What can I help you with?”
“Where are you, Valiente?” She sounded irritated. “You’re late, so don’t ask me stupid questions.”
I leaned back against the concrete wall, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder while I put on my black latex gloves.
“Thank you for that information, I had no idea,” I said sarcastically, eyeing the man tied to the wooden chair, his mouth covered with duct tape. He screamed—well, attempted to scream as he thrashed in the chair.
“What is that noise?” I pushed myself off the wall, stalking towards the bastard.
“It’s just the television,” I said nonchalantly. “Listen, I’ll be there shortly. I’m behind schedule as you can see, so I’d rather not waste any more time with this trivial conversation.”
“Your existence is trivial.” She didn’t wait for me to respond and ended the call abruptly. I laughed humorlessly—locking the phone and sliding it into my pocket.
“Sorry about that,” I said to my … guest. He looked at me with wide eyes, breathing heavily through his nose with tears streaming down his face. I bent down so we were eye level. “Now, where were we?”
The question was rhetorical because one, I didn’t give a fuck about anything that’d come out of his mouth, and two, he couldn’t answer me given the circumstances.
The knife on the table directly next to him glinted, catching my eye. “You should’ve danced with someone else, Benjamin.” I sighed. “I suppose I could give you grace because you didn’t know any better but I’m not that lenient.”
He thrashed again, sobbing uncontrollably. “Your tears disgust me.”
I placed one hand on the back of the chair, causing him to flinch. “Easily frightened?” I asked before grabbing the duct tape covering his mouth. “I hope for your sake that you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
I ripped it off, making him groan. “Please, man. Let me go. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” He begged and I looked down at him with a bored expression. “You have—
“I don’t give a fuck.” I cut him off, pressing the knife against his throat. Hard enough to draw blood which made him wince.
The truth of the matter is that I wouldn’t have done this if I hadn’t fucked her. I already felt feral before that intimate moment but of course she happened to be a virgin.
That really set me off and I needed someone to take my frustrations out on. As if the unexplainable, intense emotions I felt towards her weren’t fucking tormenting me enough.
I’d been her first and the thought alone made my blood pound in my ear with possessive need. The need to kill an innocent man.
To dispose of him in an attempt to make myself feel better about the situation at hand.
The restaurant was dimly lit as I entered it, the hostess gracefully welcoming me into the establishment. “Good afternoon sir, do you have a reservation?” She asked politely with a smile.
I reciprocated the action, fixing the cuff links on my suit jacket. “Yes, table for two under Rivera.”
“Of course. Miss Rivera has already arrived, right this way.” The blonde woman led me towards the back of the restaurant, in a secluded corner where Amala was already seated.
She looked so elegant.
Poised.
Stoic.
You’d never know that just last night I had her body underneath mine as I took her innocence. Fuck.
The sensation in my groin nearly made me groan but I swallowed hard. Trying to rid my mind of the image.
That snake tattoo on her back looked absolutely beautiful—a replica of mine.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly.” The woman said as she gestured towards my seat and then swiftly disappeared. My chair scraped against the tiled floor before I sat down.
Amala watched me intently, crossing one leg over the other.
Her dress hugged her figure perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination. “Nice of you to finally join me.” She uttered but it lacked her usual bite.
She broke eye contact, picking up the toothpick with an olive on it that had been submerged in her martini and slowly took a bite of it.
I zeroed in on her lips for a few seconds then cleared my throat, eyes flicking to hers again.
“It’s been a busy afternoon.” I lied. “A man’s work is never done.” She tilted her head sideways, probably analysing me.
“We agreed to meet here at a certain time. Emphasis on we.”
She said calmly, almost too calmly. “Whether a man’s work is done or not. Doesn’t concern me.”
I chuckled softly, shaking my head while leaning back in my seat. “You’re seriously going to pick a fight with me right now? I thought we were making progress.”
“The term progress is all dependent on perspective. You have your views and I have mine.”
“So you don’t agree?”
I raised an eyebrow. Spreading my legs slightly while resting a hand on my thigh. Her eyes dropped down for a split second but I saw it. I saw everything when it came to this woman.
Another reason why I’d been fuming. Anger simmering in my fucking veins. I saw things I didn’t want to notice but I couldn’t control it.
“We’re definitely cordial. I don’t know if that’s really considered progress.” I ran a hand through my hair, huffing in annoyance.
“Cordial,” I said in disbelief, leaning forward. “I took your virginity last night and you’re telling me we’re fucking cordial?”
There it was. That crack in her stoicism. I watched her throat bob as she gulped before looking away and that irked me. I reached across the table, gripping her jaw firmly. With just enough pressure to make her look at me again.
“You’ve never had an issue holding eye contact before so don’t start looking away from me now, Amala.” This section of the vicinity was vacant but even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t have hesitated to react in the same manner. “You vex me.”
“You infuriate me.” She scoffed, gripping my forearm to help remove my hand from her face. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand this dynamic. I didn’t call you here to discuss it or overanalyse it.”
“Then why did you call me here?”
“There’s been a breakthrough.” She eyed me, clasping her hands together on the table. “Off the record. We think that the director is somehow involved in this case.”
I frowned, looking at her in disbelief. “Giovanni?” I questioned. “The man who’s been working for the Bureau for the past thirty years? That director?”
She looked around the restaurant, slowly. Observing.
The type of paranoia that most agents had when their unit was compromised. “Yes.” She said in a hushed tone. “A few days ago I spoke to Asher about it.”
“Is that what happened?”
I enquired, finding it a bit hard to believe that she just had a civil conversation about something this groundbreaking. “You just had this conversation, as per normal?”
“Well,” She tilted her head sideways, shrugging. “It didn’t start smoothly. You know the Bureau doesn’t take these accusations lightly. I briefly mentioned it during our discussion but that’s when Asher pulled me aside.”
I nodded, listening attentively.
“This is the reason I told you not to call anyone the morning I got shot. I still don’t know who to trust. Something about this case seems off.”
“I’m going to be honest with you.”
She hesitated. “I have the same gut feeling. Call it intuition if you will but I think there’s more to this case than what meets the eye and somewhere along the line, we’re missing critical information that is being withheld from us.”
She paused. “I don’t think it’s Asher or Stephanie but I think it’s someone in their inner circle.”
The waitress arrived which halted the conversation, the air thick with tension.
It surrounded us like a cloud of smoke. I ordered nothing but a measly salad, just wanting the waitress to leave because this wasn’t a casual conversation.
“Neither do I.” I agreed. “I don’t know who to trust, Amala but I trust you.” The words slipped before I could stop them and now they hung in the air, circling us.
She looked at me with those brown eyes that softened—slightly.
Regardless of our history, the woman was trustworthy and loyal to a fault. She’d never betray her comrades. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but—“ She released a soft breath. “I trust you too. I really do.”
The air shifted, like this was the first real progress we made since the day we met. “I’m honored,” I said sincerely.
“You should be.” She scoffed. “I don’t even trust my own mother.”
I raised an eyebrow, contemplating whether to ask for an explanation or not. “Don’t ask.” She waved her hand and I held mine up in mock surrender.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, clearing my throat. “Let me ask you this,” She shifted in her seat, watching me. “Do you think the Rossi’s are all related?”
Her eyes flicked from mine to the window for a split second.
“Yes.” She answered. “If he’s not doing this willingly then he’s definitely being blackmailed. Ian and Enzo are almost two decades younger than Giovanni so I don’t think they’d be close in that sense.”
“I trust your judgement.” The waitress returned, placing our food on the table and told us to signal her if we needed anything else. I clenched my jaw, watching the woman walk away.
“One more thing.” I reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.