CHAPTER FIVE
ALEXANDRA JONES
IALWAYS HATED CLOSING THE LIbrARY BECAUSE I HADto do everything-clean the shelves, sort the chairs and close the tills. However, once you get the hang of it, it seems pretty easy, and it doesn’t take as long as it does the first time you do it. I tried to look up the accident online but found nothing, if it was such a tragic accident then why isn’t it online?
Unless maybe he had something to do with it?
Or maybe Catherine is lying to me? But why would she?
As I reach to flip the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed,’ I notice Ares walking towards the door. Panic surges through me, but I manage to lock the door just in time as he stood outside, looking at me with a perplexed expression. His hands were tucked in his hoodie pocket, and his piercing gaze met mine.
“We’re closed,” I said firmly, trying to hide the unease in my voice.
“I’m not here for the books, butterfly,” he replies, his tone measured.
“What do you want?” I shot back, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Open the door, Alexandra,” he orders, but I shook my head, my grip on the doorknob tightening.
“Go away, Ares,” I insist, hoping he would leave without any further trouble.
A shift in his demeanour was evident, and he asks, “is there anything you would like to ask me before you start acting like I’m your stalker?” He leans his shoulder against the door, a challenging glint in his eyes.
His words caught me off guard.
How did he know I had questions about him?
“You’re nothing but trouble, Ares. I heard the stories.” I said, trying to keep my composure.
He releases a chuckle, his body vibrating with amusement before turning to face me. A sinister smile spread across his face, sending shivers down my spine.
“I love stories. Which one did they tell you?”
“You’re reckless,” I respond, not backing down. “You killed a girl in a car accident.”
His expression darkens, his jaw tensing as if the memory haunted him. “You know nothing about that accident,” he whispers angrily. “I should have known you were like the rest of them, ready to believe anything anyone tells you.”
The intensity in his eyes was deep, and for a moment, I glimpsed a vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. As much as I wanted to understand the truth, I also knew that there was more to Ares than met the eye.
“Then tell me what I should believe Ares.”
“Me.” He answers.
“I don’t trust you; I don’t even know you.”
Ares took a step closer against the locked door, his eyes never leaving mine. “Then get to know me,” he answers, his voice low and steady.
His words tugged at my emotions, but I remained cautious. “It’s not that simple,” I admit, feeling torn between curiosity and fear. “People say a lot of things, and I don’t know what’s true or not.”
“Let me show you who I am, beyond the rumours and the past,” he said earnestly. “I won’t ask you to trust me right away but give me a chance to prove myself to you.”
I hesitate, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to believe him, to see the man beyond the rumours, but another part was afraid of the consequences. Are they really worth it?
“Alexandra,” he said softly, using my full name, “I promise I won’t hurt you. Just spend some time with me, and you’ll see.”
“Why do you care so much about what I think?” I speak.
He shrugs his shoulders.
“I don’t know butterfly. I just do.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside me.
“Okay,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you a chance.” I unlock the door and pull it open.
“Let me take you home,” he offers. “The streets are dangerous.”
I nod my head and go off to grab my things, switching the lights off I follow Ares out of the library after locking the doors. He opens the door for me, and I slide inside.
“What time do you have to be home?” He asks.
“Like an hour or two.” I respond to him.
He begins to go another route, my eyes widened, and I grip the door handle.
He’s kidnapping me.
“I’m not kidnapping you, Alexandra.”
“I would never think that.” I whisper out.
We enter a street lined with shops, and Ares parks his car outside the tattoo shop where he works. After turning off the engine, he got out, and I followed suit, leaving my belongings in the car. I look around the empty streets, folding my arms across my chest.
He fishes out his keys and unlocks the cage covering the entrance. I watched him carefully as he slid up the cage door, granting us access. “Come on,” he said, and I follow him inside, the door closing behind us. The tattoo parlour is dimly lit, and Ares walks ahead, turning on the lights as we went. I thought about the risk I was taking. If my parents found out I was skipping work and with a boy in a tattoo parlour, they’d be furious. They were strict and wouldn’t understand my desire to explore life beyond their constraints.
As Ares led me into one of the rooms, I couldn’t help but voice my concern, “is your boss okay with this? Won’t he be angry?”
Ares shrugged nonchalantly, “don’t think so.”
I settle into the chair beside the long bed where people usually got their tattoos. Ares walks over to his desk, handing me a drawing pen.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, intrigued by his intentions.
He stood up and casually slid his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. My eyes widen at the unexpected sight, and I quickly look away, feeling a bit flustered. It was the first time I had seen a half-naked man, and I wasn’t sure how to react. But curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn’t help but steal a quick glance.
Ares’ body was nothing short of breath-taking.
The fabric of his shirt clung to him like a second skin as he moved, the material stretching and contracting with the subtle play of his muscles. With each motion, the shirt inched upward, unveiling the sculpted terrain of his abdomen and chest.
His toned physique was a masterpiece, accentuated by the play of light and shadow dancing across the defined contours.
As the shirt gracefully slid over his muscular arms, the fabric grazed his skin, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Downward it descended, tracing the curvature of his back. His back muscles flexed slightly, creating a mesmerising display of strength and grace.
Intricate tattoos adorned his torso, each design telling a story of his journey through life. Yet, his chest remained untouched, like an unexplored territory, a canvas awaiting its masterpiece.
“We’re not going to have sex.” I spill out.
“And what would a pen have to do with sex, butterfly?”
“I don’t know. I-You just took your shirt off-” I stammered, trying to regain my composure.
“If I wanted to have sex with you, your clothes would be off first.”
Butterflies.
“Right. Well. Why are we here then?”
“Draw me something to tattoo,” he said, his voice low and magnetic. He reclines onto the chair, his back against the soft surface, and his stomach bared to the ceiling.
“Are you being serious?” I ask, my heart fluttering with anticipation.
He nodded, his lips curving into a sly grin. “You only have one hour, and a half left, get drawing.”
“Anything?” I question, a small smile spreading across my cheeks.
“Anything.”
Stepping closer to Ares, I could feel the tension in the air, the electrifying chemistry between us. Ignoring the exhilaration that coursed through my veins, I focused on the task at hand.
I rested my hand on his sculpted chest, feeling the heat emanating from his skin. His breath hitched slightly, and a spark of connection surged between us.
“Sorry, I have cold hands.” I whisper.
As I continue drawing on Ares’ chest, the butterflies in my own stomach seemed to match each stroke of the pen. It was strange how the design came to me—an impulse driven by the tattoos on his hands. They seemed to hold a story, a hidden world of sentiment and meaning that drew me in like a moth to a flame.
The butterfly took shape beneath my hand, and I added other intricate designs around it, feeling an undeniable connection to the canvas before me. Ares remained still; his eyes fixed on my every move. The intimacy of the moment hung in the air like a charged electric current, fuelling the chemistry between us.
Unaware of the passing time, I focus intently on making sure every detail was symmetrical, my heart pounding with each delicate stroke.
My phone rang, breaking the spell, I saw my mother’s name on the screen, reminding me of the reality waiting outside this intimate bubble. “I have to go; my mum is asking for me,” I said reluctantly.
Ares nodded, understanding, but before I could leave, I grab his shirt and hand it to him.
“You can’t look at it,” I said.
“I won’t,” he assured me with a playful smile.
As I hurriedly gather my things and prepare to leave.
“I’ll come by tomorrow and finish it off, if you want,” I suggested, trying to hide my eagerness.
“Come by at six,” he replies.
“And you promise not to look at it?”
“Guess you’ll have to trust me not to.”