CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ARES NICOLAIDES
IGENTLY LAY ALEXANDRA DOWN ONTO HER BED.
Her body fidgeting slightly in her drunken slumber. She was completely out of it, lost in the haze of the alcohol.
I sigh, worried about her, but knowing she needed rest to recover from the night’s events. Carefully, I begin to remove her heels, setting them aside, and then proceed to unzip her black dress. As I help her out of the dress, I can’t help but notice the room around me. It’s neat and tidy, with a touch of feminine elegance. The soft glow of a lamp casts a warm hue over the space, creating a comforting atmosphere. The walls are adorned with paintings and photographs, highlighting memories and moments that have shaped Alexandra’s life.
I walk over to the closet, thinking I might find some comfortable clothes for her to sleep in.
As I open the door, I am taken aback by what I see. The inside of the door is covered in a detailed map of the city, with red, blue, and white dots pinned into various locations. Red strings crisscross the map, connecting different points of interest.
It looks like some sort of investigation, but for what?
I glance at the other door, and my eyes are drawn to a collage of newspaper headlines, all featuring the word “Diávolos.”
What the hell? She’s chasing after a killer. Why?
She shouldn’t be doing that.
I glance back at her, to see her turned to the other side with the blanket now over her half naked form. I slide off my shirt and walk over to her; she groans as I push away the blanket and slide my shirt over her head.
I leave Alexandra’s room using the balcony exit.
As I descend the stairs, my eyes catch sight of Catherine standing by the opposite balcony, her arms tightly folded across her chest, and her gaze fixated on me with an intense, almost hostile expression.
“Stay away from her, Ares,” she warns me, her voice laced with a mix of anger and concern.
I let out a low, humourless chuckle, shaking my head slightly as I raise my eyes to meet hers. “Oh, Catherine, I never knew you cared so much,” I reply, my tone laced with a touch of sarcasm.
“I’m serious. You’re nothing but trouble. Before you came, Alex was completely fine,” she insists, her jaw tense with determination.
My amusement fades, and I fix her with a serious look. “You’re a good friend, Catherine, but if only you were good enough to tell her the truth,” I retort, my voice steady and firm.
She takes a step closer, her eyes locking onto mine with intensity. “I’m not telling her to protect her, because she-” she starts, her voice faltering as she struggles to find the right words.
“That’s enough from you,” I cut her off, my patience wearing thin. “You don’t get to play the martyr here.”
“You don’t understand,” she begins, her voice quivering with emotion.
“I understand more than you think,” I interject, my voice growing colder.
Suddenly, she seems to gather herself, her eyes narrowing with determination. “Don’t you dare-” she starts to say, but I don’t let her finish.
“Don’t I dare what?” I challenge her, my tone sharp. “Go on. You’re nothing but a liar, Catherine.”
Her anger flares, and she takes another step forward, closing the distance between us. “I’m not telling her because she’s better off not knowing the truth,” she declares, her voice tinged with desperation.
“That’s your opinion,” I retort, my voice unwavering. “But it’s not your decision to make.”
Her fists clench at her sides, and for a moment, it feels like the tension in the air is suffocating. “I’m trying to protect her,” she insists, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Protect her?” I challenge, my eyes narrowing. “The truth has a way of coming out, Catherine. And when it does, the fallout will be worse if she finds out you’ve been keeping things from her.”
Her face contorts with conflict, torn between her loyalty to Alexandra and her fear of the consequences. “I can handle it,” she says finally, her voice quieter.
“No, you can’t,” I respond firmly, my gaze never leaving hers.
“Well, if you were such an honest man, why aren’t you telling her?” She shoots back at me.
“In due time, Cathy, in due time.” There’s a moment of silence as our eyes lock in a tense standoff. I can see the turmoil in her expression, the weight of her secret burdening her. “And if you ever threaten me or try to push me away from her again like you have been doing, well I’ll leave the rest to you.”
“I did what you asked! I brough her to you-”
A smirk spreads across my lips, “and it worked wonders.”
As Catherine finally looks away, I turn on my heels and walk away, leaving her to wrestle with her conscience and the consequences of her choices.
I slide into my car and begin to drive towards my house.
I glance down at a text my brother sent:
Adonis (12:49am): you made me invite Elmer and you left? I had to do the job for you.
Fuck. I forgot about that.
I glance up at the red light, and begin typing…
Ares (12:50am): had to deal with a few things.
He doesn’t respond, and I chuck my phone to the side as I enter my drive. I switch the car off and head to my door, I push my key in and hear the TV on in the living room. I glance down at the shoes next to the door.
Fucking Atlas and Adonis.
I chuck my keys onto the side table and make my way there; I lean against the frame and watch them. They both turn to look at me simultaneously, and I can’t help but feel a sense of guilt and regret wash over me. Shaking my head, I decide to distance myself from the situation and head to the kitchen.
In the dimly lit kitchen, I open the cupboard and grab a bottle of whiskey. As I turn around, I find Adonis leaning against the island, his concerned eyes locking onto mine.
“What happened?” He inquires, his voice laced with worry.
“She got drugged,” I reply tersely, pouring whiskey into a glass with ice. Adonis sighs and takes a seat on one of the stools.
“Fuck, man. Is she okay?” He asks with genuine concern.
I nod my head. “She’ll be fine,” I assure him, pouring another glass of whiskey for my brother.
As I continue to prepare the drinks, Adonis probes further, sensing that something more is bothering me. “What’s really going on, Ares?”
“I ruined the plan,” I admit, the frustration and disappointment evident in my voice. “I’m trying to do everything according to the list, but I fucked it up.”
Adonis looks at me intently, concern etched on his face. “Ares, why can’t you just leave the list, the plan, and make her fall for you naturally?” He whispers, genuinely questioning my approach.
I shake my head, avoiding his gaze, and stare ahead at the bottles lined up on the kitchen counter. “I can’t,” I say, my voice heavy with the weight of my convictions. “This is how she’ll love me, and this is how I’m going to do it. I’ve worked two years on this, and it’s all ruined. Don’t you get it? She’ll never-”
“Stop thinking so negatively,” Adonis interjects firmly, his words cutting through my self-doubt. “You’ve got to let go of this plan and just be yourself. If you keep trying to control everything, you’ll end up pushing her away.”
I shake my head and settle my empty glass inside the sink as Adonis stands.
I glance at him, conflicted emotions swirling inside me. Adonis’s advice strikes a chord within me, and I realise that perhaps he is right.
“Just fuck off.” I whisper.
ALEXANDRA JONES
I couldn’t stop vomiting, I guess I was completely hungover, and it was moments like this where I thanked the lord for giving me my own bathroom. I couldn’t remember anything that happened before I was completely drugged. But I woke up in this oversized shirt that I know belonged to Ares, after cleaning myself up and all, I head to my bedroom and grab my phone that was plugged in the charge.
One I switched it on, my phone overloads with messages from Catherine, phone calls and voicemails. I press onto Ares number and send him a message:
Alexandra (1:07pm): thank you for yesterday.
Ares (1:09pm): don’t need to thank me butterfly.
With my parents away at my aunt’s house, I take advantage of the empty house. I head downstairs, the exhaustion from the club and the adrenaline of the altercation with the stranger still lingers in my body. I seek comfort in my favourite treat, heading to the fridge to grab a tub of creamy ice cream and a bowl of juicy pomegranate seeds.
The soft glow of the TV illuminates the living room as I switch it on, filling the room with a comforting ambiance. The familiar hum of the television provides a soothing background noise, easing the tension that had built up in me throughout the night.
As I settle on the couch, spooning the cold ice cream into my mouth, my mind drifts back to Ares. The events of the night replay in my thoughts, and I can’t help but wonder about him. The warnings I’ve received from multiple people about him being dangerous confuse me. From my perspective, Ares has shown nothing but kindness and care, going out of his way to protect and help me.
The desire to know more about him battles with the need to stay cautious and protect myself.
Hours go by, and my favourite TV show is on. Friends.
“There’s nothing to tell! He’s just some guy I work with!”
“C”mon, you’re going out with the guy! There’s got to be something wrong with him!” Joey blurts.
“So, does he have a hump? A hump and a hairpiece?”
“Wait, does he eat chalk?”
They all stare, bemused.I let out a soft laugh, biting into the spoon filled with pomegranate. Chinese takeout flowed across the living room table.
“Just, cause, I don’t want her to go through what I went through with Carl- oh!”
“Okay, everybody relax. This is not even a date. It’s just two people going out to dinner and- not having sex.”
My heart pounds loudly in my chest as the crashing noise startles me from the comfort of the living room. I pause the TV show, my fingers trembling slightly as I try to figure out what the sound was, and where it came from. Fear grips me, and I instinctively seek something to defend myself with.
In my haste, I grab a kitchen knife, my hands clutching it tightly for a sense of security. I slowly ascend the stairs, my body tensed, and my mind racing with possibilities of what awaits me. Every creak of the stairs feels like a thundering echo in the silent house, making me feel more vulnerable.
I reach the top of the staircase, the hallway stretching ahead of me, and my parents’ bedroom is the first one I check. It appears untouched, offering some relief to my escalating anxiety.
The sound definitely came from my room.
I take a deep breath, gathering my courage, and cautiously approach my bedroom. My heart leaps into my throat as I push the door open, preparing for the worst.
And there he was.
Diávolos....
He is laying on my bed, with blood pouring out from somewhere-his hands completely soaked in his blood as he looks me right in the eyes. “Diávolos?” I whisper his name, looking around the room to see my balcony doors open.
A handprint on the walls and my desk, my snow globe on the ground crashed into pieces along with papers. I rush to his side, “what? What do I do?” I whisper.
Diávolos looks up at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. The sight of him in this state makes me realise that there’s more to him than meets the eye.
My mind is flooded with questions.
“Alcohol, a first aid kit.” He mumbles under his breath; I nod my head and rush downstairs. I enter the kitchen and pull open my dad’s cupboard before slipping out the bottle of vodka. I then turn and crouch down to the cupboard under the sink, sliding out the first aid kit.
Rushing upstairs, I shut the door behind me and make my way to him.
“Disinfect your hand.” He speaks, lowly-I could barely hear what he’s saying.
I grab the bottle of vodka and unscrew the lid before pouring it onto my hand. He slowly raises his black hoodie revealing a long knife wound on his lower right abdomen. He takes the bottle from my hand and closes his eyes before pouring it onto the wound, I flinch myself knowing how painful that must be.
“Stitch it,” he says, his voice barely audible. I hesitate, feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what to do.
“I can’t-let me take you to the hospital.”
“Stitch it now.” He orders me.
So, I open the first aid kit, grab a needle and thread, and attempt to stitch the wound. The whole situation feels surreal and terrifying.
I’ve never done anything like this before, and I can’t shake the fear of making things worse. My hands tremble as I try to follow his instructions, trying my best to stitch the wound together as gently and carefully as possible. Diávolos winces in pain, but he remains surprisingly calm and composed throughout the ordeal.
The whole experience is unsettling, and I can’t help but feel a mixture of fear and sympathy for him. I can’t fully comprehend why he’s here, wounded and seeking help from me of all people. The scent of alcohol fills the air, mixed with the metallic smell of blood, creating an atmosphere that only heightens my unease.
As I continue stitching, I can’t shake the feeling that this is something I shouldn’t be involved in. I’m just an ordinary girl, not equipped to deal with dangerous situations like this. But here I am, in the midst of a harrowing moment, assisting a man who seems to be entangled in something far beyond my understanding.
When I finally finish stitching the wound, I step back, my heart still pounding in my chest.
Diávolos closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, and then looks at me with a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes.
My hands were bloody, I open the kit and take out the patch big enough before plastering it over the wound. He grabs the nearly finished bottle of vodka and lifts his mask before drinking it all.
He doesn’t look at me before trying to stand, he suddenly stumbled, and I rush to him offering to help but he pushes my hand away.
“I’m just trying to help.” I speak.
“I don’t need your help anymore.” He responds.
“You need to sit down; you’ll rip your stitches.” I watch him settle down onto my chair, clearly in a lot of pain.
I grab my bedsheets, and towels that I used before shoving it into a bin bag and leaving it outside my door. I enter my bathroom and wash the blood of my hands.
The sink turning red as I look into the mirror, I wanted to call Ares.
But I didn’t want too at the same time.
Diávolos trusted me enough to come to me.
I slowly exit the bathroom and wipe my now clean hands with a towel.
I head back inside the room, standing inches away from him. Watching his every move.
He stands up suddenly, towering over me.
His fingers trail down my cheeks before he lifts my chin to look at him, his thumb gently brushes down my lip. “Diávolos.” I whisper his name.
Is he going to kiss me again?
Did I want him too?
I felt guilty, because of Ares.
This isn’t right of me, but God did it feel right.
He pulls onto my bottom lip, revealing my lower teeth. His eyes travelling all over my face, as if he’s trying to read the signs.
Our breaths mingle, and I can feel the tension building between us. Diávolos leans in, and I instinctively raise my hands to touch him. I gently lift his mask, wanting to see his lips, wanting to feel the fullness of his kiss.
His eyes never leave mine as he takes in my actions. I feel his warm hands slide to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. My heart races, and I can hear the blood pounding in my ears.
He hovers his lips over mine, teasing me with his closeness. The anticipation is almost unbearable.
Inches away from kissing me.
He’s teasing me.
His lips gently press for a moment, and then his canines grab onto my bottom lip-gently pulling it. Then his lips mould into mine, the way our lips move in sync-everything in this moment now felt right.
He grabs my cheeks, forcing my mouth open before his tongue slides inside. I moan as our tongues wrap around one another. He then begins to trail my jaw with wet kisses, he leaned in, his warm breath brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. His lips made gentle contact with the curve of my neck, and I felt a rush of excitement wash over me.
His touch was soft and tender, each kiss leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. His lips moved slowly, exploring every inch of my neck with a delicate touch. I closed my eyes, savouring the sensation as he continued his intimate caress. His hands gently cradled my face, guiding me closer to him. I could feel the beating of his heart against my chest, a rhythmic melody that mirrored the pace of my own racing heart. He pressed his lips more firmly against my skin, his teeth grazing lightly, eliciting a gasp from me. The mix of pleasure and desire was overwhelming, and I instinctively tilted my head to give him better access.
His kisses grew more passionate, each touch igniting a fire within me.
“I’m not gentle,” he murmured in a low, husky voice.
“Don’t be,” I replied, meeting his intense gaze with a mixture of desire and curiosity.
He reached behind his neck and unclasped the delicate butterfly necklace he was wearing. The piece of jewellery that had caught my eye earlier now dangled in his hand.
Without saying a word, he turned me around, and I lifted my hair to give him better access. He carefully placed the necklace around my neck, the cool metal sending shivers down my spine.
I looked down at the necklace, my fingers gently tracing the butterfly pendant. But when I turned it around, I noticed something unexpected—the word ‘Angelos’ engraved on the back.
Confused and taken aback, I turned to him, whispering, “why are you giving this to me?”
He met my gaze, his eyes holding a mix of emotions. “Because it’s yours,” he said simply.
“But what do you mean it’s mine?” I pressed, trying to unravel the mystery behind the necklace. He shook his head, pulling down his mask as he walked towards the balcony doors. “Answer me!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice, frustration and confusion overwhelming me.
He stopped in his tracks, seeming surprised by my tone.
“I’ve been trying to figure you out for the last two years, but... nothing. You’re like a blank page.”
“Stop trying,” he said.
I wanted to understand him, to break through the walls he had built around himself. But I knew it wouldn’t be easy. There was a depth to him that I couldn’t quite grasp, a past he kept hidden.
Suddenly I hear my phone vibrate, and head towards it.
Mum (7:02pm): Mr Johnsons dead, we’re coming home.
I slowly lift my head, my eyes wide open.
It can’t be.