Chapter 91: Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-One

First thing this morning I made a call to Athena. After what Marios said at the restaurant last night, I tossed and turned most of the night, worrying about what she must be thinking. Thankfully, Dimitris had informed her that I was busy on assignment, so she knew I hadn’t abandoned her. Instead, the sweet thing was worried about me. Hearing the relief in her voice touched me deeply, but at the same time had me itching to inflict pain on someone.

Athena may have grown up in the mafia, surrounded by killers, but she is one of the purest souls among us. Her parents did all they could to protect her innocence, and in a way, she hasn't lost it, to which I'm glad. She still refuses to leave her room, but she’s been more open to small talks with her parents, so I’m happy to hear she’s making some progress. Any step forward, no matter how small, is a success in my book. I’ve promised to see her when this Sathariel business is dealt with and while she was sad, she understood.

Silas and I still have no new leads, and I think his contact in Interpol is a breath away from demanding Silas lose their number. We haven’t given up, of course. I have suggested reaching out to Ulrich again, to which Silas threatened to stain my ass red if I even thought about it. I’m considering doing it anyway just to force him to go through with his threat. It sounds like a fun time.

I place the phone back on the receiver and make my way to the kitchen to get something to eat. As I step into the living room, I pause in my tracks observing Silas in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, his deep olive skin glistening with sweat as he does push-ups on my living room floor. I lean against the arm of the sofa, my eyes fixed on his bulging biceps and triceps and the flexing of his trapezius as he presses his body into the carpet and then pushes back up with a tantalising groan that makes my insides clench as carnal memories of him thrusting his dick inside me play over in my mind.

I take a step, thinking about how much I want to make him sweat further when I hear my landline ringing. I sigh at the universe’s ill-timed interruption, make my way back into the bedroom and answer the phone.

“Geiá?”

“Kaliméra, Dasha.”

I instantly regret answering the phone.

“What can I do for you, Castor?” I say with a level tone.

“I’ve known you a long time, Dasha, and you’ve never addressed me so formally,” he says, hurt evident in his voice.

“I’ve known you a long time, and until last night I’ve never seen you threaten to kill one of my dates or humiliate me in a public setting. So, I guess there’s a first time for everything. Now, what can I do for you?”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I need to see you. It’s important that we talk, but not over the phone. I would appreciate it if you came to see me. I understand you’re upset over my actions last night, and I apologise, but we really need to talk,” he implores.

See, this is one of the reasons I’ve never been interested in Castor beyond the physical. For someone who can kill and brutalise people in the most spectacular ways, he’s incredibly needy. Put a gun in his hand or get his dick hard, and either way, he’s going to make you scream, but outside of those two situations, he’s as needy and clingy as a puppy. I’m not here to tell you that’s a bad quality for a man to have, there are definitely women out there who want that in a man, but I’m not one of them.

That being said, Castor is still a long-time friend and at the very least, he deserves to be heard. But I swear, if this turns into some declaration of love, I might just have to kill him to spare myself the headache.

“Fine. Where are you?”

“I’m at my apartment.”

“I’ll come over now. I just have to get dressed and then I should be there in about twenty minutes.”

“I will see you soon then. Thank you, Dasha,” he says with gentle sincerity.

I hang up. He’s asking me to drop by, not give him a kidney, it’s not that deep.

I go into my closet and look at my options. Not wanting to risk him looking at my attire and getting the wrong idea for why I’m going there, I change into a loose, white crop top, mid-length denim skirt, over-sized denim jacket and my favourite cowboy boots. I look exceptionally average. As unassuming as all the other people in the world. I still rock it though.

I step out of my room and notice Silas no longer working out in the living room, but I can hear sounds from the kitchen.

“I’m just going out for a bit! Should be back in an hour or so!” I call out.

I don’t wait for a reply. I walk to the door, grab my bag and keys, and make my way down to my car, and drive to Castor’s. It only takes me seventeen minutes to get to Castor’s place, and I’m grateful he requested to meet here. All of my father’s security live on his estate. Since Castor and Ajax are heads of my father’s security and have been with him the longest, they have rooms at my parent’s house. The rest of my father’s guards reside in a luxury bungalow at the back of the grounds with state-of-the-art security. Castor and Ajax also have their own private residence should they ever want to get away, enjoy their day off or entertain a special friend. Since I’m still determined to keep our affair a secret, I appreciate him wanting to meet here and not at my parent’s house.

I park in front of the small apartment building and make my way up to Castor’s apartment. I give two strong knocks on the door and wait patiently. A moment passes before Castor opens the door, revealing his rather unkempt state. He’s standing there, slacks undone, buttoned shirt hanging open exposing tanned, rippling abs and several scars, while his thick, black hair is pointing in every direction as though he spent all night fisting it – or someone did it for him. He looks at me through bloodshot eyes as he takes a swig of amber liquid from his crystal tumbler, a drop trickling from the side of his mouth and vanishing into the stubble of his beard. He looks tortured, in a sexy kind of way.

I let myself in, noting the smell of cigar smoke filling the darkly shrouded luxury apartment. It’s a smell I would recognise anywhere, Cuban Davidoff Dom Perignons, currently my father’s favourite cigar. A love and appreciation he passed on to Castor.

“You wanted to see me, so here I am.” I turn to face him as he shuts the door, taking another swig from his tumbler and setting it on a nearby surface.

“You look beautiful,” he says in a low, wistful voice as he stalks towards me.

“Tell me you didn’t get me to come over here just for you to tell me that,” I say in irritation.

He stops in front of me, his hazel eyes hardening as he stares me down. “What is going on between you and that guy?” he asks harshly.

If I were a snake I’d be hissing right now.

“That better be a fucking joke,” I snap sardonically.

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Dasha? That was the guy who shot and tried to kill you in Russia, and you were having fucking dinner with him? Are you insane?” The inflection in his voice is dripping with disgust.

“I’ll tell you again what I told you last night, who I have dinner with is none of your fucking business!” My tone is cutting and unapologetic. I did not come all this way for a lecture.

“He is using you,” he says pointedly, running his fingers through his mess of hair.

I roll my eyes in exasperation, “A few words during a five-minute altercation and suddenly you’re an expert on the inner workings of his mind. We are using each other, Castor. I don’t trust him any more than he trusts me. We both have a common enemy and are working together to handle the situation, a situation that doesn’t require input from you.”

“You can’t trust him,” he says in warning.

“Do you have ash in your ears? What the fuck did I just say?” I huff, slapping my hands at my sides.

“Are you fucking him?” he asks, his voice taking an almost sinister edge.

“So, that’s what this is about? You don’t care about the fact he shot me, you’re just pissed I’m fucking him and not you,” I say flippantly.

His eyes narrow. “So you are fucking him.”

“Whether I am or not has got nothing to do with you. I’m not your fucking property, Castor!”

I start to push past him when his hand grasps my upper arm, his fingers gripping me tight enough to ensure he’s left his mark on my skin. “Don’t you walk away from me, bitch!”

In a flash, I grip my left upper arm with my right hand, then grab his forearm with my left hand, interlocking his arm between mine and twist, forcing his arm to rotate in an unnatural angle, his body buckling forward to avoid dislocation.

“I’m going to say this one time, and you better fucking listen. If you ever try a stunt like that again I am going to put a bullet in both your kneecaps, do you understand me? Whatever idea you have in your head, get rid of it now. I’m not your girlfriend and I sure as hell am not your property. If you touch me like that again or interfere in my life, I will make you regret it, do I make myself clear?” I spit icily.

He looks back at me, anger and humiliation overshadowing a glimmer of hurt in his eyes, but he says nothing, so I add more pressure to his arm and watch his face scrunch up in pain.

“You’ve made your fucking point!”

I release his arm, push him away in disgust and start making my way to the door.

“So, that’s it? The past two years meant nothing to you? Twenty-three years I’ve known you and you choose him over me?!” he shouts, the vitriol lacing his every word.

“I choose me over you!” I shout back, turning to face him, my fury burning like the heat of a thousand suns. “You knew from the beginning I wasn’t in love with you. I stressed that time and time again, but you kept coming back for more. I laid down my rules and you agreed to them. What the fuck were you expecting?!”

“That you would realise how perfect we are for each other! That you would see how much I love you, what I would do for you, and finally open your eyes!” He storms over, grabbing my face in his hands and looking at me with possessed eyes. “He won’t ever know you like I do, Dasha, no one will.” His lips launch at me, fuelling my rage as I clench my fist tightly and smash it into his face, feeling his nose crunch under my knuckles. I watch him stumble back, clutching his nose and crying out from the pain.

My chest heaves, my body trembling, now incandescent with rage as I look back at the man I no longer recognise. As I watch the blood seeping through his fingers, a wave of regret courses through me. I never should have made a move on Castor. I never should have let things get this far when I knew he was developing feelings. I may have never led him on, but I never stopped it from happening either. I cared more about having fun and satisfying some sexual craving, and now look where it’s gotten me. I’m twenty-three, making the mistakes of a sixteen-year-old.

“You think because you watched me grow up that you know me so fucking well? Yet all you’re proving is that you don’t know me at all. You’re a forty-eight-year-old man who has become unhinged because you seem to think that helping to raise me gives you some kind of fucking claim over me. I am not in love with you, Castor, and I never will be. All I feel is sorry for you. I’ve tried to let you down easy, I have tried to get it into your thick skull that there was nothing between us but sex, but you refuse to accept it, so let me be completely transparent. I. Don’t. Want. You. We are done. Around my parents, I will act civil, but those interactions will be the only interactions we ever have. You will stay out of my business and out of my life or I swear to fucking God, you take another step towards me, and I will kill you.”

I turn my back on him, walking towards the door as he begins to shout behind me.

“You’ll come crawling back! We both know it! You’ll realise that trash is just using you and you’ll come crawling back on your hands and knees, and I’ll be waiting right here. Just you wait and see!”

I walk out, shutting the door behind me as he continues to scream like an escaped mental patient. I make my way to the car, get in and start driving, my fists clutching the steering wheel so hard I feel like it’s about to snap under my palms.