Chapter 37: 26| Roulette-1

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Roulette ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ Chapter 26: Roulette (Amara's POV) After the shambles last night's conversation with Tristan left me in, I barely managed to get some sleep. I couldn't understand him at all and whatever part of me thought I could, was proven wrong. Tristan, his intentions and motives, his plan, it was all a mystery to me. He would say one thing but his actions would contradict them and it left me all the more puzzled. Can I trust him? Will he truly save me if I ever need him to? Will he really kill me eventually? So many questions and not a glimmer of an answer in sight. When I woke up the next morning, I was hoping it would be before Tristan, that way I could leave the penthouse without running into him. I almost got away with it because once I freshened up and went downstairs, the place was completely silent and Tristan was nowhere in sight. Just as I headed toward the front door, the lock beeped and granted the visitor access. Technically, I'm the visitor here though. I cringed and spun around, heading into the kitchen in hopes of avoiding him but before I could take a single step forward, the door opened and he walked in. A low breath escaped me as I turned to face him, growing utterly still as our gazes met. "Leaving so soon, Malyshka?" he asked, tugging the earphones out as he caught his breath while pocketing them. I couldn't help the way my gaze traveled across his body. It wasn't a choice, believe me. My eyes scanned him over from head to toe, taking it all in. From the way his hair was damp with water dripping down from each strand, from the way sweat trickled down his temples, to the sides of his face and running down his neck, disappearing behind his shirt. From the way his simple black v-neck clung to his body, leaving very little to my imagination as it emphasized each cut and carved out each muscle, defining everything from his broad shoulders and chest to every one of his abs. The short sleeves hugged his biceps that flexed with his movements as he reached up to run a hand through his hair. And of course, those gray sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, giving me a glimpse of the sharp v-line hiding beneath them as his shirt hiked up his waist. Focus, Amara. Blinking, I cleared my throat and forced myself to meet his eyes. A beat of silence passed through us as we simply stared at each other and somehow, within a moment, realization dawned on him and amusement glittered in his gaze. He stepped forward and started to say something but if I stayed here a moment longer, I would lose my sanity and all my self-control. "Don't," I said sharply, "don't say a word." Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he held them up in surrender. "I won't. As long as you answer my question." "What?" I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "I have work to do," I replied quickly, my demeanor growing defensive despite having nothing to hide or lie about. His gaze slightly narrowed on me as he took a few steps forward, slowly. "It's Sunday," he pointed out. Forcing my feet to remain rooted on the floor, I stood my ground as he came closer until there were mere inches in between us. "Not at the office," I said, "I have my own work to do, Mr. Harper." Tristan stared at me for a moment before nodding lightly. "The case you're so recklessly ready to sacrifice yourself for?" I ground my teeth. "I'm not being reckless. I know what I'm doing and you don't. This doesn't involve you and I'd like to keep things that way." He paused for a beat. "Ms. Milano-" "This is for me," I cut him off sharply. "If you mean it when you say that you can't stand by and watch me put myself at risk then stay out of it. Things will only get worse if you get wrapped up in this. This is my mess, Mr. Harper." "You don't always have to do everything alone, Amara," he said. "What else am I supposed to do? Ask you for help? As if you'd help me," I scoffed softly before sighing and letting my arms drop to my sides. "You're underestimating me," I said. "I'm not," he argued sternly, his gaze hardening. "I'm making sure you stay alive. I won't stand here and explain what I already did last night. You don't want to be saved, I understand and respect that. But I won't let you get yourself killed while solving something that's not worth it." Anger flared up inside me. Tristan knew nothing about the Ricci case or what it meant to me and why I was solving it yet somehow thought he was in the authoritative position to determine whether it was worth it or not. "It's worth it to me," I snapped. "I disagree," he replied calmly, "nothing's worth more than your life in this world. Not to you but to me. Don't fool yourself into thinking this is work. What you're going to do is personal and that's why I won't stop you. Go ahead. Leave. But don't hesitate if you need me." I watched him carefully, trying to determine if there were any ulterior motives behind the temporary peace offering he was extending to me. "I meant what I said last night, Ms. Milano. No matter how much we both despise it." With one final lingering gaze, he brushed past me and went upstairs, disappearing out of sight. My chest caved in as I exhaled and stared ahead, taking a minute to get a grip of myself before I walked out of his apartment and went downstairs, getting on my bike and driving home. Closing the front door behind me, I headed straight to my room for a shower. Stripping all my clothes off and tossing them into the hamper, I let my hair down from the bun it was in and flipped the shower on, letting the warm water run down my body, soaking me. I had to focus, I didn't have any other choice. This wasn't the right time to let Tristan in and fuck with my head. He loved to play mind games and he excelled at them. Competing with Tristan and playing his games often took up all my attention and energy. When I was focusing on him there was nothing else in this world I could possibly focus on; when Tristan stole my attention, he owned all of it. Right now, my job and my duties demanded it more. Once I got out of the shower, I threw on a white satin slip dress and left my damp here down to dry while I grabbed my laptop and stack of files, heading down to the kitchen. While eating breakfast, I worked on the case side-by-side, reviewing the same goddamn material I had been for the past few weeks, going over every detail repeatedly. A soft groan escaped me as I twirled the red pen between my fingers, circling the same names scattered across various newspaper articles. Grabbing my notepad, I read through all the connections I made so far, the tip of my pen tracing every line that connected the incomprehensible mind map I drew, drawing links among the people of interest mentioned so far.