I grit my teeth, shaking my head, as I look out at the dark night. “Your father tried to proposition me,” I say without looking at him. “Asked me to be his arm candy. Give him another child. Said he’d make me very comfortable in exchange.”
“Shit,” Ares growls, his hand going to the handle of the door, every muscle in his body coiling.
My hand flies out, laying it on Ares’ arm. “Don’t,” I say firmly. “It was slimy, but I took care of it.”
Ares’ dark eyes slide back over to meet mine. “Took care of it. You’re capable, Lana, but Augustus is?—”
“Vampire men have the same weak spot as human men,” I cut him off, a smirk curling my lips.
“You…” Ares struggles for words. “Damn.” A chuckle rumbles in his chest, and in the dark, his teeth glow white as snow as the second smile I’ve ever seen takes over his face. “I couldn’t have dreamed you up more perfect if I tried, Vengeance.”
Chapter 10
“I’m meeting with my father again this afternoon,” Ares says as we walk to the doors of a beautiful, modern building. I take it all in, making sure to pay attention to its location, what the lobby is like, what button he presses. Floor 39. “I’ll be getting access to his files again. I’ll start digging as soon as I get any kind of privacy with them.”
We step into the elevator once it opens, followed by five others. “What do you think happened to Ophelia?” I ask, despite the crowd surrounding us. Everyone is holding their own conversation or has their necks bent down to stare at their phones.
Ares shakes his head. “Those parties are all about food and chasing the numb bliss,” he says, speaking in light code for the sake of any listening ears. “And there’s always a back door. I watched at that party you were at, and there were three people who went with the bouncers through that door and didn’t come back out. I was planning to go check out what was behind that door, but you put a twist on the night.”
Dammit. Maybe if I’d shown up later that night, Ares would have gotten his chance to go see what happened beyond that door.
“Do you think she’s…” I trail off, unable to vocalize the word. Words matter, and I won’t speak those ones aloud.
Ares’ hand slips into mine. I look over to see him staring at me. “I hope not. Augustus might get away with a lot of shit, but bodies are inconvenient.”
He speaks low, low enough I don’t think anyone else can hear his words.
I swallow once and nod. But I’m not sure if my imagination thinks the alternatives are any better. When pretty, young women go missing, there is almost always a sad, terrible story attached.
The elevator dings and half the crowd gets off, two more people replacing them. We make two more stops before, finally, the doors open on floor 39.
It’s all sleek and modern. There is a sign on the wall displaying business names and numbers. Hunt Enterprises is listed as 3903. Ares steps forward, my hand still clasped in his, and hooks to the right. He pushes a door open, and there, just inside, is a woman with salt and pepper hair. But she doesn’t look old, just prematurely gray. She wears a smart button-up shirt, and she looks up from her paperwork when we walk in.
“Lana, this is Pat,” Ares introduces. “She runs the office, keeps us all on our toes. Pat, this is my fiancée, Lana.”
“Fiancée?” she asks with a doubtful raised eyebrow.
“As of eight days ago,” I say, flashing a proud smile. I hold up my left hand, displaying the massive rock on my finger for show.
Pat looks from me to Ares, not buying it.
“Haven’t you wondered why you’ve hardly seen me the last few weeks?” Ares says simply, and he turns and walks farther into the office.
“Down that way is our accountant, Tom Dee,” Ares says, waving a hand down the hall. “And our property manager, Lydia. Our attorney Nadia works from home part-time, I don’t think she’s in today.”
Weird. Ares has this whole team of people who work for him. It’s a constantly moving, huge operation. Yet I’ve hardly seen the evidence of any of it outside the office.
Some are good at separating their work and home life. Guess Ares is an expert.
Straight back, Ares aims us toward a door. Sitting in a chair just outside of it is a man. He stands the moment we walk up.
“Mr. Hunt,” he says, extending a hand. “I’m excited to get started today.”
“Just Ares,” my fake fiancé says as he shakes the man’s hand. Ares pushes the door open, revealing an office that couldn’t be more different from his father’s. It’s all modern and crisp. And there’s almost nothing personal in it. Very few books. No stacks of stuff. Except there on his desk. One framed photo of me.
Damn. I blush hard.
I don’t even know when he took it. Or when he had time to frame it and bring it here. I feel like we’ve been together almost nonstop.
