Fortune Favors The Bold

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: AFTERMATH

Alaya was mortified of her irresponsible behavior. How could she have reneged control on her libido and allowed herself to be so ruthlessly ravished? It wasn’t only that Adonis Fortune was a very good lover, one who made her forget everything, even the fact that she was staying over as a guest.  

He made her yearn for things which she’d denied herself a long time ago.

Although Aunt Calista had pretended to not understand what had occurred between them the previous night, Alaya was not fooled. The surreptitious glances their way, her reddened cheeks and her lack of appetite was largely contributing to the flagrant truth. Unlike her, Adonis was completely aloof and acted like nothing had happened between them.

In order to lay out any suspicion, Adonis had shifted to his room in the wee hours of the morning after giving her one more orgasm, and she felt her p*ssy pulsate at the reminder.

Four orgasms in one night. Each more violent than the previous ones. And she still craved for his touch. How could she explain that?

Risking a glance towards Adonis across the table, nobody could have guessed his feelings. He was casually buttering his toast and cracking light jokes with his uncle completely ignoring her presence. Something had pissed him last night, and Alaya wished she could work him out.

He bottled up his real feelings so tightly that it was an enigma to decipher that man’s emotions. She was absolutely certain that he’d been as stunned by the intensity of their lovemaking as she had. Then, why was he pretending like he wasn’t affected in the least?

Was he simply fulfilling her wishes about keeping their relationship a secret? Alaya hadn’t imagined that the idea would have repulsed him that much. It almost felt like she had bruised his ego or something. She had suggested to keep the affair stifled because she had assumed it would have been his preference.

For it would look bad to the reporters had they found out that he was sleeping with the detective working on his father’s case. There was no doubt that she had vested interests as well in keeping the whole thing concealed. If Captain Gibbs found out, he would personally remove her from the case.

Alaya winced as the hot coffee scalded her tongue, but it was more because she inwardly acknowledged that she could not care less about losing the case. She was more concerned about no longer possessing her heart.  

Knock it off, Petrov! she reprimanded herself. It was only s*x. Stop acting like a teenager unable to have a healthy roll in the hay.

In that instant, green eyes flickered in her direction and her heart jumped inside her chest making her spill her coffee on her lap. She reacted instantly to the hot beverage by standing up as her skin felt scorched somewhere, but there was no explaining the burning feeling of her heart.

“Oh dear!” Aunt Calista cried out in horror. “Are you okay?”

She mumbled something incoherent, dropping the napkin on the table before asking for the bathroom. Aunt Calista insisted on accompanying despite Alaya’s persuading the old lady that she would be fine. But the Greek woman was assertive, and Alaya had to accept her help.

Casting one glance in Adonis’s direction, Alaya’s heart flipflopped inside her chest once again when she caught the intensity of his gaze on her. The green orbs seemed to devour her, reading her every feeling like she was an open book. Alaya hated the fact that she felt like a teenager in front if him. That had to stop.

With a sigh, she followed Aunt Calista inside the house which led to the common bathroom they’d both used that very morning. She’d been tempted to share the shower with him but had chickened out at the last minute. She wasn’t bold enough in that department.

Give her a gun and she could topple a mafia’s organization without hesitation. But somehow matters of heart failed her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” a concerned female voice sounded making Alaya jump out of her reverie.

Alaya turned around and crashed with a worried frown, and she berated herself for not paying enough attention to Aunt Calista. Adonis’s aunt was a shrewd woman who was putting two and two together and coming up with five pretty quickly.

“You look a bit wan, darling,” she clarified when Alaya stared back at her without a word.

“Ohhh,” she recovered from the shock, slapping herself mentally to get out of that trance. Anyone would think that she was completely disoriented by a man. Which was very true, but she should get a grip on herself. “Yes, yes. I’m fine,” she reassured lightly, even flashing a smile for the lady’s benefit. Within no time, she would become an expert at pretending as well.

Turning to the basin, she splashed some water on her face to cool herself down, before rubbing the spot which had stained her clothes. When she lifted her skirt, there was a small spot on her thigh which looked reddened, but it felt more like a sting than anything else.

“See, no harm done,” she indicated the reddened skin on the side of her thigh. “Just a little scratch.”

“Humph,” the old woman harumphed disapprovingly, staring back sternly at Alaya with a knowing look. “I doubt that.”

Alaya let the garment fall back into place as she comprehended the double meaning, but she concealed her expression smoothly. “I should get back to the breakfast table. It’s going to be ten soon and I have to be somewhere else.”

As she turned to move away from the woman, a gentle hand stopped her. “Listen. I know it’s not my place to say anything. But I’ll say it anyway. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone before.”

Alaya sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. How to repel a hopeless aunt’s wishful thinking? That woman was so desperate to see Adonis settled that she would read a love story if Adonis brought a dead woman over. Truth was he hadn’t intended things to escalate to such level, it had only been sheer coincidence. This morning was proof enough for he acted like he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

“Adonis is very complicated,” Aunt Calista continued, unaware of Alaya’s thoughts. “He will never let his feelings show, courtesy of his turbulent childhood. Look, he will not appreciate me telling you things like this, but his father was a control freak.”

Alaya frowned at the revelation, not sure whether she should listen more. But her detective sense pricked up instantly. If she got a notion of Mason Fortune character before his death, maybe that would give her another lead.

“Control freak?” she probed using a light tone, although her gut instincts was telling her that there was something to explore. “In what way?”

Aunt Calista sighed resignedly, unaware of Alaya’s intentions. The poor romantic soul was under the disillusion that Alaya was curious about Adonis’s upbringing, and a detective knew better than to sidetrack her source of information.

“Apollo Mason Fortune was a spoilt child who would get everything he coveted. Even when we were small, everything had to be his way, He was the one to decide which games we would play, which clothes we wore. At some point, it stopped being fun as we grew into our own selves. We were a bunch of cousins, you see. Apollo, errrm Mason took our wish for independence very badly.”

Like their family history wasn’t twisted enough, Aunt Calista was taking it upon her to relate her childhood memories with her. Alaya resisted the urge to run away from it all, her orthodox Russian upbringing the only thing keeping her polite smile on her face.

“Let’s say that Elijah was the one to pay the price of Ap... Mason’s obsession for perfection. Well, what Mason believed to be flawless anyway.” She grimaced guiltily. “I am not defaming the dead, but it was horrible. After Elijah left, we thought that Mason would reform. But he shifted his sycophantic tendencies to his own son.”

Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Alaya wasn’t aware of her fists being clenched into tight fists until her nails dug into her flesh causing her pain. Silence was the only method to make the woman go on.

“Mason decided everything for Adonis. Everything. He orchestrated his son’s life from A to Z, and I am not exaggerating. Adonis never said anything to him. Never. Sometimes, I think I am the only one who knows what it cost Adonis.”

“You must be wondering why I’m telling you all this,” Aunt Calista said with a dry laugh, and Alaya opened her mouth to disagree. But the woman squeezed her hand before she could reply. “I just want you to know that Adonis is used to fulfilling his father’s wishes to the point of burying his own desires so deep that they never resurface.”

“He’s dead now,” Alaya managed to butt in when the woman stopped for breath.

“Is he?” she asked bitterly. “I feel that even dead, that bastard is still able to control Adonis’s life. Look how he’s making everyone run after his own murderer. If I had my say in that matter, I would bet my life that Apollo had it all planned.”

“Alaya?” a male voice called out from the other side of the bathroom, and she once again closed her mouth as she was on the verge of asking a question. There was no denying that she was shocked by the statement. It was a possibility that she hadn’t thought of before.

“Alaya?” Adonis insisted outside the door. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she replied automatically, sharing a stunned look with the woman after her confession. Was that the truth? Could it be possible that Mason Fortune whom the woman called Apollo had orchestrated his own murder? Was the idea too far-fetched to consider? “I’m fine,” she replied absentmindedly as her brain reeked with the novelty options.

“Are you going to take long? I need to go back soon,” he informed in a stoic voice, and Alaya glanced at the woman apologetically. That was her cue, but nothing prevented her from coming back in the guise of a police officer to continue that interesting conversation.

“I need to go,” she whispered to Aunt Calista, returning her squeeze conspiratorially. “I will come back, and we can have a nice little chat,” she promised, and stopped abruptly when the door opened to the face of the man who’d shared her bed the previous night.

Standing in a casual posture, Adonis looked nothing like the passionate man who’d loved her in bed the previous night. Instead stood a dispassionate businessman who was impatient to leave.

“Ready?” he asked without preamble, casting a very obvious glance to his watch, and Alaya turned to the other woman regretfully.

“I think that’s my cue,” she stated sarcastically. “I would like to thank you for your hospitality. I will never forget the Greek food,” she winked at the woman to diffuse the heavy atmosphere. “Efcharistó, Theia Calista. Thank you for everything,” she squeezed the woman’s hands once again before facing the brooding oar hovering over her like a dark cloud.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”