Darya sat at the island in Ares’ kitchen overthinking. She knew she was but she couldn’t help herself. Guilt at letting Kostas give her pleasure the night before while Magda was out there, God-knows-where, and maybe hurt, scared and vulnerable was playing with her head. She had walked for thirty minutes on a treadmill in Ares home gym while Kostas lifted dizzying sizes of weights and when Miklos had come in and the two men had decided to grapple and spar in a mix of various martial arts she had to leave. Her libido was out of control and when she had come to the kitchen and found Ares coming from his office looking as if he hadn’t slept at all, the guilt wracked her. She shouldn’t be chasing a p***s when her friend was missing, especially one connected to a man she had sworn she despised.
