Page 32 of Obsessed with Her

Now my mentor and I are staring at each other, and she doesn't look happy.

"If you don't tell Ares, I'll tell him myself," she says, sounding angry.

I know she was the one who told him because she told me.

I sigh and nod at the phone. “He's coming,” I say.

"Serenity, you know that what's happening isn't your fault, right? Don't be fooled into thinking you did something to attract this crazy person's attention."

I nod, because I can't imagine a single reason why someone would want to hurt me. "How could he have put the scorpion in my bag without me noticing, Debra?"

She doesn't have a chance to respond. Before I can blink, the door opens and my god of war, more beautiful than I remember, hovers in the doorway. I can see two men behind him, but I only know they are men by their height and suits. There's no way I can pay attention to another human being with Ares Kostanidis standing only a few feet away from me.

I cannot speak. I just stare at him. I’ve often thought about what our reunion would be like when I finally arrived in NewYork, but nothing prepared me for the crazy race that my heart is running right now.

It's like I was numb for the last two years and now I’ve finally woken up.

It's as if fresh air fills my lungs and my pulse has found its perfect rhythm.

I’ve spent months thinking about why my body reacted to him the way it did on the one night we were together. I fooled myself by saying it was because I had never before been around someone so handsome or powerful, but now, when the avalanche of emotions hits me with the same intensity, I am sure that whenever I am around him, it will be like this.

Two years have passed. I’ve traveled, met other people—boys included, despite my false commitment to Otis. No one has ever made me feel this way. Not even close.

He wears a black suit and white dress shirt, no tie. Now I’m a little older, I notice details that previously went unnoticed, like the way his dress shirt stretches against his chest, outlining the muscles. Or how his pants emphasize his narrow hips and muscular thighs.

His hair is disheveled, and his chin is unshaven, which makes him even sexier.

“I want everyone out,” he says suddenly, still looking at me. His voice sounds like thunder. He takes a step inside, and his large body seems to fill the entire room.

"Ares," one of the men accompanying him says in a warning tone, entering the room.

No one needs to introduce them to me for me to know they are his brothers. The eyes of all three are identical. Not the color specifically, but the shape . . . maybe the way of looking at people too.

There is not a drop of softness in them.

The speaker has shoulder-length hair, a beard, and square-framed glasses. The second man accompanying Ares, also very handsome, says nothing. He doesn't try to calm his brother; on the contrary, he stares at me, looking as annoyed as my guardian.

"I'm Debra Villatoro." My mentor is not intimidated and reaches out to him.

For a few seconds, Ares looks away from me and stares at her, as if deciding whether she deserves an answer or not.

He's really screwed if he ignores her. Debra doesn't bend for anyone.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Villatoro," he says, although there's no pleasure in the way he speaks.

Another thing that catches my attention is that Ares knows that she is a Mrs., not a Miss. Few people are aware of the fact that she was once married.

Why does this surprise me? Even from a distance, he has demonstrated several times that he controls every step I take. It's natural that he would know about the people around me too.

"Mr. Kostanidis, I don't think it's a good idea—" Debra begins.

"I'm really not worried about what you think. I appreciate you reaching out, but Serenity is my responsibility."

I stop myself from giving him a rude answer, because I wonder why he's so furious.

The police left here a few minutes ago, after taking my statement. Debra may have called him to tell him that I was stung by a scorpion, but I'm sure that the person who told him that I needed to give a statement, and much worse, the content of my conversation with the detectives, were the bodyguards.

She opens her mouth to retort, but I interrupt her. "You can leave us alone, Debra. I'll be fine." She is part of my life, but forthe next five years, at least, Ares will be too. It makes no sense to encourage a war between the two.

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