53

[ARTEMY]
The remainder of the day was dedicated to avoiding any interaction with Rebecca. I secluded myself in my office, trying to escape her presence, and later sought solace in the gym. Frustration fueled my punches as I relentlessly attacked the punching bag.
Leaning against the wall, I gasped for breath, the exertion taking its toll. Brayden, observing my exhausted state, couldn’t resist making a comment. “You’re going to kill us one day,” he remarked with a hint of sarcasm.
Between labored breaths, I managed to respond, my voice strained. “You underestimate my stubbornness. Death won’t come that easily for me.”
Brayden shrugged, acknowledging the truth in my words. Pushing myself away from the wall, I made my way to a nearby bench, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from my face. The question about Milandro and Leon’s return slipped from my lips. “Will they be back tomorrow?”
Avim, positioned near the doorway, replied, his voice carrying across the room. “They’re expected to report in. We have plans to meet Michael tomorrow.”
Curiosity tugged at me, and I inquired further. “Any news regarding the clubs?”
Avim shook his head, his expression conveying a lack of information. “No updates yet. Michael mentioned he would provide us with the details during our meeting.”
Ever since Raffaele took control, he had been determined to seize control of my clubs. So far, his attempts had been unsuccessful, but everyone was taking extra precautions. Michael, one of my most trusted managers, oversaw a network of over ten clubs, brothels, and underground operations.
Late at night, I left the dimly lit gym, acknowledging Avim and Brayden with a nod. Unable to sleep after Rebecca’s piano performance and her retreat to her room, I remained seated, consumed by frustration. Eventually, unable to bear it any longer, I descended the stairs and sought solace in the gym once again.
Returning to the upper floor, I halted in front of my own bedroom. Instead of entering, I turned left and fixated on Rebecca’s door. Despite knowing it was late and she was likely asleep, I couldn’t resist the urge. Taking cautious steps, I bypassed the piano room and stood before her door. With a gentle touch, I twisted the knob and opened it slowly.
The room was enveloped in darkness, save for a small lamp beside her bed, casting a feeble glow. Advancing further into the room, I paused beside Rebecca. She lay on her side, curled up under the covers, her eyes shut and her breathing calm in deep slumber.
The soft illumination highlighted her face, granting her an aura of tranquility. Leaning closer, I lightly brushed my finger against her soft cheek, brushing aside a few strands of hair. She stirred slightly in her sleep, emitting a sleepy murmur, but remained undisturbed.
Relieved, I allowed a small smile to grace my lips as I gazed upon her peaceful form. My eyes traveled from her face to her shoulders and eventually to her chest. There, I noticed she clutched my suit jacket tightly, cradling it against her.
The sight filled me with warmth, confirming the truth I had suspected.
Departing the room, I made my way toward Rebecca’s, intending to check on her. However, my steps faltered when I encountered Susan exiting her room, wearing an offended expression. She appeared surprised at my presence, but swiftly lowered her head in respect before silently passing by.
“What the fuck was that?” I muttered to myself, momentarily halted in my tracks. Eventually, I resumed my journey to Rebecca’s room, but as I approached, I overheard Lynda’s voice from inside.
“Rebecca, why were you holding Artemy’s jacket?”
Her words struck me, causing me to freeze, eyes widening in shock.
What the fuck?
Curiosity getting the better of me, I pressed my ear against the door, praying that no one was wandering the corridor. I awaited a response, but only silence greeted me.
“You don’t have to…” Lynda began.
“I sleep with it.”
“What?” Lynda spluttered, mirroring my own reaction.
“I sleep with it,” Rebecca repeated, causing my heart to skip a beat once more. And then her next words shattered me. My hands clenched into fists against the door, and I closed my eyes.
“It keeps the nightmares away,” she confessed, her voice barely audible, yet it resonated in my ears as if she had whispered it directly to me.
Running a hand over my face, I paced back and forth outside her door, grappling with the weight of this revelation. My eyes widened when I heard Lynda assure Rebecca that she would return soon.
In a rush, I sought refuge in the piano room, shutting the door behind me. Leaning against it, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, uncertain about how to proceed with this newfound knowledge.
Suddenly, when I felt Rebecca stir beneath my touch, I snapped out of my contemplation. One thing became unequivocally clear. If my jacket could ward off Rebecca’s nightmares, that was all that mattered.
With one final stroke of my thumb against her cheek, I stepped away. Rebecca sighed contentedly in her sleep, a faint smile gracing her lips.
“Sweet dreams,” I whispered.
Casting a final glance at her, I turned around and exited her room, gently closing the door behind me.
***
I found myself staring at the bland beige walls, taking in the familiar and cozy atmosphere of Michael’s house. Toys were scattered haphazardly across the carpeted floor, evidence of a child’s playful presence. Lost in my thoughts, I was brought back to reality as Michael leaned back against his sofa and spoke.
“So far, Raffaele hasn’t made any moves against the clubs I oversee,” Michael said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Those places are the hottest spots. If he wanted to make a big impact, they would have been his primary targets.”
Raffaele had some sort of plan, but every lead my men pursued led to a dead end. It seemed that he was always one step ahead, well-informed and prepared for our every move. The identity of the mole leaking information to Raffaele remained elusive, leaving us little time to formulate and execute our plans.
“What’s your next move?” Michael inquired, breaking the silence.
I scoffed at the question. “The real question is, what am I not going to do?”
Michael raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, it’s clear that you have something up your sleeve.”
“Always,” I replied with a hardened tone. “I want you to keep a close eye on all the clubs. Every single one of them. If you can’t handle it alone, I’ll send one of my men to assist you.”
“I can handle it. I’ve been doing this for years, boss,” Michael assured me. “But having an extra set of eyes would definitely help us maintain better surveillance.”
Nodding in agreement, I settled back against the couch. Just then, a little girl burst into the living room, her face beaming with a bright smile. She was dressed in a vibrant purple dress, her short black hair cascading freely around her neck. She paid no mind to her father’s soft reprimand, completely absorbed in her own world.
“Amber,” Michael chided gently. “You’re not supposed to come in here.”
But the little girl ignored her father’s words. At just two years old, her attention fixated on Avim, who stood stoically by my side. Amber approached him and halted right in front of him, her innocent gaze fixed upon him. I noticed Avim’s jaw twitching from the intensity of his teeth-grinding.
His eyes traveled downward to meet the little girl’s gaze, and I saw him swallow hard. Amber raised her tiny arms and uttered a single word, “Up.”
When Avim didn’t move, Amber’s smile faded, and she repeated her request, more demanding this time, “Up. Up.”
Michael rose from his seat, clearly embarrassed. “I apologize, Boss.” He took a step toward Amber, intending to intervene. However, just as he moved, Avim bent down and scooped the girl into his arms, surprising us all.
“What the hell?” Brayden muttered beside me, voicing the astonishment that echoed in my own mind.
Amber giggled happily, greeting Avim with a simple “Hi.”
Avim didn’t respond; instead, he glared at the girl in his arms, his body tense and rigid. But Amber seemed unaffected by his piercing gaze. Instead, her attention shifted to the scars that marked Avim’s face, and her tiny hand reached up to cup his cheek, covering the remnants of his past.
“Damn it,” Michael whispered under his breath, a mix of concern and worry etched on his face. I caught sight of Macy, Michael’s wife, standing in the doorway, her eyes widened in surprise.
But my focus remained locked on Avim and Amber. He remained silent, refusing to answer her question. Undeterred, Amber repeated her query once more, her innocent curiosity prevailing.
Macy acted as the translator, relaying the question, “She is asking if it hurts.”
Avim swallowed hard, his emotions evident, and then shook his head. “No. Not anymore,” he replied.
Macy smiled in response, reassured by his answer, and began squirming in his arms, indicating her desire to be let down. Avim gently placed her on the ground, and she immediately ran toward her mother, who appeared apologetic.
“I’m sorry. I was busy, and she ran off before I could stop her,” she explained.
“It’s okay,” I assured her, rising to my feet with Brayden following suit. Turning to Michael, I said, “I’ll see you next month.”
“Sure, Boss. I’ll keep you updated,” Michael replied.
The unexpected incident had shaken Avim visibly, and truth be told, it had affected me as well. We were almost out the door when something caught my eye. I paused, glancing at the flowers. They differed from the ones Lynda had given Rebecca, but they still reminded me of her.
“Nice flowers,” I remarked with a dry tone, feigning disinterest.
Macy smiled and replied, “Thank you. Michael gave them to me for our anniversary.”
I nodded, deliberately averting my gaze from the flowers, and exited the room, Brayden and Avim following me. During the drive back to the estate, my mind kept returning to those flowers-Rebecca’s smile as she admired them, and Lynda’s words echoing in my thoughts.
Letting out a sigh, I vocalized my contemplations, “Where do you get flowers?”
“What?” Brayden questioned, bewildered.
“Where do you buy flowers?” I repeated.
“Flowers? What the fuck do you want to do with flowers?” Brayden glanced at me through the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road.
“Avim,” I called out, my tone firm.
“Yes, Boss.” Avim nodded and retrieved his phone. I observed him typing something, and after a few minutes, he handed me the phone.
“I’ve already dialed the number,” he informed me.
Bringing the phone to my ear, I waited for someone to answer. “Hello, Starbright Floral Design. How can I help you?” a woman’s voice greeted me.
“I want flowers,” I stated bluntly. Brayden chuckled from the front seat, and I shot a glare at the back of his head.
“Okay?” There was a pause, but she didn’t offer any further response.
“I said, I want flowers.”
“Yes, I heard you, sir. But what type of flowers?”
“Any flowers,” I muttered impatiently.
“Any flowers? But, sir-”
“Just give me the best flowers you have,” I snapped, my frustration mounting.
“Okay. How many?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance, I leaned my head against the backrest. Why was ordering flowers turning out to be such a damn complicated task?
“Twenty, thirty…” I growled into the phone.
“I need an exact number, sir.” The woman’s impatience was evident. That only scratched the surface of what I was feeling.
“Damn it, just give me thirty.”
“Okay. When do you want them delivered?”
“In an hour.”
“An hour? Sir, we can’t do it in an hour-”
“I said, I want them in an hour.”
“Give me just a moment,” her voice echoed faintly in the background before she returned to the call. “Alright, sir. Could you kindly provide me with your address?” I swiftly recited the address and then hung up, tossing the phone onto the seat beside me.
“So, flowers?” Brayden inquired.
“Not now!” I snapped, warning him with a growl before closing my eyes.
As the car jolted to a sudden halt, a van sat outside the gate, bearing the bold inscription of “Starbright Floral Design” on its side.
“Perfect timing,” I commented as the driver emerged from the van, cradling an immense bouquet of pink and white flowers.
Approaching him, I greeted with a nod. “Are you the one who brought the flowers?”
“Yes,” I replied sharply.
“Here you go. You’ll need to sign here,” he said, extending a paper toward me. After signing, he handed over the bouquet. It was truly massive.
I peered down at it in surprise. “Did I actually order this much?”
Brayden cleared his throat beside me. “If I recall correctly, you ordered thirty. Looks like thirty to me.” Glaring at him, I realized I had unintentionally voiced that question aloud.
I gestured obscenely at him and nodded to the guard, signaling for the gates to open.
Whether it was five or thirty, it didn’t matter as long as Rebecca loved them. That was the only thing that truly counted.