eighteen

18

Trust

"Sonny, go fetch me a bottle of Cuervo will 'ya?" Damocles orders. Salvatore (also known as Sonny), one of the training soldiers went out the door.

He spun in his swivel chair and faced me. Clearing his throat as he placed his hands in front of him. "Cousin of mine, what can I do for you?"

"It concerns your friend..." I throw a file at him. "We've been dating, I need you to find something for me."

A quizzical look paints his face as he picks up the folder. Glancing at me while he unfolds it. His brows furrow. "You're dating... Stavros?"

"You wouldn't approve of u—"

He slammed his hands down on the desk. "Damn right I won't! You don't know what you're getting into!"

"What," I raise a brow. "You're gonna lecture me now, is that it? Please." I scoff.

"You want me to look into his system. Do you want me killed Vernamina?" He shakes his head, sinking in further into his chair. Even with little effort to persuade him into helping me, I already got my answer shown in bright bold letters across his forehead. 'I do not approve and I will definitely not help.'

Salvatore returns with a tray. A bottle of Jose Cuervo and a glass filled with ice on top. Damocles runs a hand across his face before chugging the bottle.

Yesterday, Stavros refused to answer me. We sat in uncomfortable silence. I fidget with my thumbs, occassionally glancing at the man. His jaw clenched the whole ride. I hopped out of the car, anticipating for a kiss of farewell or just a quick peck on the cheek; I only received disappointment in turn of my high expectations.

"He's not gonna kill you—"

"You wouldn't know that!" he cuts me off.

I didn't know anything! That's why I went here to seek help from my cousin. Yet, I seem to be disappointed everytime. Trust your spouse they say, but how can I trust one when he's given me nothing but silence? The wind constantly whispered Feyre's words to my ears. It added more to my reasons of leeriness.

I left Damocles' office with a scowl on my face. Where would I find my answers? Should I turn to Zahir?

"I can't do irrational work, Vena." He puffed out smoke. Discarding his cigarette's ashes in the tray. "Stavros Koenig's system is invulnerable. His soldiers would comb the streets the minute they find out. It's not safe."

"You said you were able to follow him, though."

He rose from his chair, dropping the cigarette on the ground. Putting out the light with his foot. "That, I could do. But you're asking me to hack into his system to find out his history. My capabilities are limited, Vena. I can only do so much."

"Then," I squeeze my eyes shut. "Follow him. Do whatever you can, I just need answers."

I came to view with Zahir's jawline, his arms reached out to fumble with the files in his shelves. I bit my fingernails, a habit I've grown accustomed to throughout my years. "Here," he hands me a brown envelope. "I can't have one of my soldiers work on this, this is an old friend. He does the services you seek, he can hack into his system. I would offer to do it myself, Vena. But, you know that I can't put my name at risk. I'm really sorry, this is all I can d—"

Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him. Chanting the words, "Thank you" and "I love you" over and over again. Determination sparked within me, I went on to contact this man.

The transaction went on smooth, he didn't tell me his name. "I prefer to be anonymous, Ms. Dimitrious. I'll have the information on Miss Feyre and Mister Koenig sent to your door tomorrow, have a good day."

"Have a—" he hung up.

I plop down on my bed. This day had been tiring. The coolness emitted from sheets felt good on my skin. Miss Cloira came in earlier to give me my dinner.

Have I gone insane? Obssesive? I just wanted to know. Sure, I may have gone to extreme measures but... something just feels so off. Stavros hadn't called me the entire day, only a simple 'good morning' message. That was it.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. The hell was that?

I sat up, scanning my eyes for the culprit. I turn to my nightstand to check the time. Seven thirty, in bright bold lights. Who could've been snooping around at this time? I stood up from my bed. Tiptoeing to my balcony doors. My door knob jiggles, I step away. Taking out the baseball underneath my bed, I position myself on the wall beside the door. It creaks open, I swung my bat forward.

"Fuck!" A male voice groans. I drop my bat like fire that burnt me. "Oh my, are you okay?!"

The corners of his mouth slip upwards, "Oh yes, of course. I'm definitely alright after being hit with a baseball bat." Stavros deadpans.

"Why are you here?" I ask while helping him up. "You haven't called me all day and now... now you're here. Why?"

He pats himself off. "You don't want me here?" I shook my head.

Stavros' forest green orbs roamed around my room, as if this had been his first time in here. He prowls about. My heart rate paces, something in the way he clicks his tongue and rubbing his hands together screamed danger. He huffed out a breath, I unconsciously breathe again. I've not even been aware that I held my breath.

He knew, didn't he? I knew Stavros Koenig, nothing gets pass him. The walls had ears. He heard. I stood tall, erasing any sign of guilt.

"Greek men were in front of my warehouse the entire day," His dark gaze met mine. My confident facade falters. "You think I wouldn't know, Elixir?" His jaw clenched.

I lick my lips, not uttering out a word. Like the calm before the storm. In his eyes, reflected his disappointment and disbelief. "You don't trust me?"

No. I solicited to say. No, I don't. Because you keep giving me reasons not to. He never gave me an outline on what to expect in this relationship with him. I don't expect him to tell me everything, yes. But, I deserve to know. Instead, I'm given with countless thoughts. Irrelevant questions that cause doubt in myself and him, as well.

What a healthy relationship.

"You don't." He said as his brows furrow. "Why, you think I'm off to no good? Do I not give you as much attention and affection, is that it?"

"I don't know what to trust, Stav." The words came out as a susurration. An air of coldness swayed with us, "You never gave me any reason not to doubt." My heart raced.