Voyage of Discovery

The ticking noise of the clock filled the absence of sound in the room. As I was lying flat on a large and cozy bed facing downward, I slowly pulled my lids up, trying to adjust my vision in the low light. Feeling my naked body under the warm blanket, I sensed a certain presence beside me, unmoving yet breathing so calmly. Proud, I rendered a melodious whistle in my mind.

Look at what I found!

I scanned Marvel with my vision; his appearance was pretty much the same as the last time I saw him; a verification about everything that happened last night was not a dream, even though I just woke up from my shallow sleep.

He was still sleeping, and how defenseless I thought he was. How could he sleep so soundly next to someone he barely knew? If I happened to be an enemy assassin who planned to kill him, he would have stopped breathing now...

Still, seeing myself doubting this much meant I was utterly skeptical about my situation. Before, I was thinking of a way to get closer to his territory, since Gilbert chose the farthest place from Marvel's bedroom for mine. But, today I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was Marvel himself, on the same bed, under the same blanket, less than a foot away from me.

Recalling our first night together, I thought the first thing I learned about Marvel was his touch, but I noticed that his ring was.

He was wearing a black ring on the pinky finger of his right hand, never even once taking it off. It was a hereditary ring of the Yerevan Family. Despite knowing that the diamond ring was very expensive, I believed it must have been the most important thing for him as a leader.

The ring itself was made from thousands of crushed diamond crystals that were designed and built into new solid material. Diamond, though, as the strongest substance in the world, was extremely durable, and would never fade and change color.

The black diamond didn't sparkle, instead, absorbing light than reflecting it. The "Yerevan" in capital letters was engraved on the inner part as an absolute reminder.

The meaning of the black diamond was transcendence. It was symbolized power and authority, also charisma. And pinky finger represented loyalty in the Mafia circle.

From my investigation, I found out that to become a full member of the Yerevan Family, a novice must take part in an initiation ceremony. The ceremony involved significant rituals, oaths, blood, and an agreement was made to follow the rules of the Family as presented to the inductee.

The sequence of the ceremony had several features. First, the recruit was led into the presence of other official members. Sometimes, the real boss would expose his face to the new members, but sometimes they were only shown to the acting bosses to avoid disclosure.

In the ceremony, the association was also explained, including the Family's basic rules, then the pinky finger of the newcomer would be pricked with a knife. A few drops of blood were spilled on Yerevan's representation card, then that card was set on fire and passed rapidly from hand to hand. The boss was the last who held the card until it became ashes, and finally, the novice took an oath of loyalty to the Family.

Those who broke that rule, depending on the severity of their mistake, should confess, apologize, and if forgiven by the boss, must cut their pinky finger as retribution. But, if it was a betrayal, even worse case; the person became an enemy, they would be executed right away.

When the Family members incited the other Family members with money and position, it indeed was hard to refuse. Youngsters got easily persuaded, and many of them were new members who had just joined after passing probation. Unfortunately, they were all talented. One of them might have even been a spy like me.

Betraying your family for money or position and death is what awaits you in the future, I convinced myself.

But, unlike what had I assumed before, the Mafia took murder very seriously. They didn't kill people just because they wanted to. The killing could only be done with the boss' permission and the benefit had to be properly considered whether or not bigger than the risk.

Even so, in the Mafia world, as expected, every shape of betrayal meant humiliation to the boss and the entire family. Though, rather than simply executing, Marvel was willing to give a second option; to be the Family's loyal dogs.

The Family's dogs existed to work the dirtiest jobs, often life-threatening. They should be able to do whatever the boss told them to, without any mistake or error, or they must pay the compensation for it, often with their lives.

Then again, if one decided to be the dogs, at the very least, they would have a place to stay. And the most important thing, there was no need to worry about being hunted down by the other Family assassins because Marvel would protect his dogs. Especially, the ones he favored.

As simple as it sounded, that man always put people in the situation between blessed and cursed.

***

"President, I thought you're left-handed?"

When I delivered some documents to Marvel's company office, he was sitting on his chair, signing some papers with his right hand. Moving naturally like that, his gesture in writing might trick other people, but not me. As I had gotten used to observing people, I could immediately spot even the slightest difference.

"I don't think I'm left-handed," he stopped writing and turned the pen to his other hand, starting to write again just as naturally. "I can use both of them."

So, you're ambidextrous?

It was the first time for me to meet people who could use both of their hands so highly in balance. Nothing wrong with that, just, I thought it would be advantageous if a spy like me had that kind of gift for an undercover purpose.

"Why?" He asked, curious about the reason I mentioned that.

"I'm just thinking it must be efficient," I told what I had in mind.

"It is," he agreed. "I can easily deceive people if I wanted to disguise myself, right?" He snorted, his gesture cavalier.

"I believe you will be able to disguise well, President," I smiled under my lie.

With those striking features that would easily catch attention, Marvel might be the worst candidate for being an undercover agent.

"Hmm... I thought you're going to be blunt and say I would be bad at it," he denied, grinning at me and I snapped inside, blood leaving my back in a rush, my spine cold.

I forced myself to stay focused, not allowing his words to affect me, telling myself he was only joking around. All this time, merely thinking to please him, I forgot he was the kind of person who liked to question people's honesty.

For a moment, we were trapped in an awkward gaze and dull silence, until he grasped the documents I had just brought.

"Tell me what these are," he let it slide and I immediately seized my focus back.

"The transactions in the north and west sectors have been sorted out. The shipment will be sent a day after the final payment, I have confirmed it in the invoice. As for tonight, you will be attending the monthly auction."

Marvel responded to my report with a yawn as he was flipping the papers. The date showed as Thursday, and he wasn't currently at home. It was probably the reason why he looked so bored, because on weekdays he had to be present in the company; Yerevan Group, the center of Yerevan's business and properties.

The building was placed downtown among many big companies. From the outside, Yerevan Group appeared like a normal public corporation, not even one of the customers knew the Mafia was running the business. It was an example of great camouflage, I must say.

On the table, there lying a marble board engraved with his name as the president of the company. The arrangement of the room was pretty much the same as the one in the mansion, yet a bit narrower.

"For tonight's auction, help Gilbert prepare for me," Marvel finally reacted properly and I watched him in wonder.

It would be the second monthly auction since I officially worked for him, but he wanted to bring Gilbert instead of me. Again.

The auction could be a big help for my investigation, since only the guests were allowed to get in, doing various businesses only the underworld's elites know, but Marvel never let me be there. Not even once.

I wondered if he hadn't trusted me yet after what we had done, all this time, still choosing Gilbert over me...

Actually, my main job was to facilitate Gilbert with his uncountable tasks to serve and assist Marvel. Without me, everyone knew Gilbert would be able to do it just fine. It meant Gilbert could fill my place, but I couldn't replace his.

Now, I understood my position in front of Marvel.

"Yes, President," I shortly replied, pasting a pretentious smile. "Well, then. If you may excuse me."

"Asta."

I was about to pull the doorknob when Marvel suddenly called my name, softly, in his deep-toned voice. I turned my head and captured his smiling face.

"Asta, my tie is crooked."

Indeed, a centimeter slope and he called me out.

I removed my hand from the doorknob, walking back to him. When I asked for his permission to fix his necktie, he held my hand instead of answering, leaving me bewildered.

"Sit," he ordered, tapping his lap with his other hand, grinning as I could guess the evil intention from his demeanor.

Seeing me rather reluctant, he pulled me and I flopped to his chest.

"I-if someone sees us-"

"You should have locked the door when you had the chance, right?"

Self-centered. He made it as if it was my fault because he didn't want to let me go.

I frowned in annoyance as I watched him smiling to mock me. His hands moved to my waist, caressing me there. My pounding heart anticipated the worst-case situation as I started to fix his tie.

Even though he had seen every part of me, even though we had done something more severe than this, I still couldn't get used to his touch. Moreover, in a place like this where anyone could expose us anytime.

He noticed that I got nervous, flinching easily just by the slightest touch. The air-conditioner that made me cold no longer worked since I began to sweat. But, enjoying my bashful reaction, his hands slid down to my butt, rubbing against the cleavage.

"President, please..." I groaned in refusal, squirming above his lap.

I closed my eyes and turned my head down. His necktie on my hands, I hadn't finished tying it yet. He caressed my cheek, lifting my face gently.

"Asta, look at me."

Cold. His hand that caressed my cheek was cold.

He rested his forehead against mine and then claimed a kiss. I clasped my mouth shut, but could immediately feel the warmth of his lips on mine, smooching hard enough to shake my composure. His tongue demanded to barge in, but I still didn't let him do as he pleased.

Because I knew once he had gone that far, he would go even harder, and I wouldn't be able to stop him.

I heard some footsteps outside the door and tried to push him away, but he was stronger. Having me against it as much, he finally pulled away; a rather surprising end.

"I can't afford my worker unable to walk out my office as if I were bullying him, so let's not do it," he assured, though, with a tease. "At least, not here."

When he whispered, I felt his warm breath slither past my ear, his voice low and raspy, resonating through the air with a cunning tone.

"So, prepare yourself and come to my room tonight."

The words this man ever said always gave me certain pressure, because even when I wasn't in the mood, I wouldn't be able to refuse.