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Ares

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I expected to die of boredom.

I have a striking characteristic besides the cynicism and arrogance that women always make a point of throwing in my face at the end of the brief affairs I have: I hate wasting time.

Within the category of “timewasters”, I group everything that is not capable of holding my interest, and dancing is certainly included.

The moment I saw my ward on stage, however, she completely stole my attention.

I don't know shit about ballet, but I know a lot about beauty and passion. Serenity is a raw vision of the two.

As I watched her dance, I understood, for the first time, why she doesn't go out and why she doesn't seem to have any friends or even a potential boyfriend.

Serenity is already committed, immersed in an intense dedication to her art.

During the entire performance, I can't take my eyes off her. I have to force myself to remember who she is, because there is something pure and heavenly about the girl, but there is also such an intense ardor in the way she moves that I can't help imagining what all that passion would be like in bed.

Every time the thought reaches me, I push it away, trying to focus on the fact that I'm not in front of just any woman but a young orphan, someone who is unprotected and, much more than that, is my responsibility.

I don't even know what her face looks like, since in the photos I saw, she was nothing more than a teenager.

What the hell is happening? I can have any woman I want with a phone call, and my fucking dick decides to manifest itself for a girl I'm supposed to take care of?

A creature as fragile as a hummingbird?

Indifferent to my thoughts, she spins around the stage, beautiful, with perfect and precise movements. Is she aware that she is hypnotizing everyone, men and women? Yes, because there is not even a whisper in the air and the theater is relatively large.

Serenity has the audience on its delicate toes, and I don't like being part of that group.

I force myself to look away from the stage and reach for my phone inside my blazer. I quickly scroll through my contact list, knowing that somewhere in it is a woman or women from New Orleans that I've dated in the past.

I find three names with the local area code. I try to remember who they are, but I can't.

Randomly, my finger hovers over someone called “Sebia”. The name is familiar to me.

Is she a model I dated?

I wrack my memory, but I can't remember anything. I'm thirty-four years old. I've had countless partners, so it's not unusual that I don't even remember their faces, but how is it possible that I don't remember anything ? A conversation, a laugh, or at least how I felt when I had her?

No, I don't remember anything at all. I have a huge list of contacts that represents a huge void, and I like it that way.

Today, however, I know that one random woman won't be enough.

The moment this certainty hits me, the performance comes to an end.

I keep my finger suspended over the phone's display, but I focus back on the stage, and at this exact moment, Serenity looks in my direction.

It's not a blind head turn. She looks at me.

I can't see much of her face, just that she's smiling.

I'm not so stupid as to think she’s smiling at me. Serenity has the confident expression of a winner. From what I’ve found out, today was her first solo performance, and she knows she did it perfectly.

Her head spins, refocusing on the audience.

I look at her, a little irritated. I want to snap my fingers and tell the lights to come on. No, I want to order her to be brought to me, to give me her undivided attention, like a spoiled fucking king who has his every wish met.

My arrogance wants to prohibit her from looking away from me.

I look at the phone in my hand again, knowing that I must quickly head to the dressing room, introduce myself to Serenity, and be on my way. Maybe enjoy the night with Hades a little, like the old days, since I definitely know I won't be calling that Sebia, or the other local names in my diary.

My hand tightens around the device, my mind reacting to what I know I'm going to do.

With a hand gesture to the head of my bodyguards standing at the entrance of the box, I summon him. In a second, he is at my side. I quickly order him to reserve a restaurant that I've been to here in New Orleans and that I know is very good. Then I look for her name in the address book.

Serenity Clementine Blanchet.

I type a message.

Ares Kostanidis, your guardian, speaking. How long do you need to get ready? I’m taking you to dinner.

I decide to give her fifteen minutes to answer me. A concession to the fact that she must be being harassed by her team. After that, if there is no response, I will go and get her.

A dinner, just to make sure she's okay, and then I'll get her home safely. After that, we won't need to see each other anymore.