Chapter 4

Chapter 4

         It has been two weeks since my last encounter with Ace, and I still don't understand what the deal is with him. People seem to fear him; he certainly looks like a bad guy. However, I'm the only one who witnessed him put a bullet through a man's head—a man who turned out to be the leader of a mafia.

I anticipated chaos in the city following his death, believing his men would be seeking revenge for their leader's murder. Surprisingly, Granville, in particular, was quieter than it had been in years; the calmness was almost unsettling.

I strolled through the streets as if I weren’t a walking target. With Saturday here, I had no classes or shifts at the diner, so I decided to look for another job. I wanted to save more money to continue my education and afford a cheap apartment, or at least a motel for a couple of nights. Sleeping on a bed was far preferable to spending nights on roadsides, park benches, or in random public restrooms. After what I witnessed, I made sure to steer clear of abandoned buildings; they might have been more comfortable, but that was a risk I just wasn’t willing to take.

Catching a cold from sleeping outdoors felt like a better option than witnessing another murder, and that was the grim reality of my situation. As I walked around the mall, feeling congested with a slight headache, I stumbled upon a clothing store with a help-wanted sign on the glass door. I was hesitant to get my hopes up, yet the possibility of a job reignited a flicker of optimism in me that I couldn't ignore.

Pulling the door open, I stepped inside and glanced around. It was a women’s store with various sections catering to different age groups, and one wall showcased an array of footwear.

"How can I help you?" a voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling my attention away from the pink and black Converse I had been admiring. I turned to face the girl in front of me, who looked to be about my age. With her arms folded, she regarded me with big blue eyes that glared slightly, her expression marred by a frown on her seemingly fake lips.

“Oh, I saw the sign outside and I want to apply for a job,” I replied.

She unfolded her arms and brushed her blond hair over her shoulder. “That old thing? It’s been out there for weeks. We already found someone, honey.”

I scanned the store, noticing that the workers were easily distinguishable from the customers due to their black shirts featuring a pink logo. It seemed this girl was the only one wearing that uniform.

“Please, it doesn’t have to be full-time—just on Saturdays,” I implored, feeling a surge of desperation for this job. I was willing to do anything to get my foot in the door.

She scrutinized me from head to toe, her gaze landing on my black leggings and t-shirt. "What do you know about working in a store anyway? Your outfit is really outdated," she remarked, pointing at my clothes. "My dad is the manager," she added with a self-satisfied smirk, "which means I’m in charge of hiring since he’s out of town, and you really don’t seem fit to work here."

"You can't just judge me by the way I look," I protested, my voice steady. "I work in a café on weekdays, so I know how to deal with customers. I can clean and put the clothes back where they belong."

For a moment, she seemed to consider my words. Then, shaking her head, she answered, "No, sorry, but you can try Savage." She gestured towards the store across the street, its glass door emblazoned with the bold words 'Savage Designs,' which hinted at a gothic aesthetic.

"Thanks," I replied, my voice lacking its earlier conviction as disappointment washed over me. My hope felt as deflated as a balloon that had lost all its air, leaving me to ponder my next move while glancing toward the ominous gothic store across the street.

                After striking out at that store and the other three, I felt the weight of rejection sink in deeper, all because of my appearance. In the last shop I entered, an employee eyed me with suspicion and accused me of being there to steal. My heart sank—though I was homeless, I'd never stolen a thing, not even a sweet treat. The unjust assumptions were crushing, each accusation a reminder of the harsh judgments people made without knowing my story.

I settled onto the edge of a water fountain in the mall, its stagnant pool reflecting my disheartened mood; it clearly hadn’t functioned in ages. The tantalizing aromas of various foods wafted through the air, making my stomach growl with hunger and sending waves of dizziness through me. With each passing moment, the contrast between the vibrant life around me and my own emptiness felt increasingly unbearable, as if I were an apparition drifting through a world I barely belonged to.

"Look who we have here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been hiding from me, bonita." I glanced up at the man standing before me, and a wave of unease washed over me; running was not an option in my current state. I was afraid that if I even tried to stand, I might just faint right in front of him.

"Hey," I heard Ace say as he approached me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

I felt warm, strong hands press against my cheeks, and I couldn't shake the unease that washed over me—it was as if his touch carried a darker weight. Summoning what little strength I had, I swatted his hands away, but my feeble attempt barely made a difference. "I’m fine, just please leave me alone," I insisted, my voice steady despite the rising tide of discomfort.

He ignored my words and moved his hand to my forehead, a gesture that made my discomfort even more pronounced. Just then, my stomach chose that moment to embarrass me with an audible grumble. "You're not fine, bonita," he said, his tone firm yet concerned. "You have a slight fever, and by the sound and look of it, you’re starving."

This was humiliating, and before I could protest or tell him how wrong he was, he effortlessly pulled me up from my seat and swept me into a bridal carry. I hated the implications of that term, especially now. "Please, what are you doing? Put me down!" I protested, my voice rising as a mix of annoyance and discomfort surged through me.

Ace strode forward with long, purposeful steps, completely disregarding my protests as if they were mere whispers in the wind. Each step only amplified my frustration, making me feel both helpless and exasperated while he confidently navigated the space like he had all the control.

          As I sat at the table surrounded by five imposing, muscular men, many would assume I’d feel intimidated, stifling my appetite. Yet, their presence only made me feel oddly at ease, and the delicious spread laid out by the one across from me was far too tempting to resist. Rather than feeling afraid, I found myself excited to indulge, relishing every bite while basking in the camaraderie of the moment.

After savoring the rich soup, I moved on to the cheesy fries and burgers, relishing each bite as I fought the urge to moan in pleasure. The hulking men standing around us, likely Ace’s bodyguards, had their backs turned, but I hardly had the mental space to ponder their presence with the irresistible oatmeal and raisin cookie beckoning me from the table. Each scrumptious taste brought me back to life, replacing my worries with pure satisfaction as I indulged in the feast laid out before me.

"Take this," Ace says, holding out a small white pill. I glance up at him, noting that he hasn't even touched his food. His strikingly handsome face is set in a serious expression, making me pause. I swallow my bite, my attention fully on the pill, curiosity and concern swirling within me as I contemplate his unexpected offer.

"I'm not taking that! I don't know what it is, and I’m not ready to die," I protest, feeling a rush of panic.

Ace chuckles lightly, his demeanor surprisingly calm. "It's fine; I already crushed one in the soup." My eyes widen in shock—so he wasn’t planning to kill me with a bullet, but with a little white pill instead. A wave of tears wells up in my eyes, blurring my vision as the reality sinks in. How much time do I have left?

“Don’t cry, love; it’s just something for the fever,” Ace reassures me, his tone soothing. “It was specially invented by one of my doctors; it works wonders.” 

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” I challenge him, my skepticism rising.

He holds the pill between two fingers, displaying it before popping it into his mouth and swallowing it without so much as a sip of water. My eyes widen in disbelief. Who swallows a pill without any liquid? The answer looms ominously: a man who could just as easily pull the trigger on another.

"You know, bonita, you should be thanking me," he says, leaning back comfortably in the chair, as if he owns the place. "I cleared all of your things from the crime scene; wouldn’t want them to consider you a suspect." My breath catches as I process his words. I hadn’t even thought of that amidst the chaos of everything else happening in my life.

"I also have something of yours, sweet Joeniya, but the only way you'll get it back is if you come and live with me," Ace states, his tone both tempting and sinister.

His words shock me back to reality, igniting a fire of defiance in my chest. "I don’t care what you have for me; I will never live with you," I assert, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within me.

He smirks, a glint of mockery in his eyes. "You were a cute little girl. You also share similar features of your father." My heart races as his words crash over me, and I suddenly realize what he’s talking about. How could I have forgotten something so precious?

He must have discovered the box I hid away, filled with memories of my father before he passed; it was too large to carry, so I tucked it safely in the warehouse. But how did he find it? Panic intertwines with anger as I grapple with the implications of his knowledge and the fact that my cherished memories are now in the hands of someone I cannot trust.

"M*****a sea, Joeniya Ramirana Alision, que harás ahora? Tu vida siempre es tan complicad." Frustration bubbling within me as I faced Ace.

The weight of his revelation hung heavy in the air, and I couldn't help but question my next move. With the memories of my father at stake and the threat of having to give in to his demands, I knew I needed a plan—one that would reclaim my treasure without sacrificing my autonomy.

"You know, since Italian and Russian are the only other languages I speak, I have no idea what you just said, but whatever it is sounded sexy as hell," Ace says, flashing that infuriating grin.

"You," I glare at the handsome devil before me, fully aware that "handsome" and "devil" shouldn’t even occupy the same sentence, yet here I was, powerless against his charm. Every word that spilled from my lips seemed to falter under the weight of that smirk, and while my anger simmered just beneath the surface, I couldn’t ignore the twisted thrill that accompanied his playful banter.

“Bella ragazza,” he teased, his voice dripping with charm. “Just come with me and pick it up. While you’re there, I’ll show you the type of hospitality we Ambrose men provide. If you decide to leave after, that’s up to you. I’ll leave you alone, Joeniya; forget that I saw your pretty face witnessing what I did to that bastard. It will be like it never happened.” His offer dangled in the air, tempting yet laced with danger, and I felt the tension crackle between us. Part of me wanted to heed his words, to escape this mess and his magnetic pull, but another part, a much deeper part, was drawn to the chaos he represented, daring me to step closer into his world.

Ace stared down at the table, a merciless gleam in his eyes, but it quickly shifted to that trademark cockiness as he glanced up at me, that playful challenge dancing in the air between us. “What do you say, Princess? Willing to choose the winning card?” he asked, his voice smooth like velvet, inviting yet taunting. My heart raced at the idea of playing his game, the thrill of risk swirling within me, but I couldn't shake the warning bells screaming in my mind—was I ready to gamble everything on a devilishly charming man who thrived on danger?