Vengeance (COMPLETED)

Part 31

It takes forever for the next two days to pass. An uncomfortable tension hangs over Atticus and I. He spends his days trying to prove me wrong, and I spend mine preparing for him to fail. He wasn't happy when I told him I'd bailed on the legal team to work on the plan, and he was even more betrayed when he found Angelis bailed on him to join me. I've still spent every night with Atticus — having dinner in his room before cozying up in bed. As long as we don't discuss our days, everything goes well.

Atticus admitted defeat before he had to — on the morning of day 3. He wasn't happy about it. He was devastated. And so was I. It wasn't until he agreed to the plan that it all started to hit me. I would be putting myself directly in the line of fire. I'm willingly entering the lion's den. I'll be face-to-face with Vassilis in the exact position I've spent the past few years trying to avoid. Atticus and I have both been more quiet than usual, trying to keep our concerns to ourselves.

Our roles have now reversed — Atticus is the one reassuring me. He held me all night and hasn't let me out of his sight this morning. We said goodbye to Catarina and Santos at the harbour, leaving them behind to handle business on the island while we head to the mainland. I got injured last time I was there, and I have no doubt I'll be getting injured again. I refuse to entertain the thought that I might not be seeing them again. I can tell Catarina struggled to do so, too. Only Santos managed to keep his composure.

"You two look miserable," Angelis comments on our sombre expressions. We sit beside each other at the back of the boat, our hands intertwined. I'm holding onto him so tightly, I'm surprised I'm not cutting off his circulation. Neither of us responds to Angelis. We sit in silence until I can't hide it anymore. He meets my eyes when I turn to him.

"I'm scared," I whisper, not wanting anyone else to overhear. Atticus' eyes fill with sympathy.

"I know, baby," he releases my hand, instead wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. He presses a kiss against my forehead. "It's not too late to change your mind."

"Yes, it is," I say. "We to do this."

"Not if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay. This is the right thing to do. We just have to get on with it."

"I'm here for you, okay? Just say the word and we'll go right back home."

I rest against him, savouring his comfort while I still can. I barely move an inch until we arrive at our destination. It's a city called Kalamata, much bigger than the town we went to last time. The hotel we stay at is right by the harbour — a tall, modern structure that barely fits in between the older, stone buildings. We arranged for Atticus and I to have separate rooms, with a conjoining door. Neither of us wants to sleep without each other, but we need to make it look like we are, just in case Vassilis checks the hotel records. The view from our room is phenomenal. It looks out over the city, with the mountains in the distance. I looked up some information about this place. It has a little bit of everything — shops, beaches, hiking trails, museums, and historical sites. There's an airport just outside the city. We've already bought a ticket to bring me back to New York, or at least, to make it look like I'll be heading back there.

"We should come back here one day," I tell Atticus. He's sitting on the bed, reading over our plan once again. "You can show me all the tourist spots."

"We're seeing them tomorrow," he points out.

"But that's different. We need to take a trip just so we can spend time together."

"Then I'll take you somewhere more romantic."

"Like Paris?" I shoot him an excited smile.

"Not Paris," he laughs. "Paris isn't as nice as you think. I was thinking more... Prague or Lisbon."

"Hey, as long as you're paying..." I tease. "I'll go anywhere."

"We should go to New York. You can show me where you grew up."

"I thought you'd already been there."

"I have, but not with you."

"Then let's do it," I grin.

"Close the blinds if you're going to be smiling that that," he says. "We're meant to be breaking up, remember?"

"Oh, I forgot," my mood instantly drops. I shut the curtains and turn to face my boyfriend. "Tomorrow's going to be awful, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," he puts the binder aside, focusing his attention on me. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I just don't want to argue with you."

"I know," he takes my hand, pulling me over to him. "Trust me when I say I will hate every second of it."

I climb on his lap, straddling him on the bed. My arms hang over his shoulders, his holding me by the waist.

"I wish we could stay here instead."

"We can tonight, and tomorrow night, too. It'll be just me and you — all night. We'll make up for all the arguing we do," his hand moves down to my ass.

"Oh, yeah?" I scoot forward, nudging against his crotch with a smirk on my face. "What will that look like?"

"What do you think?" he slides his hand around, trailing a finger over my core. Shivers shoot up my spine. I lean in, pressing my lips against his. Our kiss starts slow and sweet, only heating up when I start rubbing my body against his cock. His bulge grows as the seconds pass. I start to unbutton his shirt, but he takes things into his own hands. He picks me up, turning us over to lay me on the bed. He stands over me, removing his shirt and kicking off his shoes. It was a good idea to take mine off as soon as we arrived.

"Come back," I tell him, desperate to have him back in my arms. He has other ideas. He leans over, slowly trailing is fingers over my legs, pushing my dress up in the process. His fingers hook over my panties and pull them down, returning to my thighs seconds later. I run my hands over his bare shoulders, enjoying the feeling of his thumb on my clitoris. My muscles start to tingle. A soft moan escapes my lips.

"I love that sound," Atticus whispers. He rubs over my folds before slipping a finger inside.

"Oh my god," I breathe. It already feels so good. He adds another finger, gently rubbing against my G-spot. "Stop. You have to stop."

"Are you sure?" he pauses.

"I'm not ready yet," I say. He removes his fingers. "Take off your pants."