âJesus Christ, why do you have to question everything? Donât you know how to talk? Itâs what people do with each other in case you donât know.â She wasnât the only one around here who could use sarcasm. Fucking smartass.
Maybe heâd turn up the radio just so he wouldnât have to listen to her trying to make something out of nothing. Why were women always like that? If she was so concerned about him having ulterior motives, then why the hell would she ask him for a ride in the first place? Shit made no sense.
As the car filled with music of Armenian origin, Ari focuses on taking the upcoming turn. He rolls down his window so that he could comfortably rest his elbow there while he drove. With any luck, they wouldnât be too far from her house, and then he could go off and get himself a nice, stiff drink.
âSorry, sorry!â Alexis lifted her hands in defense, her eyes saucer-wide. Whether that was because Ariâs tone intimidated her or because she was simply shocked about his abrupt mood swings, she herself couldnât tell.
In the meantime, Ari had cranked up the radio, blasting music in a language she didnât understand. His language, the brunette inferred. Would that stop her from talking over it? Absolutely not. Heâd asked her a question, after all, even if it had likely been a rhetorical one. âYou didnât strike me as someone who enjoys idle talk, and you didnât seem particularly interested in me or my life, either.â God, this was getting awkward. Alexis brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, giving her fingers something to fumble about with in an onrush of nervousness. She considered ditching any further attempts at conversation, but eventually yielded to the urge to add: âNot that you need to be or anything. Iâm just explaining myself here.â
Then, she fell silent, her lips clamped shut until the two pulled up to her apartment building. Without waiting for either Ari to say something or the continuation of their awkward silence, Alexis practically jumped out of the car, barely heeding the other traffic participants. âThanks for the ride,â she mumbled, complementing her words with a grateful nod. She closed the car door and turned, heading straight into the blissful silence of her apartment.
Weeks of her unspectacular, uneventful daily routine passed. Amidst day shifts, nights shifts and university assignments, her involuntary cooperation with the Sarkissians gobbled up whatever free time her busy schedule would have granted her otherwise. Apparently, the unidentified patient wasnât doing any better, so her boss at the clinic had decided to add training sessions to his pharmacological treatment. And whoâd have to deliver these training sessions? Alexis, of course. As if heading straight into the lionâs den â one of the establishments belonging to the Sarkissians â wasnât extremely low on the list of things she wanted to do.
Today, sheâd wrapped up the third session with her patient, whom sheâd naturally met by this point. Tevan Sarkissian, a man she judged to be anywhere between his late forties or early sixties, was suffering from some sort of kidney disease, which was also taking its toll on his cognitive abilities. Hence, Alexis focused on teaching him memory-improving strategies or exercises that would hopefully benefit him in the long run. Of course, working with the Sarkissians was nerve-wracking, but if she disregarded whom Tevan was affiliated with, he was a sweet, certainly not unpleasant patient to work with.
After sheâd packed her things into her satchel, Alexis left the room sheâd claimed for Tevanâs treatment. It was a back room in some sort of hookah lounge, which certainly wasnât the most fitting environment for a patient like Tevan, but Lexie didnât question it. Sheâd be a fool to do so.
Once she slipped through the door sheâd cracked open, Alexis half-expected to come face to face with a man she hadnât seen in weeks: Ari Adamian. During one of their chit-chats, Tevan had divulged that Ari owned this place, so it wouldnât be a surprise to run into him. Instead of the familiar man, though, Alexis almost bumped into the renowned head of the clan: Martun Sarkissian. A surge of nervousness befell her. This man â Leylaâs father, as she had learned â had power. Lots of raw, brutal power in the shape of his loyal underlings.
âHello.â Alexis dipped her head in greeting. âTevan and I just finished, so IâI was about to leave.â
