Dangerous Illusion [18+]

17: Confrontation

I had just finished a call with my brother, who had texted me the details of their travel plan. He and my parents would arrive on Tuesday morning and take a cab to my apartment. I had offered to pick them up from the airport, but they declined, not wanting me to travel late at night. I considered asking Jason if he could take me to the airport, but I stopped myself. My parents would surely wonder how I had a personal chauffeur at my disposal when I was barely settled in New York. Telling them that it was courtesy of a man I was fucking wouldn't do me any favours when I eventually introduced them to Ares.

I couldn't imagine that meeting going well either way. Just thinking about them meeting him and seeing who he had become now made me shudder. My parents loved him like he was their own, and Max looked up to him so much while we were dating. But they had witnessed my heartbreak over him, and that changed things considerably.

Plus, they'd ask questions that I didn't have answers for. How could I respond when they'd ask me how he was so rich?

I had wondered the same. Then it struck me that I could simply Google him. However, the rabbit hole of the internet made my head ache. It was as if Ares Rafaelli had never existed five years ago. The Rafaelli Group of Companies, however, was established over thirty years ago by his father, Darius Rafaelli, an attorney by profession who had left his corporate job to start his own company. Darius Rafaelli was a handsome fellow in his youth. His face was as beautiful as the one I now saw in Ares. Their eyes were different in colour. Ares' eyes were a striking blue while his father had hazel eyes. I guessed correctly that Ares had inherited them from his mother, a gorgeous dark-haired beauty. In all her photos, she looked sharply younger than her husband, who now had pure white hair. I was also surprised to see his father in a wheelchair in almost all his pictures, barring a few from his youth.

But the family never appeared in the same picture ever. The internet had hardly any pictures of Ares dating prior to five years ago when he apparently assumed the position of the head of the Rafaelli Group.

Where was the man who worked double shifts flipping burgers on weekends to earn extra cash for rent in college?

Ares came from wealth, which was apparent now, but it wasn't so obvious when he lived in the studio apartment in San Francisco. His mannerism, his clothing, his lifestyle always seemed so normal to me. Ares had confessed to living with his grandparents for most of his life, but that didn't explain his apparently humble lifestyle.

Was it all a façade?

Had I ever truly known my boyfriend?

It broke my heart to realise that Ares had never truly given himself to me. He had conjured up a story to tell me to appear as normal as possible, but there was nothing ordinary about him.

People don't go from being broke college students to one of the world's wealthiest individuals in a span of five years.

Everything was a lie. My head spun, and I felt like throwing up. How easily I had let him back into my life without any caution. How stupid I was not to do my due diligence before I even dated him at twenty.

My phone buzzed, and I jolted away from the screen of my tablet. Dropping the device back on my bed, I was disappointed to see it wasn't Ares. The private number flashing on the screen made my palm sweat. With shaky hands, I answered.

The deep voice from the other end greeted my name in a richly flavoured accent. It made my skin crawl. I listened to the person speak and nodded, even though they couldn't see me.

My heart wasn't in it, but I listened anyway.

Ares' name flashed on my phone around noon. Since I had no appointments for the day, I stayed back in my apartment. He hadn't contacted me in nearly eighteen hours. The last I heard from him was when he'd called me to inform me that we weren't meeting at his penthouse and that Jason would drive me home. He never explained why our plans had changed, but then again, his stubborn ass was always secretive.