The message for Tragos to take was just to run the book down to Jason, who was running the betting pool. Marcie watched him as he bowed his head to the man behind the desk, and watched him go as unashamedly as he’d been watching her. Then Melpomene nodded at her and waved her in, and she stepped into her father’s office.
Ares wasn’t exactly what she’d thought. She’d pictured the classical look, the helm, hair curling around his temples, maybe a beard. A disposition closer to what she’d found in Athena. Instead she found a hulking man, close-cropped hair, who didn’t even look up as she came in. He was messaging someone on his phone.
Was this it? Marcie thought for a moment, and then he fixed his gaze upon her. There was intensity to his face that made her hesitate, just a little. His eyes took her in- slim, well-dressed, young- and dismissed her almost in the same instant. She straightened her spine, lifting her chin with pride.
“What is it? I don’t have long so make it quick,” he growled, half an eye on his phone as he waited for her to speak.
Marcie cleared her throat lightly, and glanced out towards Melpomene. Who was she? Was she worthy of this? “My name is Marcella Bellini,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I was born in Wisconsin-”
“I didn’t ask for your life story,” Ares growled, already losing interest. “Get to the point.”
Marcie exhaled softly, remaining steady. “I came to find you because you are my father,” she said, a note of proclamation in the air. She watched him, and he looked up at her, taking her in a second time. She held herself strong, waiting.
He shrugged. “So?” he said, going back to his phone.
Marcie felt a flash of anger at being so quickly dismissed. “So my mother is Celeste Bianchi. She followed you when you were in the army in 1995. I’m your daughter.” She held out the pendant on its chain.
Ares got up slowly, looking at it, moving around the desk. “So that’s where that went,” he said, reaching for the pendant, and yanking it off her neck, snapping the chain. Marcie let out a sound of pain and indignation, trying to grab for it back, but he caught her wrist firmly. “Listen, Marcella, was it? Do you know how many children I have had in my time? Hundreds. Literally hundreds. I don’t give a shit about you, or your mother, or where you came from. I have nothing for you. Get out of here and quit wasting my time.”
Marcie could feel anger building, and she pulled her hand back as Ares turned away, letting her go. She wanted to grab for him, make him turn back and accept her and what he’d done to her mother, but he suddenly seemed to be not so very different from the giant image in the foyer, his large stature imposing even with his back turned. She clenched her jaw and her fists, a fire of fury shooting up through her core.
“You treated my mother like garbage, and now you ignore me?” she demanded loudly. “Give me back my necklace!”
“It was mine first,” Ares replied, opening a desk drawer and dropping it in, his malevolent gaze going back to her. “My patience is wearing thin, girl.”
“It’s mine! My mother gave it to me!” Marcie trembled with adrenaline, feeling about ready to fly at him, beat his face with her fists until he gave her something more than this infuriating dismissal. “If you don’t want to take responsibility for your children, maybe you shouldn’t fuck people without precautions! Asshole!”
Ares’ look was growing more dangerous by the moment, and Marcella bared her teeth at him. From the corner, the dog growled softly, lifting himself up, watching his master and this young interloper carefully.