Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss-Chapter 165: Why was he here?

Chapter One Hundred and sixty- Five

Asli’s phone rang the moment she shed the Midnight Reaper

persona.

The leather gloves were barely off when the vibration cut

through the silence. She paused, her senses flaring, and her eyes scanning her

surroundings; every corner, rooftops, and reflections. Only when she was

certain she had not been followed or spotted did she reach for the phone.

Her father’s name glared back at her.

She exhaled slowly and answered.

"Sir."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Marco’s voice roared

through the line, loud enough that she instinctively pulled the phone a

fraction away from her ear.

Something twisted low in her belly, the familiar sharp, and instinctive

tightening. Her fingers curled around the device as her mind raced. Did he find

out? The secrets she carried were layered, carefully buried, or so she hoped.

However, Marco was someone who had a way of sensing rot even

when he didn’t know where it festered.

She waited.

His silence stretched, as if deliberate.

"Cole had the audacity," Marco continued, "to tell me that

any orders I have for him should go through you."

Asli closed her eyes briefly. Was this what his outburst was

about? She thought he had found out about her relationship with Ahmet. She thought

Ahmet had ratted her out.

If only Marco knew the truth, his anger wouldn’t have been

because of this. He would have better things to explode about.

"What kind of training did you give him?" he continued, "Did

he think he is superior. Did he think he was untouchable?"

Why would Cole ask Marco that? Did he not know that her

father was already going through something only he understood? She was sure

Ahmet’s mission had shaken something in him.

Regardless, her father was their master, and everyone he ordered

obeyed. Cole knew that so why would he say that to him?

"I apologize, sir," she said evenly. "I will speak to him."

"You’d better," Marco barked. "Because it’s either his head or

Markus’."

The line went dead.

Asli stood there long after the call ended, the phone still

pressed to her ear, as the words echoed too loudly in her skull.

Why was her father asking Cole to kill Markus when she was

not involved in the mission? Why was her father trying everything to exclude

her? He would now rather ask Cole to do something other than her doing it, wouldn’t

he?

That alone was enough to ignite her interest.

Whatever this was, she wasn’t waiting for the sun or

permission to uncover the truth. She was calling Markus. Whether he liked it or

not, he was going to tell her everything.

She dialed Cole’s number first. He had rushed back to the

Villa to listen in on Marco and Demir, just as she had ordered.

"Boss."

The word registered a beat too late. Cole only used it when

things were serious.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Running an errand. Your father called," he said.

She nodded instinctively, then murmured an absent "Hmm" when

she realized he could not see her.

"You asked him to direct orders to you through me. Why?"

"I didn’t ask him," Cole replied. "I told him."

Her brows knit together. Cole didn’t speak to Marco like

that. Ever.

"What did you hear?" she pressed.

"Nothing conclusive. Not yet."

Her grip tightened. "Tell me."

There was a pause.

"Whatever the warehouses are," Cole said finally, "Demir was

running them."

She knew he was holding back. She needed to know what the

warehouses were about. What was in them?

"I need to confirm something," he added. "I’ll call you

back. I promise."

For once, she needed to be patient. She dismissed him and

headed home.

Sleep had been a

stranger for days. Her body moved on autopilot; shower, clothes, chair but the

moment she sat at her desk, exhaustion claimed her.

She did not remember falling asleep.

She woke to sunlight and Matilda knocking impatiently at her

door, calling her to breakfast.

Asli checked the time and sighed.

She then picked up her phone and called Markus. She didn’t care

whether he was still angry at her. If anything, she’d match his energy. The

imbecile tricked her father and she was going to draw a score with him after

finding out the reason.

The line clicked.

"Hello, woman of my heart," the voice joked and she wondered

if he had bipolar.

She blinked once.

"This is not one of your toys. Idiot." Asli snapped.

"Oh?" he chuckled. "Funny. This number looks exactly like my

woman’s."

Her teeth ground together. She didn’t like to be owned. Maybe

not by the owner of this voice.

"Markus, call me that again," she said softly, yet dangerously,

"and you won’t find your tongue tomorrow. I am not your woman."

"Of course you’re not," Markus replied lightly. "Ahmet won

that race."

Silence fell.

She wasn’t surprised he knew. They had fooled everyone, including

her.

"I want to know what is going on." She demanded.

"And here I thought you’d find out yourself. Are you losing 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

your touch?"

"I tried but you guys cleaned everything."

"Well, we didn’t clean up everything. We only took what we

needed. Your beloved father must’ve done the cleaning."

"Meet me at my warehouse." She ordered

Markus laughed... louder. "Wait a damn fcking minute. You want

me to come to your warehouse so you can kill me too? Or try, on this matter?

Please, I’m not done sleeping with half of the women in the world yet. I still

have a long way to go." He joked and it annoyed her. She knew his jokes were

a pretense. Now she knew who exactly he was, but why was he still pretending to be a

clown?

Her patience snapped. "Pick a location and send me the

directions. You better not play games with me!"

"I don’t think I want to meet you. Go and ask your father."

"If you don’t meet me at my warehouse in the next thirty

minutes, I’m coming to your Villa and you know how good I make my entrances."

She hung up immediately.

It was her time to blackmail him. She had wanted him to pick

their meeting place but not anymore. He was a clown. He was never going to

change. Asli was accepting the fact that this man probably would always be like

this.

Before she could leave her room, her phone chimed.

Asli stopped mid-step and turned back, irritation already

curling in her chest. She snatched the phone from the table.

Markus.

A location pin blinked beneath his name.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Imbecile," she muttered, the word sharp enough that it almost

escaped as a shout.

She didn’t waste another second.

The drive was fast, and

reckless at the same time, her mind racing ahead of the road. When she arrived,

she didn’t step out immediately. She stayed in the car, her eyes sweeping the

perimeter; every window, corners, shadows, the way the gate stood half too

open. Only when nothing felt wrong did she step out and approach.

Asli waited just outside the gate, the engine humming softly

beneath her.

She hadn’t even shifted in her seat when a smaller door set

into the main gate opened. A man stepped through. He was calm and unhurried,

eyes already assessing her before the door sealed shut behind him.

He stopped a few feet from the car.

"Identify yourself."

"Asli."

That earned her an unimpressed look.

"ID."

Her fingers stilled on the steering wheel. Slowly, she

turned her head, her eyes lifting to his through the open window.

"If you need that," she said evenly, voice low, dangerous,

"I’d snap your neck before you finished checking it."

For a heartbeat, nothing moved.

Then the corner of his mouth tilted.

He straightened, his thumb brushing his earpiece as his gaze

lingered on her face and this time with interest.

A single nod.

"Open the gate, she’s the one."

He stepped back toward the gate. The heavy metal groaned as

it slid open fully.

"Drive in. Park where you’re directed."

Asli pulled forward as the gate closed behind her, the sound

echoing through the compound like a seal being broken.

She followed his directions, parked where he indicated, then

trailed him inside.

The moment she crossed the threshold, something in her chest

tightened.

The tone floors, clean lines, muted colors, and even the

faint scent in the air; expensive, and understated reminded her of a house she knew.

Ahmet’s.

The resemblance hit her so suddenly she slowed without

meaning to. Her fingers brushed the smooth surface of a pillar as she walked,

and memory slipped in where thought should have been.

Ahmet’s hand there once, warm, possessive, and guiding her

back against the same kind of cold stone. The way his body had caged her in

without effort, breath grazing her ear as he murmured something low and

indecent. The heat of him, the contrast of marble against skin, and the quiet

intensity that had made the world narrow to just the two of them.

Her pulse jumped.

She pulled her hand back as if the wall had burned her.

Needing a distraction, she took out her phone and dialed

Markus. It rang. And rang.

No answer.

She paced the hall, boots echoing softly, as irritation built

with every step. It didn’t help. The house kept offering up reminders. Every

space felt too intimate, and pieces whispered of things done in confidence and secrets.

Enough.

She dropped into the chair near her.

The sound of a voice cut through the silence almost

immediately.

It was... Familiar.

Her head snapped up.

He was speaking to someone, voice low but firm, telling them

to hurry, that he didn’t have time for delays. The words drifted toward her

from just beyond the doorway.

Asli straightened, spine rigid, and her attention

sharpening.

Her eyes locked on the entrance, and unblinking as if she

feared she’d miss whoever walked through the doorway.

Why was he here?