Chapter 9

Mia

I came back from my shopping spree one week ago with so many clothes, Ash and Shadow had to go back five times to the car to empty it. Ares wasn’t bothered when he came back, which really upset me because that was the whole purpose of it. I bought everything I could find. So many clothes, lingerie, shoes, jewelry, and even a car I won’t need because I don’t even know how to drive. The whole thing hit about three grand in just an afternoon.

I’m good, I know.

But he came home that night and just said, with a knowing smile, “Nice car, princess.” Then slept like a bear and left in the morning before I could wake up. It made my skin burn. I wanted to hurt him and he looked more amused than anything else.

I spent years of my life in a house where I couldn’t fight back because the punches I got were always stronger than me. But here, with Ares, I know in my bones he won’t hurt me like my parents did. I see it in the way he looks at me, in the way he stayed with me during my episode, how shaken he looked after he realized what he had done.

With him, I can be… myself . And the thought of that makes the hair on my nape rise.

He’s not trying to change me or humiliate me by pointing out everything that is wrong with me. I know he’s sorry for what he did, not that I’m forgiving him, but… I can see he cares, and he’s willing to wait for me to cool down until I’m ready to come back to him.

He saw me, the real me, and he’s not running away.

Why?

Yesterday, I woke up entangled in something hot and heavy. As if leaves and branches had been running under my arms and legs and kept me glued to the mattress. A scent of musk filled my nostrils and I realized that I had entangled myself to Ares unconsciously during the night.

Gosh, was it the first time?

Flushed with embarrassment and probably also because I was angry at myself for not pushing him faster after realizing what I’d done, I shook my head. I needed to leave this place before things got to me before I created a mess I couldn’t walk away from.

Ares would never give me the love and the home I was so desperate for. His attempt to test me the night of my episode was proof of it. We were too different to exist in the same world. Maybe my father would let the threat of Kiara go if I stayed legally married to Ares without living with him.

Perhaps that was the answer to all my problems.

Yes, that’s what I needed to do.

Ares

So fucking pretty and so fucking mad.

That had been the face of my wife for days now.

Oh, she was mad.

But fuck, if that wasn’t entertaining to watch. She had bought so many stuff, she made Ash and Shadow carry it all to our house, thinking it would piss me off. It didn’t. At all. And the look on her face that night, damn, I almost wanted to say something just to make her disappointed pout disappear. That was adorable.

What I was not expecting was the fucking festival of tiny silky things she’s been sleeping in since her shopping spree.

So many fucking colors.

So little fabric.

And the worst is I bet she doesn’t even realize how it affects me. Probably think I’m seeing other chicks from the club, strippers, and barmaids, all too eager to please me with their lip rings, tattoos, and flashy clothes. Thing is, and it’s been fucking with my head for weeks now, but since marrying Mia, the thought of touching another woman has been making me want to gag.

Literally.

I tried. Believe me, I tried. Took a blonde to my office, a pretty one, a stripper from a club we own on the other side of town, but the moment she touched me, I pushed her away and sent her back where she came from. It didn’t feel right. She asked me if she could try again, terror in her eyes as she knew she was facing the hand of death. The girl was terrified, but I guess it was a good thing; it meant my reputation was intact.

Anyway, I would have never hurt her ‘cause I don’t do that to women, but since then, I haven’t tried again. Didn’t want to put another girl through this and make her wonder if I was about to shoot her in the head because I wasn’t pleased or some shit.

I’m a psycho, but only for the one who deserves it.

So instead of breaking off some much needed steam with other women, I’ve been on edge. And I fucking mean it. I had to spend an hour at the gym each morning on my punching bag just to remove the sweet face lingering in the back of my mind with her sultry voice and sinful lips.

My brothers are barely talking to me since I’m snapping back at them like a lion who’s been denied his kill, baring my teeth at anyone who talks to me.

“You okay, Prez?” asks Shadow as he walks past the punching bag where I’m training. We’ve got a massive gym at the club, machines, weights, and everything you could ever need to train for martial arts. And an octagon. Of course. Gotta have one when you host fight nights every month.

“Time to plan a fight night,” I grunt, punching the black leather with intensity.

“Sure, when do ya want it, boss?” He crosses his arms.

“Next week.” The slap of my fist echoes around us while metal blasts in the background. “Pick me a skilled guy. I’m tired of knocking them down before the first round.”

“Think I know who,” he says with a smug face.

I nod. “You know the drill.”

Then I keep on punching the bag relentlessly as if it can give me any relief concerning the little fiery woman I got at home.

Fuck, even thinking about her here makes me angry.

It should have been easier. Get the girl, marry her, break her open and then decide if I could trust her.

The two first steps were going alright, but breaking her open had been the biggest mistake I had ever made. I thought she would have admitted to being there for the money or the fucking advantages of being the wife of a Prez. Thought she would have revealed her true face, but instead I saw her.

All of her.

Small, vulnerable, terrified.

And I hate myself for it, every single day. Because I know how much it cost her to be seen like this when she wasn’t ready for it. I know a queen like her can’t stand looking weak and it was all my fault. The single memory of her panic attack makes me want to burn the world to the ground and build it back again just for her.

I’m so fucked, it’s not even funny anymore.

Shadows walks away to the bar, leaving me here panting, sweat rolling down my face. “Fuck!” I mutter before heading to my office. The only thing that can relieve this kind of pressure is probably sitting in my house, drinking strange green lattes and wearing outrageous small fabric on her fucking sweet body.

Losing control isn’t how I like things to go.

I’m a planner, even if it’s not what you'd expect from a tall biker covered in tattoos, but I’m way more serious than people give me credit for. I’ve been a lone wolf all my life, surrounded by family and my men but still, at the top, I’ve always been alone.

Maybe you’re not anymore.

I run a hand in my sweaty hair.

A new plan and a fight.

That’s all I need to win her back.

Hopefully.