Chapter 2

Ares

There’s a particular sensation when you’re about to enter the ring before a cage fight. I do them once every other month, when I need to assert power over my men. You have to sometimes, to remind them who’s in charge, and why. I fight fair, you either win or you die. The crowd usually goes quiet at the end when my blood pumps from my opponent's dead body.

I'm aware violence shouldn't leave me so unbothered, but I was born into this world. That's all I've ever known.

Before those fights, right when I'm about to step into the cage, the crowd going wild, a wall of sound hits me from all sides. All I hear is the white noise pumping in my ears. My heart's pounding, adrenaline surging through my veins, every muscle in my body tight as a damn spring. The lights are blinding, the air thick with sweat and blood. It’s that primal, gut-wrenching feeling, knowing you're about to unleash hell, but you have to hold back just enough to keep control.

Seeing Mia laughing and smiling with her cousins tonight hits me the same way.

My chest starts hammering, adrenaline kicking in hard. Every muscle tightens, ready to defend what’s mine. Even though they’re family, jealousy burns hotter than a lit match. They’re older than her, eyeing her like she's a piece of prime meat. Makes me want to put them on the mat, show them who she belongs to.

What really gets under my skin is seeing her laugh and smile like that. She's oblivious to the effect she has on me. Her red hair, creamy skin, fit body in that burgundy dress... It’s fucking with my head. She’s not doing it on purpose to piss me off; she’s just being herself: feisty and confident, like a fucking queen.

“So, what do you think?” asks Vox, sipping his whiskey.

“Mia?” I lift a brow. “She’s gonna be a handful,” I answer honestly to my vice-president. His wife, Rose, puts her glass down and signs him something.

“Rose wants to know if Mia is studying,” he translates.

“She finished her master's degree this year, historical costuming. Why?” I know all about that because I’ve stalked her and hired men to gather intel on her since the moment I knew she’d be my wife. Learned her habits, the products she uses, the folks she saw, the clients she has. Anything I could get my hands on to learn more about her.

Rose signs something to me. I learned a few signs since she’s Vox’s old lady now, but I’m nowhere as fluent as he is. The bastard learned to sign in six months for her.

“Rose says that Mia and her can hangout sometimes if she wants company when we’re here,” Vox explains, giving a grin at his woman. Those two are so disgustingly in love but I gotta say, he’s never been happier and more efficient so I’m glad he found her.

Vox and Rose come back from Seattle from time to time when I need him by my side for certain deals. They bought a flat downtown. It could be good for Mia to meet the women from her new club.

“Thanks, Rose. I’ll let her know, she could use some company.” Zeroing in on Mia, still talking to her cousins, I finish my whiskey in one swift shot, my jaw clenching as I watch a tall blond guy's hand rest on her arm. No fucking way.

“Excuse me,” I say, fastening the buttons of my jacket before striding toward my wife . Taking a deep breath, I try to remember why punching this guy from O’brian’s club isn’t a good idea. She smiles back at him, and for some reason, it doesn’t sit right with me.

“Hands off,” I grunt, pulling her waist to my side in one motion, resting my palm on her hip and feeling her discreet jolt of surprise before she conceals it under a warm smile.

Fuck, she can pull off a good poker face.

I wonder what else she has in store. The three guys who are talking to her lose their smiles immediately at my sight. They’re O’brian men, and they know better than to fuck with me.

“I was just talking about you, hubby,” Mia says in a way too cheerful voice, emphasizing the fucking nickname.

What game is she playing?

I grip her waist tighter, a warning. “Only good things, I bet,” I tell her, my voice cold as ice.

“Of course.” She chuckles, but it sounds fake as fuck, although I seem to be the only one noticing it. “Actually, my cousins were telling me about your cage fights. Seems like you're famous across states.” A smirk plays on her full lips.

I lean in closer. “You find that interesting, princess?” She wants to play lovebird in front of people? Let’s see who breaks first.

Her eyes flicker with challenge as she looks up at me, unfazed. “Not really, it sounds like a lot of testosterone and not a lot of brain.”

Mia’s words cut through me like a knife. Fighting is so much more than just physical power; it’s a way of life, a mindset only very few get to experience in a lifetime. But I refuse to let her see how much her words affect me. Her cousins stills, obviously uncomfortable in front of our standoff.

“Um…we’re gonna go now,” says the blond guy, and the three of them disappear as fast as they can. I get the sense she’s trying to get under my skin, and I fucking hate that she’s succeeding.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” I retort.

“Just calling it like I see it,” she replies coolly, her gaze unwavering.

“Next time I fight, you’ll come sit next to the cage, and we’ll see if it’s as simple as you think it is.” I clench my jaw, struggling to keep my temper in check.

“Of course I will, after all, isn’t that what a good wife is supposed to do? Support her husband?” she asks, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Whatever you think you’re doing, Mia, you can drop the act right now,” I say, tilting my head.

Little Mia wants to piss me off to escape our marriage? Nah, too easy.

“What act?” she asks with fake wide, innocent brown eyes.

“C’mon, trying to piss me off so I’ll break the deal? You’re too easy to read, princess.” I like to call her that to piss her off.

Her eyes flash with something fragile and vulnerable but it disappears right away to be replaced by her mask of confidence.

Interesting.

So there is something underneath this attitude. She doesn’t answer, probably shaken by my words.

“Let’s get over this diner,” I rasp, motioning my head toward the dining room where the staff is ready for us, the table filled with silverware, candles and expensive flowers. All chosen by me for her, according to what the investigator told me about her tastes. I don't usually go for that kind of stuff but I wanted…I wanted her to see that even a biker could host properly. I made a few new arrangements to my home a couple of months ago. The scent of the past was still lingering on the walls of every room and I couldn’t picture a new woman walking in there without changing a few things. Changed the sheets, the paints, and the pictures in the frames.

Everything about her had to go.

I needed a blank page to start over with Mia.

To give this a real shot .

“You look stunning, by the way,” I say, realizing I’ve been a jerk to her the whole day, so an olive branch can’t hurt. And also because I was barely able to do anything else today than watching her effortlessly move, her curves bouncing in her dress, making my knuckles white from clenching my fist at her sight.

My wife is a smokeshow, that’s something I won’t argue.

“Oh.” A sultry exhale escapes her lips. She didn’t expect me to compliment her. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself,” she answers back, brushing my ego with her sweet voice, taking my breath away as I walk us as casually as I can to the dining room.

Mia

“So?” Kiara tugs on my hand.

“So what?” I fire back with a smug grin. I already know what my seventeen-year-old sister is going to ask. I’m seated between her and my new husband, and still, she can’t wait a second more to get information.

“Ares! Come on, Mia, I need details! He looks like a Viking merged with Tom Hardy. Don’t tell me you don’t see it.” She’s practically jumping up and down in her small black dress, her endless red curls bouncing on her waist and her whisper getting less and less discreet.

“He’s, um…” I struggle to find the right words, glancing over at Ares, who’s deep in conversation with his vice-president and his mute wife. She’s gorgeous with her long blonde hair and a navy tight dress. I wonder if we could be friends; I wouldn’t mind making an ally here.

My gaze drifts back to Ares, his strong jawline, intense green eyes, and the way he carries himself with a sort of mancave energy. Even in a suit, he looks like he could take down an army. The tailored fit emphasizes his broad shoulders and powerful build, making him look both imposing and commanding. He’s undeniably attractive, but saying that out loud feels like admitting defeat. I need a word that conveys what I mean without giving too much away.

“He’s…intense,” I finally say, knowing Kiara won’t buy it.

“Intense?” Kiara’s eyes widens, a sly smile spreading across her face. “You know that’s code for “hot as hell”, right?”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Something like that.”

She giggles, clearly thrilled by the revelation. “I knew it! I knew it would work out,” she says with a genuine smile, making me remember why I am doing this.

For her, for her safety, for her future.

Even if she’ll never know the truth, I’ll protect her, always. And if the price to pay is to stay married to this man and never find the happiness of a loving home, then so be it.

“I didn’t say hot as hell, Kiara. You’re the one making the interpretation,” I warn her, but there’s no real heat in my voice.

Kiara nods, still grinning. “Don’t worry, sis. Your secret’s safe with me.” I roll my eyes again. I won't get away with it, not with my sister who can read me better than anyone.

“Oh and also, give me what you don’t want. I’ll cover for you,” she murmurs with a wink and a loving smile.

Thank god I’ve got her.

When you have an eating disorder, the most stressful situations are usually the ones when you don’t have any control over what’s been served to you. It was easy to fake drinking the champagne before dinner but right now, I can’t really put the food on the floor and expect to get away with it. And veal stew with mashed potatoes is definitely not on my “clean food list”.

Kiara is adorable, taking a few discreet bites from my plate so people won’t notice I won’t eat tonight, but I get the feeling it won’t be enough. I ate as much as I could this morning, but it’s been hours, and I’m starving.

“You got an issue with the food or something?” Ares's low, commanding voice suddenly echoes next to me, cutting through the noise of the background music and chatter. Both our clans managed to remain in the same room without fighting each other.

“Just not really hungry, that’s all,” I mutter, grabbing my glass of water and avoiding his piercing gaze.

Water is on the list.

Water is safe.

“You haven’t touched anything before dinner started, Mia. You need to eat something,” he insists firmly, his emerald eyes fixed on mine. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks under his scrutiny. Kiara kicks me under the table again, urging me to comply. Reluctantly, I meet his gaze, trying to muster up the courage to defy him.

“I’m really okay” I reply, my voice wavering. “Just not hungry tonight.”

He narrows his eyes, clearly not believing me. His hand grabs my wrist for a few seconds, as if he was counting my heartbeat.

“Bullshit,” he says.

I look down at my trembling hands, trying so hard to compose myself back into the social butterfly I usually am. But it’s as if he can see through my defenses, exposing my vulnerability.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice softer but no less authoritative. I could argue with him right now, but I don’t want to attract more attention. So I reluctantly raise my eyes, a shiver running down my spine.

“What’s going on? Are you sick?” There’s a tint of concern in his voice.

“No, I’m fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just not hungry, that’s all. Just drop it.”

He studies me for a moment longer, his emerald gaze penetrating. I can tell he’s not entirely convinced, but he nods, though his skepticism is evident. My heart quickens, like each time before one of my episodes and I try to steady my breathing so he won’t notice. Kiara shoots me a sympathetic look. I know it sucks and I know she feels powerless with it. But before I can even think of getting away with it, Ares leans in close, his voice low and rich like velvet.

“If you could choose, what would you eat now?” His question catches me off guard with an intensity that brooks no argument.

I swallow hard, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t reveal too much. “Um, green vegetables with no oil or salt,” I admit quietly. “And one egg, cooked on both sides.”

He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he gets up from his chair and exits the room. I watch him go, my fingers shaking more than a few seconds ago.

What is he doing?

He comes back a minute later, without a glance to me, talking back with his vice-president. Five minutes later, a maid, who I assumed was hired for the occasion, discreetly places a plate in front of me. It holds a serving of plain, steamed green vegetables and a perfectly cooked egg.

Wha-what?

He went into the kitchen to ask his cook to make the exact thing I asked.

Why would he be so kind when we’ve been snipping at each other's throats all day?

“You need anything else?” he asks quietly, turning his face toward me for a second.

“No, this is…perfect,” I reply, trying not to burst into tears at the gesture that means so much to me right now. “Thank you.”

Ares nods again, then turns back to his conversation, leaving me to eat in peace. After eating the first bite of egg I realized how hungry I was since this morning. Looking up, I notice my mother sending daggers with her gaze.

“You're difficult, Mia,” her eyes shout at me. I can almost hear it .

“See, I knew it would work out,” Kiara whispers to me with a sly grin.

“Um, yeah.” I try to put on a brave face. “Maybe, maybe it will,” I say as convincingly as I can.

This day definitely turned out to be more surprising than I thought.