Chapter 3

Ares

I don’t know why, but she doesn’t like the food my staff has made. Thought it was perhaps a stupid diet thing to stay skinny, not that she needed it, but from the glimpse of terror I saw in her hazelnut eyes when I called her out on it, it had nothing to do with that.

Even if I’ve been acting like a jerk all day, watching her starve herself isn’t something I want. She seems to have a unique relationship with food. I should have investigated that part of her too. I’m the only one to blame if my own wife can’t find something to eat in her new home.

My fifty-year-old cook, Larry, raised a brow when I told him what Mia wanted to eat. He’s pretty sensitive to people not liking his food, but since I was the one standing in front of him, he got to work as quickly as possible.

And I gotta say, I was relieved when I saw her take her first bites. It had been hours since the wedding, probably more since she last ate breakfast, and fuck, I shouldn’t care, but it didn’t sit right with me to see her like that. I’m not an emotional man. I kill, torture, hunt, and traffic guns and drugs for a living. Being emotional isn’t part of my everyday life. I gotta be strong and steady to lead my brothers and my city.

But there’s something about her, which is why I accepted the deal. Mia’s different; she isn’t afraid of me like most women. She holds her ground, and I respect that.

Dinner is taking way too much fucking time and I don’t know if it’s the anticipation of getting in bed with her or knowing that I still have a shit ton of work to do tonight but I order Maria to bring dessert.

It’s a massive three-level wedding cake with white cream and chocolate stuff decorating it. Larry has outdone himself. From the wide eyes of Mia, and as much as it pains me to say it, her cute as hell smile, I get she likes the sight of it, but when I look down at her thighs brushing mine, her hand fists her dress.

Alright, I think I’m getting to know a few more things about my wife. She likes to put on a show for people but her body seems to betray her when she’s stressed or afraid .

What is she afraid of? The food?

Could it be a thing?

I don’t want her to panic again, so before the waitress starts to cut it, I walk back to the kitchen myself. Even with a house full of staff today, only for today ‘cause apart from Larry and Maria, I fucking hate having folks around my home, I still like to do a lot of things myself. My dad always taught us to know how to do things ourselves, me and my sister, before we got any help. I wasn’t born in poverty, but I definitely wasn’t born with as much money as I have now. I’ve worked hard to get there and make my father’s club a true powerhouse.

I don’t give a fuck if people notice me leaving. Perks of being the boss.

What could she like?

Trusting my instinct, I grab a bowl and fill it with berries I find in the fridge. She likes vegetables; I guess there’s no reason she won’t like fruits. I don’t put anything on it when I remind myself how specific she was when she asked for no salt or oil. I wonder what that was all about. Coming back to the dining room, I put the bowl in front of her, no questions asked. If some folks’ gaze lands on her, they look away quickly because gawking at my wife is a mistake they know they can’t afford. Her body stiffens next to mine and I can feel the eyes of her little sister on me.

“Why would you give me this?” Mia whispers.

“You’re telling me you were about to eat this cake?” Watching a blonde waitress cut the big white thing and serve it to the guests.

“It’s beautiful, and it looks so delicious. It’s actually sad we have to eat it… It’s so pretty,” she says with a fake smile, her pupils getting bigger as she keeps on lying to my face.

Oh, Mia. If only she knew how used to people trying and failing to fool me I am.

“Answer the question.” I lean back in my chair. This isn't a big wedding; there’s about forty people in the room, only close friends and family, but that's enough noise to cover our conversation.

“It’s a beautiful cake,” she says, but I cut her off.

“Cut the crap.” I point with my index finger. “If I were to give you a big large piece of it, would you eat it, princess?”

A shadow passes on her face, breaking her happy mask for a second. Then, she surprises me by shaking her head discreetly instead of snapping at me.

So no cake. I knew it.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, “for this.” She makes a motion with her chin toward the bowl.

“No problem. Next time you need something, just spill it out. I’m not a fucking mind reader,” I say more harshly than I wanted.

What is wrong with me?

She’s clearly in distress. Why do I have to expect the worst of everyone all the time?

Not everyone has two sides.

But she doesn’t answer back. She’s feisty, but she loses her sass when it’s about food. Interesting. I wonder where this comes from. She picks at the berries, eating them slowly, studying each bite before eating them. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, trying to decipher the puzzle she is. I don't miss how her mother stares at her, twisting her mouth in a disgusted way.

Why is she looking at her this way?

Once everyone’s done with dessert, I’m ready to call it a night. But I stop myself when I notice Mia’s father, O’brian, standing up, raising his glass.

Here we fuckin’ go. A useless speech for a fake marriage.

His wife, a Mia look-alike with less class and no charisma, stands next to him. She’s got red hair too, but it doesn’t look as natural as Mia's, hers is disciplined and sleek while my wife’s curls bounce on her shoulders like she’s been running before getting there. Her posture is stiff, too thin to be healthy, and her fingers are laced in front of her stomach like a first lady. Composed, in control.

The room takes a few seconds to fall silent. I have to say, leadership has never been a natural skill of his. He’s the kind of guy who likes to play tough but isn’t truly capable of it. He just enjoys the spotlight and the power, but he doesn’t know how to lead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate the union of my daughter, Mia, and her husband, Ares. This marriage signifies not just the joining of two individuals but the merging of our families, our legacies, and our futures.” He smiles, palms joined.

Yeah, sure . I chuckle. The nerve this guy has. He’s crippled with debts, no wonder he's trying to make us look like family. Fuck him . The only reason he’s still standing there alive is because his daughter saved his ass. It was this or his body dead in the club basement for betraying us by talking to the Italians.

“Mia,” his wife continues, Amalia, if I remember correctly, her voice dripping with false admiration. “From a young age, you were already the image of calm and strength. What an honor it has been to see you grow into such a wonderful and sweet woman.”

Calm and sweet?

Has she talked to her once?

“Ares, in the name of my family, we trust you with what’s most precious to us.” She purrs. I can’t put my finger on it but something’s off.

I glance at Mia and find the answer I’m looking for. Pure anger fills her brown pools, clashing with the small smile frozen on her face. Her eyes are fixed on her mother, pupils fully dilated like a prey would in front of a predator.

Alert, ready to react, on her guard.

Her fingers grip the edge of the tablecloth, the tension in her body barely contained. I notice the slight tremor in her hand and the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. It’s clear she’s trying to maintain composure, but it looks like a shitstorm of resentment.

What’s going on with her parents? What did they do to her?

O’brian talks again, ending the speech with empty platitudes and shitty praises. He’s playing the good father part, but Mia’s reaction tells me a different story.

She’s not buying it. Not a single word.

I lean back in my chair, my eyes flickering between Mia and O’brian. Never trusted the guy, never will. He’s never heard the words loyalty or honor in his life.

Her parents raise their glasses, and the room follows suit. I keep my gaze fixed on Mia. She raises her glass mechanically, her eyes never leaving her parents. There’s a coldness in her gaze, colder than what I saw from her since this morning. She’s not here by choice, but there’s more. They did something to her, otherwise she wouldn't act like this.

I’ll find out, and I’ll make it better.

Whatever she’s afraid of.

I’ll make it go away.

What?

You just met her, don’t get ahead of yourself.

Once we’re done listening to bullshit speeches and congratulations, I take Mia’s delicate wrist in my rough hand, and angle my head toward her.

“Alright, think we’re done now.” I sigh, forcing her to stand next to me, my brothers match us waiting for my orders.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming today. Mia and I appreciate you being here to celebrate with us,” I say, more for my brothers than for her clan, my deep voice echoing across the room. “We’re leaving. The dance floor’s open for those who wanna party. The rest of ya, have a good fucking night.” I nod at my men and they nod back, showing their respect. Vox taps my back. “Was nice to meet ya, Mia,” he says to her. “Good luck,” he murmurs to me with a sly grin.

“Fuck you,” I fire back with a chuckle. It’s good sport. I gave him hell a few months ago with Rose, won’t say I didn’t deserve it. As we head toward the stairs, my men surround me, patting me on the back and shaking my hand.

“Congratulations, Prez,” Shadow says to me, his old lady, Erin, right behind him.

“Thanks,” I reply, my tone curt. I’m not an emotional guy, but they know that already. No one knows me better than them. They nod to Mia, then take the exit, and I hear the roar of their Harleys, disappearing into the night one by one. That’s the thing about my men—they know when to show respect and when to get the fuck out of my way. Right when I reach the stairs, Mia’s arm pulls toward the opposite side.

“Actually, I’m going to stay and dance with my sister,” she says, her body already turning back into the room. The dance floor is quite small, considering it's our living room, but a few people are already dancing.

“Don’t think so.” My hand is still gripping her wrist.

“Are you seriously going all caveman on me right now? It’s my wedding. I’m going to dance with my sister and get drunk until I don’t remember you’re the one I married.”

Ouch.

“No.” Her eyes flash with defiance as she tries to pull away, but my grip tightens. I pull her closer, our faces inches apart. "You’re my wife now, Mia. You go where I go."

“Don’t think so, big guy.” Her sass is back where she left it, her gaze determined and confident. I've never hurt women in my life and I never will, so I let her go.

"You’ve got one hour,” I inform her, nodding slightly, hoping she’ll get the warning in my voice.

“And if I don’t obey?” A light chuckle comes out of her full lips. Damn it, they are suddenly too distracting.

“I’ll come drag you out myself in front of everyone. And don’t test me, Mia, ‘cause I fucking will.” I don’t know why I’m so stubborn about her coming with me, she has a right to have fun with her sister. But for some reason, I want her to come up, even if it’s to fight some more.

Shaking her head with a loud exhale, she puts both hands in the air.

“Okay, one hour, but you’re seriously mental. It’s the 21st century, Ares, not the medieval ages.”

What in the? Mental? No woman ever talked to me this way, not even my sister.

Keeping my composure from a decade of training, I answer back as calmly as possible. Don’t want her to see how much she gets under my skin.

“I’ll give you a free pass on this one, but I expect respect from now on when you address me.” This would make any of my brothers shit their pants but the little burgundy creature in front of me looks completely unfazed.

“Wow, um, okay,” she says with a small laugh.

She’s laughing now? At me? For fuck’s sake.

“I’m gonna go now. Have fun upstairs waiting for me.” Then, she turns her back on me right after blowing me a kiss in the air.

What the actual fuck ?

Vox would be dead laughing right now. I’m used to being respected and followed blindly. This, her, it’s…infuriating.

She’s infuriating.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I gather myself and walk upstairs.

This wasn’t how I'd pictured our wedding night.

Mia

He’s a caveman.

A total control-freak who expects me to answer to him like one of his men.

Nope. Never. That’s the only thing I have: my strength and my sass. And if he thinks he can somehow tame me, well, it will be a delight to show him how wrong he is.

I've spent enough time under the scrutiny and control of others in my own home to let a stranger dictate my actions today.

After dancing like crazy with Kiara on 2000s pop hits I requested from the DJ, I finally say goodbye to my family. It’s about midnight, and the thought of saying goodbye to my sister suddenly makes me want to cry.

“Remember to behave,” my father warns me, patting my shoulder awkwardly. His speech is still echoing in my mind like a joke. “Don’t act difficult with him, he won’t like it and a lot of potential business deals depend on it now. We could develop new partnerships with the Raven Sons, so don’t mess this up.”

My mother approaches us, her bony figure reminding me of a ghost. “Of course she will mess this up, honey. Mia’s never done one thing right in her life,” she says casually, narcissism pouring out of her, and the sad thing is that I'm not even surprised at her remark. Habits, I guess.

“I’ll try my best,” I say with a frozen smile. There's no point fighting her, I've learned this lesson a long time ago. My mental health is worth more than trying to reason with her.

“You’re out of your depth, sweetie, but that’s alright. A man like him will surely know how to handle a girl like you.” She cups my cheek in her cold hand. Gentle yet lethal.

To anyone watching us, this would look like a sweet moment between the parents of the bride, but here, with them, all I can think is how grateful I am to finally be away from them. They never treated Kiara this way, thankfully. But I had the special treatment. The be-perfect-or-you-won’t-eat-tonight kind of treatment. It was always about staying put, being quiet, and fading in the background. Saying I was neglected would be the understatement of the century. It was never home. Our house has always been a cold place I never wanted to come back to.

The only thing making me stay and not run away was Kiara. Her sweet and kind nature, like a balm on all the twisted things my parents ever did to me. They never mistreated me in front of my sister, they kept it for the three of us. Our own little bubble of emotional abuse. Little remarks after I ate, comments on my body, gaslighting me about something I had supposedly said days ago and that had embarrassed them.

The list goes on.

We had money, domestics, and all the things money could buy. But love and warmth wasn’t part of it. At least not for me. The only comfort I got was watching them take care of my sister, listening to her, asking about her day. She bloomed into a beautiful and smart woman because she had been given the opportunity to have a childhood where she didn’t have to survive and dissociate herself to grow up. I envy her sometimes. It must have been great.

To feel loved. Unconditionally.

I’ll never get to experience it, but it must be nice.

“Where’s Kia?” I ask them, shoving away their remarks. Stepping back, my sister approaches me, and I sigh of relief knowing she hasn’t heard a word from my discussion with my parents. She gives me a sympathetic look, squeezing my hand before letting go.

“It’ll be okay. I can feel it. And if he sucks, then you’ll come back home, alright?” Her brown, honey eyes are full of love. I plaster on a fake smile for her, because she has no idea that what she calls home has never been a refuge to me.

“Thanks, Kia. Call you tomorrow. We still have to find you the right dress.” I switch the topic to her outfit for the Angel and Snowflakes ball at her high school.

“Don’t tell me, it’s in one month. I’m stressing out, dude.” She dramatically takes her face in her palms.

“Chill, I have a few ideas. I'll tell you tomorrow, okay?” I hug her tight because she’s my favorite person in the whole world. “Gonna miss you so much.”

“Love you, sis,” she whispers, only for me to hear.

“Love you, Kia,” I whisper back.

I watch them go until the door closes, and I turn to the stairs, the music still blasting behind me with a dozen people on the dancefloor. Mostly from Ares's club.

Taking a deep breath, I head upstairs, every step a reminder of the new reality I’ve been thrust into. My heels click against the polished wood, the sound echoing in the silence. As I reach his bedroom, well, our bedroom, I pause for a moment, composing myself before opening the door.

Stay strong, hold your ground, and don’t let him walk all over you. Don't let this new home be like the one you had.

Turning the doorknob, I silently pray for him to already be sleeping so we don’t have to talk or pretend this is normal. But I see his muscular body sitting on the bed, eyes locked with mine right as I enter the dark room. He kept a light on his bedside table, making the room dim with a soft glow. He’s only wearing gray sweatpants. His chest is bare, filled with tattoos of skulls, flames, and words I can’t read from here. There’s not a single inch of his chest and arms that doesn’t have ink on it.

He looks…good. Really good.

“Right on time.” His raspy voice fills the room. I don’t answer him. I’m still shaken by the words of my parents downstairs. Walking toward the bed, I rest a hand on my hip, watching him feast on the tight dress hugging me in all the right places.

“Why did you marry me?” I have to know, and I won't beat around the bush. He could have asked for money, men, and weapons.

Why me?

“Get in bed and sleep. I’m tired and I got shit to do in the morning,” he grunts.

“Why. Did. You. Marry. Me?” I say louder, my tone more confident.

“It’s good for business, that’s why,” he mutters before lying on the bed, his forearm behind his short chocolate hair.

I wonder how it would feel to run my fingers through them.

I shake my head. Ares’s got twice the number of cities my father has. His club is more powerful and influential than our family. It just doesn’t make sense. But it’s late and I’m exhausted. So I enter the bathroom, already starting to relax with the marble and my favorite skincare all around me.

My plan is simple. I’m going to pretend to fall asleep while keeping my body as far away as possible. Once I’m sure he’s sleeping, I’ll sneak out of the room and spend the night by myself in one of the guest bedrooms on the same floor. He threatened to come and get me during the night, but I bet he was bluffing. I don’t have the energy to argue now, so I’ll just pretend to fall asleep next to him.

After finishing up my twelve-step ritual, I take a nice long shower and then put on my comfiest neon green PJs. My favorites. They even have feathers at the end of the sleeves. Adorable.

“What the fuck is this?” Ares growls at me when I open the bathroom door.

“My PJs, duh.” I circle the bed and sneak in as far from him as possible.

“Can’t you wear normal stuff?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

“This is normal stuff,” I fire back.

We both lie there in silence for a few moments. I wonder if he’s going to call out the elephant in the room. I know I definitely won’t be the one bringing that up. Not that I’m afraid of him trying something without my consent, but it’d be great to make things clear.

“Are we doing this?” he asks, looking at me.

“What?” I arch a brow.

“This.” He points his index finger toward me and then to himself.

“Absolutely not,” I stare at him hard.

“Thought so.” He chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” Looking back at him, anger sizzles under my skin.

Rubbing a hand on his mouth, he grunts, “A man's gotta eat, that’s all.”

“Well, eat at a different dinner because this,” I mimic him by pointing at him and then at me with my index finger, “isn’t happening. Ever.” Then I pull the cover up to my chin.

“Alright, alright…then goodnight, princess.” His voice is soft and surprisingly warm.

God, why is he calling me this nickname? I’ve known him for less than a day, and he already has a nickname for me.

“Goodnight,” I reply, as cold as ice.

The air in the room is suddenly heavy, and my PJs are making me sweaty. As much as I act as if it was annoying to share a bed with him, I actually kind of like it. Falling asleep is the worst part of my day. My brain rewinds everything I ate and it drives me slowly insane, keeping me up at night trying to count the calories I should aim for the next day. So, focusing on him instead of food is actually making me feel way better right now. I can’t remember the last time I went to bed without staying stuck like a broken record.

Minutes tick by, and I relax a little. I try to stay awake and wait for his breathing to slow down before making sure he’s completely asleep. After what feels like the thirty longest minutes of my day, I open my eyes, glancing over at him. He’s asleep, his jaw clenched. The muscles in his arms are taut, the tattoos on his skin shifting with every tiny movement.

In another life, I can’t say I would complain about lying next to this handsome man .

Quietly, I slip out of bed, careful not to make any noise. My outfit seems to glow in the dim light, contrasting with the dark room. I tiptoe toward the door, glancing back once to make sure he’s still asleep.

I step into the hallway, closing the door silently behind me. The relief is immediate, but so is the tension.

I didn't notice how hot it was in there, or was it just me?

Walking inside one of the guest bedrooms, I lean against the door, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s a nice room, with navy blue sheets and light velvety curtains, but as soon as I crawl into the cushy bed, I can’t help but feel alone. Tugging the cover over me, I close my eyes and my mind drifts to the brutal kiss we exchanged today. It was intense. That’s the only word coming to my mind. Never in my life had I been kissed this way. After reminiscing about my day and the calories I ate, I hear a light noise in the distance, but I’m already drifting into sleep, the sound echoing far away.

Ares?

Ares

I’m not gonna lie, it was kind of adorable to watch her sneak out like a little mouse thinking I was asleep. I had a lot of work to get done in my office anyway, and night is usually when I’m most productive. It’s quiet, and I can hear myself think. I took a nap and woke up at two AM to get to my office downstairs. Stepping outside the bedroom, I walked directly to the guest bedroom, where I knew she was.

Watching her from the door, I froze. Her brows were furrowed, her body shivering, most likely in the throes of a nightmare. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want my wife, no matter who she was, to be afraid.

I took her in my arms as gently as my large palms allowed and walked her back to our bed. I didn’t know if she was aware of what was happening, but her body relaxed instantly in my arms, her head nestling inside the crook of my neck. Her cinnamon scent hit me like a sudden wave of comfort.

I laid her on our bed, the moon cutting through the window, casting a glow on her face, illuminating her like a painting. Her lashes rested against her cheeks, and her lips, slightly parted, were like a fucking perfect, peaceful bow. I tucked the sheets around her, and as if she knew she wasn’t alone anymore, her body stopped shivering and melted inside the mattress.

“Night, princess,” I whispered and walked away to my office.

At least work would keep me away from thinking about the goddess sleeping in my bed.