Bound by Flames

Book 2 of the Raven Sons

An MC Club Romance by

Cassie Kellergan

Copyright © 2024, Cassie Kellergan

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission from the author, except for brief quotations in reviews or commentary as permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, people, or places are purely fictional. Names, characters, and places are products of the author's imagination.

This book is exclusively available on Amazon.com. Unauthorized distribution on other websites will result in copyright claims and potential legal action.

Cover Design by Cassie Kellergan.

@cassiekellergan.author

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”

-         Edgar Allan Poe

Author’s Note

Dear Reader,

Bound By Flames is a standalone romance and can be read on its own, but I recommend starting with Book 1, Whispers of Fire, if you want to fully experience the love and found family of the Raven Sons. This is an MC Club romance with topics that may trigger some readers. It contains mentions of eating disorders, panic attacks, physical and emotional abuse, trauma from child neglect, swearing, gun trafficking, drugs, morally gray characters, and captor/captive elements.

For my closed-door readers: I chose to include a few cutesy scenes for the purpose of Mia and Ares’s love story. However, these moments remain brief and fade-to-black quickly. Rest assured, I have kept things intentional and discreet.

The men in this series are anti-heroes, striving to exist between the light and the darkest parts of themselves. Please remember, this is a work of fiction. If you ever find yourself in similar circumstances in real life, please seek help.

Fictional men belong in fictional stories.

You've been warned ❤️

Cassie

Prologue

Ares

4 years ago,

“You THINK I'd be crazy enough to get your child in ME?” She laughs at my face, pointing at herself with her shiny black nails, and her long jet-black hair bounces on her shoulders.

“Iris, the fuck you’re saying?” My heart is racing so much, I’m afraid I’ll have a fucking stroke.

“Use your brain asshole, this baby isn't yours! I'd never let your fucking child grow in me.”

“What?” I ask as I watch my seven-month-pregnant girlfriend grab her handbag in the entryway.

“I'm done with this. I thought you'd spoil me more,” she says. “The only reason I agreed to this stupid deal anyway.”

“What deal? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I seriously can’t believe you haven’t seen the resemblance with my uncles. Shit, you’re so pathetic.” She shakes her head. “I’m the niece of Allen Farrow, the prez of —”

“The Canyon Raiders,” I finish her sentence, my guts torn upside down.

“Yeah, I'm one of them. My uncles thought we could destroy you from the inside. Well, I'm bored and I want to go back home now.”

“Your fucking with me, right?” She smiles at me, the devil painted on her face.

“Oh, look at you, all sad and confused. Little Ares needs a hug?” She laughs some more. She has two sides: one that’s nice and docile that she fed me for one year, and one I'm discovering now. I don’t love her but I thought it was going well enough. She has her life, I have mine, and in the midst of this, there is our kid growing in her belly. A belly I used to put my hand on at night when she was asleep ‘cause she didn't like me touching it, and I'd tell the little one about the things we would do once he'd or she'd be here. I'd tell the kid I loved him already, like a fucking softy. She’s from the other side and I never even thought of it once.

And the kid, fuck, the kid isn't mine.

I sit on the doorstep, my guts and my chest so fucking empty. I thought we'd had a kid, thought I'd become a father, yet all my hope disappears in the cloud of dust filling the driveway from her car leaving.

I should have listened to my father.

I’ll never make this mistake ever again.

Chapter 1

Ares

Present day,

Business before women.

That’s the ultimate rule to follow if you want to lead without holding yourself back with fucking feelings and distractions. They’re all the same anyway: pretty smiles, sweet words, and lies wrapped up in silk.

Whatever she tells you, however she acts, keep her away at any cost.

People stand at the sound of the organ. The room is packed with my men and her clan. Too many fucking people I can’t stand in the same room, ready to light up like a match in a pool of gasoline. The two large doors open, and I cross my inked hands behind my back, the suit tightening with my muscles underneath. A silhouette walks to me as the music fills the room and murmurs disappear into white noise pumping in my ears with each step she takes toward me.

She’s a payment.

A chess piece.

A woman I’m collecting just to quench my curiosity.

With her father, O’brian, by her side, she stands next to me with long hair the color of fire, a mouth fuller than I had ever seen, white silky fabric falling on her body, giving nothing to the imagination. And a waist the width of my hand.

I fucking forgot how to breathe for a sec.

Her father gives me her hand, and I try to ignore the jolt of electricity coursing through me at the touch of her creamy skin. Locking my eyes with hers, I find nothing but pure anger in them. A sight I’m all used to seeing by years of being the head of the Raven Sons. Letting his daughter go without a damn word to her, we both turn to the Priest, and I can’t even fucking remember what he said ‘cause I’m too damn focused on the woman standing next to me. Her scent hits me with spice and cinnamon, unusually warm and addictive.

The Priest shifts to me, nodding slowly. That’s my cue. I grab her wrist, forcing her to face me, careful not to take her hand because this isn’t fucking sweet or real. Looking at her endless lashes from above her, I repeat the words after him, trying as hard as I can to remind myself that those words aren’t true.

“I, Ares Jake Malone, take you, Mia Elisabeth O’brian, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” My voice is low and raspy as I look at her,  her heartbeat quickening under my fingers.

“I, Mia Elisabeth O’brian, take you…” My jaw clenches at the sound of her voice, deep and sultry. It has a distinctive, almost raspy quality. Her tone is smooth, confident, and for some reason I like knowing how pissed she is. “Ares Jake Malone, to be my husband.” Her face turns a light shade of blush when she ends the vows that are supposed to bind us for eternity.

The Priest clears his throat and murmurs to me, “The rings, sir.” I don’t let her put mine on my finger and just do it myself; no time for this lovebird bullshit. Then I take her wrist again, feeling a bit of resistance, and slowly put the emerald ring I had made for her on her ring finger. She’s staring at it, looking at the massive rock I chose for everyone to know who she belongs to.

Arranged marriage or not. A wife needs a ring.

“You may now kiss the bride,” The Priest declares, way too fucking cheerful for my taste. The silence around us is heavy; everybody knows why we're here and that there’s nothing genuine about her and I standing here spilling love vows to each other when it’s the first time we’ve met.

I could have refused her as payment, and still, I agreed to the deal.

Cracking my neck on both sides, I clench my jaw from wanting to indulge in her and push her away at the same time. I could skip that part, probably, but I’m intrigued by the small, fiery creature in front of me. This girl holds herself like a queen, not something I’m used to seeing around. That’s rare. Her wrist still in my hand, I pull her closer to me, smelling her like a lion would smell its prey before deciding if it’s ready to be captured. Her honey-brown eyes drift from my eyes to my lips, her chest heaving under the silk. She’s not backing down, and neither am I.

One damn kiss won’t change anything.

I crush my lips on her for a few seconds, our eyes staying locked and angry the whole time. When I let her go, she steps back, panting while the cheers and whistles of my brothers echo in the chapel. My gaze stays on her, giving her my hand to walk out of here. She clenches her jaw before putting her wrist in it, avoiding our hands touching like newlyweds would. Rice and flower petals hit us as we get out of the church. Once the photographer took enough pictures of us with our stern faces, I walk toward my bike parked in front of the church.

“I’m not getting on this,” a soft, sultry voice states behind my back, her beige high heels hitting the ground behind me. Turning to her, I lean on my black Harley, gawking at her silhouette.

"Yes, you are," I order, putting on my helmet before straddling my ride and tilting my head toward her. She huffs, her eyes flashing with that fiery defiance that made me forget how to breathe just minutes ago.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. I let out a low chuckle, the sound almost lost in the rumble of the bike. She glares at me for a moment longer, then reluctantly lifts her dress, revealing those long, smooth legs that would make any man fall on their knees. Putting on the helmet I've let on the backseat, she mutters something else resembling cursing. Swinging a leg across the bike and settling behind me, her body tenses. Looks like the little Irish Mafia Princess isn't used to the MC club way of life. She'll have a lot to learn.

“Hold on,” I say, sensing the stiffness of her body. She awkwardly places her hands on my sides, barely touching me. I rev the engine, the powerful roar echoing through the parking lot.

“I said, hold on,” I repeat, more firmly this time. “Or you’ll fall off, and I ain’t stopping to pick you up.” I’m an asshole, I know, but I gotta be careful. The last woman who sat on this bike took my hopes and crushed them until I didn’t even know my own name. Getting her as payment was smart to assert power over the other motorcycle clubs of the country. It made O’brian seem weak, giving me his little girl to fix his mistakes. It settled his debts, gave me a way to secure my line, and perpetuated the legacy my father had started.

With a frustrated sigh, she wraps her arms around my waist, her grip tight and wary. I can feel her body pressed against mine, the warmth of her touch cutting through the tension. We take off, the bike roaring down the road, leaving the church and the staring crowd behind. Her breath is warm against my back, each exhale syncing with the rumble of the bike. After a while, we finally reach the outskirts of the city, the familiar sight of my house coming into view.

Well, technically ours now.

The massive structure looms ahead. A huge wood cabin, made of pins and metal from building it with my own hands. It took me years to forge it until it finally was done. Figured I couldn’t live in my father’s house when he passed away so I made my own, deep into the forest, away from our enemies and prying eyes. This house was the result of blood and sweat and my chest always rose a bit taller each time I saw it.

I slow down, pulling into the driveway and coming to a stop in front of the garage. She releases her hold on me as if I had burned her, sliding off the bike with as much grace as she can muster in that dress. I watch her, the defiance still burning in her eyes, mixed with a hint of something else as she’s taking in her new home—curiosity, maybe? I had seen her house, big, fancy, over-the-top new money crap.

Would she like it there?

Why did it matter if she didn't?

I dismount and lead her toward the house, the gravel crunching under our feet. If she struggles to walk on the stones with her heels, she doesn’t show it: chin up, hands slightly trembling.

"Maria will show you around, your stuff has been brought this morning," I say blankly, opening the front door and nodding for her to enter. I never needed staff, but those folks used to work for my father, and there was no way I'd leave them without a job so I took them in. One cook. One housekeeper. It wasn't too bad actually, it made the house feel less empty when I got home after a long day. And it was convenient to have everything always ready, made it easier for me to focus on the club and spend less time managing the house. I know it's not in the typical MC club way of life to have staff but I had found this balance and it worked well for me. Other than that, my house was simple but sleek, robust and warm. Wood and metal were everywhere, furniture I had made myself when I took some time to do something else than work, which didn't happen often. I had enough money to buy myself a mansion but I couldn't care less. My house was a reflection of me and I was old enough to know there was no point trying to fool folks into portraying myself as a sophisticated man. I was rough and strong, and so was my home.

Despite being rustic, it had all the appliances needed for comfort, and even if it had nothing to do with her home in Chicago, she wouldn't lack anything here. I had made sure of that.

She steps inside, her eyes scanning the vast interior. “Okay” she says, entering the pin hallway like she owns the place. A large mirror stands on her left, the wood frame matching the tone of the rest of the house. Pictures of my brothers were displayed on the opposite wall, adding character to the house.

“Guests will be there in an hour for dinner. I want you in the living room before they arrive to welcome them,” I say, removing my jacket. The house only had one floor above with four bedrooms. I thought they'd be full with kids by that time but there were just empty rooms waiting to be filled.

One day, maybe…

“Is it how it's gonna be now? You ordering me around like a domestic?” She rests a hand on her hip.

“My house, my rules. You follow them or you get out,” I say in a harsher tone than I should have taken.

Fuck, it’s going well already.

I choose to take her in. I wanted to. I still do. But fuck, the past keeps hitting me back as I watch a new women step in my house and I guess I don’t know how to act since my last experience left me in pieces.

Perhaps she’ll be different.

Maria is waiting next to the stairs, her apron clean and her usual warm smile on her face.

“Could you show her around?” I ask her without consulting Mia. Not that there's a lot to show compare to the size of her house but still, it's good for her to know her new home.

“Of course sir. Welcome to your new home, Mrs Malone. I’m Maria, the housekeeper. Feel free to ask me anything you need.” She hesitates, but in front of the genuine smile of Maria, she turns to head up the stairs, her dress trailing behind her. I watch her go, heading to my office, clenching my fist hard.

I hope she’ll like the house. I hope she’ll love all the changes I made for her. And I hope she’ll see behind the fucking fortress, that I’m just a twisted and dark man looking for a match as wild as me.

Mia

What an asshole.

Ordering me around like a child. God, I hate entitled, self-absorbed men.

I mount the steps to the first floor, followed by Maria, who at least seems genuinely nice, which makes me wonder why the hell she would work for that man. After showing me three large bedrooms with adjacent bathrooms with high-end finishes and, well, it pains me to say it, but decorated with taste—she leads me to a large mahogany door. The house is nothing like I was expecting. It looks like a cabin where you sleep after a day of skiing. Despite being different from my fancy house in Chicago, it's cozy, warm. The wood makes everything look…inviting.

“This is yours. Your belongings have been brought here today,” she says with a warm voice before opening the wood door and leaving me room to enter first.

It's big, with huge windows that let in the last light of the evening. The view is breathtaking, as if the woods were melting with the inside of the house. A king-sized bed dominates the center, draped in rich, beige linens. The furniture is all dark wood and leather, contrasting with the feminine touches of my old girly room. Wool covers are spread on the bed, and it makes me want to snuggle with a book and stay there all day.

The view is stunning, the trees stretching out into the horizon. Maria stands in the doorway, waiting.

“Thank you, Maria, it’s…stunning,” I say, wishing I sounded less impressed. Wouldn’t want to give him that kind of satisfaction.

“Mr Malone had had it redecorated a month ago, he wanted it to be more comfortable for you.”

What?

Why would he do that? I’m only a part of a deal he made with my father? Why would he change his home to accommodate me? It’s hard to believe, especially because in the few hours we’ve spent together he’s been all but rude to me.

But that kiss…

No, forget about that, it wasn’t real.

“Mr Malone is, um,” she looks down, reflecting on the words she wants to say, “he is a good man. Not everyone has the chance to see it, but with time, I hope you will.” Nodding once, she steps to the doors opposite the bed.

“Here is the main bathroom, and this other door is your dressing room,” she says as she opens two large doors, one leading to a large sleek bathroom and the other one to a long walk-in closet.

The bathroom is straight out of a magazine, with marble floors and countertops, a freestanding bathtub, and a rain shower that looks like it could wash away a week’s worth of stress. Every fixture gleams, from the shiny, modern faucets to the polished handles on the cabinets. Soft, ambient lighting enhances the warmth feel of the space, casting a glow over the room. I could totally see myself doing my twelve step skincare routine here.

Maria gestures toward the bathtub and shower. “You have everything you need here—towels, toiletries, and anything else, just let me know.” I nod, still in awe of the room around me. It's simple, yet it looks like a mix of rustic features and comfort bound together.

“Thanks, Maria.” I’m used to expensive things and luxurious places, but here, there's nothing to envy about what I’ve always known. She smiles warmly and nods in return, then turns her attention to the closet.

“And here’s your dressing room,” she says, opening the doors wide.

My jaw drops at the sight before me. The closet is way bigger than I thought, with rows upon rows of shelves and hanging racks. It’s immaculately organized, with my colorful and luxurious clothes neatly arranged by type and color. The wall at the end of the closet is a display of my high heels, arranged perfectly as if they were on show. I step inside, almost afraid to touch anything, feeling like I’ve stumbled into a boutique when it’s actually my own wardrobe.

“This is…perfect,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Maria smiles proudly. “Mr Malone made it by himself, you know?” Her words hang in the air. Where I come from, men don't do anything themselves, they hire people to do this sort of thing. And somehow knowing that he made it makes me respect him a bit more.

“I’ll leave you to it, Mrs Malone. Let me know if you need anything,” she says before quietly leaving and letting me alone to explore. As soon as she’s gone, I walk through the closet, running my fingers over the familiar fabrics of my dresses. I glance over at a set of drawers along one wall, and when I open them, my jaw falls on the floor.

How?

My favorite candles and skincare products are stocked in quantities, as if someone knew exactly what I was using on a daily basis. Only my sister, Kiara, knows that kind of thing.

Did he ask her? I shake my head. No, that’s silly, but then, how could he know so much about my personal habits?

Closing the drawers, I wander back to the bedroom and spot my favorite magazines neatly stacked on my side of the bedside table. Glancing at the other bedside table, I only see a black notebook on it.

I realize at this instant that this is our room.

Not mine.

My heart quickens at the realization.

I’ll talk to him and ask to take a guest bedroom. There’s no way I’m lying in the dark with a stranger. Watching the clock of the drawer, I notice I only have thirty minutes to get ready. Well, I’ll take my time, give him a taste of his own medicine. I’m not a woman to be ordered around and do as she’s told.

Once I’m freshened up and looking freaking good in one of my favorite burgundy strapless dresses, I walk back to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress and staring at the ceiling. I sigh. This room is beautiful, but it's not where I belong. Remembering the reason why I'm here, I bite my lower lip.

I’m here because my father blackmailed me into it. It was either this or marrying Kiara to a dying Don of an Italian mafia, a man so old he needs assistance to eat and wash himself. I couldn’t do that to my seventeen-year-old sister. I’m sure my father could have found a way to settle his debt with Ares in a different way but he chose to offer me. As an object. A chess piece. Something you can give and take. And I had to agree to this, I had to say “yes” between gritted teeth as he was dangling Kiara’s threat over my head, my own mother completely unbothered by this fact. It's not usual for the Irish Mafia to make deals with MC Clubs but there were exceptions to the rule. And I was one of them.

Agreeing to this never meant to submit myself to this new husband I didn’t know anything of. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I'm startled from a knock at the door. I palm my cheeks, composing myself.

“Come in,” I say with confidence.

The door opens, and Ares steps in. He might me a jerk but he looks damn well in a tuxedo. A bit too well maybe, the suit clashing with his tattoos and huge muscles.

Aren't bikers supposed to be wearing jeans and T-shirts all the time?

“Like what you see, princess?” he says with a smug grin.

Oh, was I freaking drooling over him? God, Mia, get it together.

Placating a fake sarcastic smile on my face, I answer, “What made you think that we would sleep in the same bed tonight?” with a hand on my hips.  Anger pulses through me when I see an amused grin appear on his face.

Is he mocking me?

“A wife should sleep in the same bed as her husband. That’s common sense, don’t you think so?” Oh, I see how it’s gonna be. Mr Alpha male has never been told no? Well, there’s a first time for everything.

“Are you too insecure that you have to trap a woman into a fake marriage to finally get your way? Or is it too hard for your tiny ego to be told no?” I fire back. I'm not always like that, especially at home…but when my parents aren't there to humiliate me or gaslight me, I'm all sass and confidence.

"Oh Mia, Mia…” Ares walks slowly toward me like a lion. “Don’t change anything, I like my women feisty, especially my wife.” He smirks.

I scoff, crossing my arms. “I’m not your wife, Ares.” He stops in front of me, his towering frame casting a shadow over mine.

“You are my wife, Mia. Whether you like it or not.” I meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down.

“I didn’t agree to this. You know damn well that I didn’t get a say in that.” His eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. This is how it’s going to be.”  I grit my teeth, anger boiling inside me.

“I refuse to sleep in the same bed as you.” I narrow my eyes at him, standing my ground. "I'd rather sleep on the floor in the hallway than here with you." His jaw clenches hard, and a fire of possessiveness dances in his eyes.

"If you do that, Mia," he says, his voice low and menacing, "I'll pick you up in the dead of night and carry you back to our bed myself. Every. Single. Fucking. Night.” His words hung in the air like a warning, sending shivers down my spine. I swallow hard, suddenly feeling a pang of uncertainty and reminding myself who this man is.

Could he be bluffing?

He's the president of the Ravens Sons, not the average Joe. God knows what he is capable of. Ares's expression softened just a fraction, his eyes searching mine as if he could hear my mind.

"You look…” Stopping midway in his sentence, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Get downstairs. The guests should be there any minute.” His voice is colder than a few seconds ago.

As Ares turns his back on me without a word, my breath quickens, and I feel the flush of frustration heating my cheeks.

What is it about this man that is so freaking exasperating?

I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to shout after him, to unleash all the pent-up anger and defiance swirling inside me. But deep down, I know it won’t make a difference right now.

His words echo in my mind, a stark reminder that this marriage isn't going to be easy. Perhaps I should try to escape? But what would happen to Kiara? I pace the room, my mind racing with thoughts of how to resist him, how to break free from this unwanted situation. But with each step, I realize I have finally found an opponent worthy of my defiance.

This isn't just a battle of wills.

It's a war.

This is just the beginning, and I know I will have to fight every step of the way. Because Ares Malone is not a person who will give up easily, and neither am I.

-

Mia's home.

10 years ago,

“Straighter. Straighter! Damn it, why did god give me such a useless child?” My mother gasps as she tries to make me bend to her personal etiquette class she's been obsessed with lately. “Just do what Kiara would do. It’s not hard, girl!” she spits at me.

“I'm straight, Mom. I swear, I'm trying,” I assure her, fighting the tears bubbling in my throat.

“Sssh. I don't want to hear you. Now, come on. One bite after the other and do not eat like a hungry animal. Manners, Mia, manners.” She points her finger in the air as she displays a plate of beef stew in front of me.

“Mom…you know I can't. It's…you know—” Sweat gathers in the low of my back just like each time I'm about to have a panic attack.

“Enough with this eating disorder nonsense! You're not sick, Mia. You're picky and difficult. Don't try to make yourself more important than you are. Do you think a man would care about this? So stop it and eat. We won't stop this lesson until you eat your meal,” she tells me, while tears fall on my cheeks. I don't know why I've got this…thing. I’m only thirteen and still, it has been poisoning my life for two years already and no matter how hard I try, it doesn't go away.

I can't eat this. I'm going to die. It's not…it's not…clean.

But my mother doesn't care.

So I eat and I cry until all I can think of is the lack of air.

Until I can’t see or hear anything.

Until I don't even feel alive.

“You've always been a disappointment,” she says before kissing my forehead and leaving me on our dining room floor.

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.

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.

Chapter 4

Ares

It’s been two months since we got married and every night, still, Mia escapes to the furthest guest room. And just like on our wedding day, I pick her up in the middle of the night and tuck her back in our bed for her to wake up the next day.

We don’t even talk about it. It has sort of become our routine.

To be honest, I haven’t really talked to her since that day. I go to the club before the sun rises and come back when she’s already asleep. Sometimes, I come home a bit early and see her working out on a mat in the living room, but we mostly ignore each other.

Distance is good.

Distance means I’m in control.

The only time I get with her is when I hold her small body against mine at night. I lay her on our bed and tuck the cover over her. Then I go to my side of the bed, and I remain there unless she entangles herself to me during the night. I don’t touch her and I try not to look at her.

Today was a busy one. I got bad news from one of our men in Louisville. Our warehouse burned last night, and I already know who did it.

Nero.

Fucking Italian mob from Philadephia, who’s getting hungry recently. We got a few of his guys three months ago. Vox took care of them, and Carter made them talk. Nero wants to expand with drug trafficking, and he knows we’re already set up and running here. He’s trying to get us down and collect the dough as if I would ever let that happen. I’ve reinforced the security of all our other warehouses and had a few calls with our suppliers, just making sure everything runs smoothly.

It’s already late, the sun is starting to set, and I think of Mia. I know she’s got a lot of work too, clients calling her from different time zones asking for her to work her magic in a limited time. As Maria reported to me, Mia spends her days working from home, calling her sister at lunch, knitting, reading, coloring or whatever hobby she’s in the mood for, then she works out and goes to sleep. I’ve been told she doesn’t eat much, though. That’s not okay.

I kind of wish I could observe her myself, but I’m trying not to stalk her. Watching her would make me want to talk to her more, and one thing would lead to another, and I could fucking taste the bitterness of betrayal sneaking under my ribcage.

I need to stay focused right now and not get distracted by my breathtaking wife. I’m putting together a team to guard her when she goes out. It’s taking some time because we’re fucking busy with Nero’s moves and I want to make sure she’s in the best hands possible. Normally, Old Ladies don’t need bodyguards when they go out, especially when they stay on the club’s territory, but we got threats from Nero recently, and a lot of them.

Better safe than sorry.

Calling the guys for a meeting after yesterday’s event, I put Vox on a video call. He’s back in Seattle and won’t be here for a few weeks, so we’re making it work this way. The dimly lit room at the club is filled with a mix of leather scent, metal and tension. I sit at the head of the table, fucking pissed at the money we lost last night. My brothers are gathered around.

"Alright, listen up. Nero’s making moves, and we need to shut that shit down before it gets outta hand. Last night’s fire was his fucking message. Now we need to send one back." I inform them, my voice low and steady.

Shadow, with his tall figure, leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "What’s the plan?" I know they’re as angry as me. It took us fucking work to put the warehouse up and running in Louisville, and it all went in flames before we could save anything. At least we have a dozen more spread in the country, but still, I’m fucking pissed.

"We’re gonna catch any men we can from Nero’s crew. I don’t care who it is, if they work for him, we’re taking them. Carter, you’re gonna handle the interrogation. Make them talk," I order.

Carter nods with his usual face, hiding all human emotions. "Consider it done."

Vox's voice crackles through the speaker. "I've got contacts in Philadelphia keepin' an eye on Nero's operations. We can coordinate to hit them where it hurts."

"Good," I reply. "We need to make a statement. Blade, you and Tank will be on the front lines. I want you to scout our territory, take the prospects with ya, find these bastards, and bring them in."

Blade cracks his knuckles. "Got it, boss."

I know I can count on my men and it feels good as hell to know we all have each other's backs. Blade and Tanks are twins; they’re ten years older than me. They knew the club before I became prez, but still, they live by our rules and follow my command. Both used to be in the Army. Tank had shitty PTSD. He recovered but kept the discipline in him. Blade’s more wild; sometimes I wonder if he hasn’t lost the sense of fear, the fucker’s addicted to adrenaline.

Tank, his hulking frame casting a shadow across the table, grunts in agreement. "We'll get it done."

I look around the room, making eye contact with each of my men. "This isn't just about territory or money. It's about sending a message. Nobody fucks with the Raven Sons and gets away with it. We protect our own, and we protect this club.”

“Somethin’ else.” I pinch the bridge of my nose ‘cause fuck, I hate when shit gets personal.

“Keep an eye on the folks you care about,” I warn them because I know Nero doesn’t have rules like us; he’s sneaky and could probably kidnap a woman or a child to get what he wants. “Mostly women, kids. Heard he liked to bargain. Let’s not give him the opportunity.” The air thickens, turning heavy and suffocating. They all nod, their eyes hooded and determined, like mine.

“Alright. Back to work.” I tap my hand on the massive wooden table once, and the guys all leave and go back to their tasks.

I sigh. Shit’s about to get real and violent, and somehow the only face coming to my mind is Mia’s. A protective surge spreads in my chest, making me want to punch something.

I should get back home early today. Just to see her. Make sure she’s alright.

I’ll protect her and keep her safe.

Even if she doesn’t want me to.

Mia

“I don’t know about the blue one; try the red one again,” I tell my sister on the video call we started an hour ago when she asked for my opinion on a few dresses she got.

“It has to be perfect. He’s going to be there and I want his jaw to fall on the floor, you hear me? On. The. Floor,” she chants, agitating her hands while I’m laughing on the bed.

“I know, Kia, but trust me, with the red one, if he doesn’t go into a full coma, then he’s definitely not worth your time.”

“Oh my god, you’re so right,” she giggles. An unusual noise comes out of nowhere. It can only be the main door downstairs.

Could Ares be here early?

It’s been two months since the wedding and I haven’t really seen him. The only contact we had was when he took me back to his room each night, making me wake up in an empty bed every morning. I swear this man does not sleep. I never see him; he goes to work before I wake up, and it feels…lonely.

Why does he do that?

Leaving me all alone, trapped in a fake marriage with no friends or family around. They all stayed in Chicago, which is an eight hour drive. I’m lucky my sister will come visit but I don’t want her to feel obligated to do it when she could be living her life. I’m usually always around people I meet at parties. They’re not real friends, just people I like to have around me. Honestly, my sister is my only friend. It’s sad, I know, but I’d rather have her than a hundred meaningless party friends.

“Gotta go, sis. There’s someone downstairs,” I tell her, concealing my anxiety about facing Ares after so many days.

“You think it’s him?” She talks about him like an alien coming from another planet and honestly, she isn’t wrong about it. What kind of man leaves you alone all the time but still wakes you up each night to take you back into his bed?

It makes no sense.

I thought about stopping my little nightly escapes after a few days by myself but it was comforting to know that he would still come and get me.

Pathetic. I know, but it’s true. I miss talking to someone at the end of the day.

Facetimes with my sister can only last so long.

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Go ahead and tell him he’s stupid to leave you alone,” she says, pointing her index finger in the air. It makes me smile. My sister goes feral when she thinks I’m sad about something. If that doesn’t tell you how kind she is, then nothing ever will.

“I don’t think he cares enough to even listen, Kia.” My voice is surprisingly sadder than I thought. I sigh. “The red one, definitely. Gotta go. Love you, Kia.”

“Love ya,” she answers, blowing me a kiss. I end the call, and walk outside the room to the stairs in my leopard legging and pink crop top. I know they’re a bit much, but I love colors. They make me feel better. Heavy footsteps are coming to me, and before I get the time to register what’s happening, Ares stands in front of me in the wooden entryway.

I forgot how handsome he was. As if it’s even possible to forget him, but still, my jaw falls on the floor at the sight of his tall body filled with muscles and his disheveled short brown hair.

“Hey” I say, trying to keep my voice as unbothered as I can.

He drinks me from head to toe and grunts.

See? Total caveman.

“Put some clothes on and get your ass in the kitchen. I need to talk to ya,” he orders me.

“Wow, what happened to hello? How are you?” Resting a hand on my hip, I hold his gaze from the second step of the stairs. He steps closer, my shoulders stiffening all of a sudden while his massive body towers over me, his musky scent hitting me like a truck.

“Hello, wife.”

I suck in a sharp breath, the air in the room suffocating me.

Wife.

I clear my throat, my palms getting sweaty.

“I’m good in my leggings. What’s up?”

His jaw clenches.

What is wrong with the way I dress? I like funky clothes, sue me.

He doesn’t even answer me; he just turns and heads to the kitchen. Deep mahogany bleeds all over the place with steel appliances. It’s not as big as the one I got back in Chicago, but it’s cozy, warm, and there’s everything needed to cook.

“Sit,” he orders, showing me the stool next to the big island. A metallic light fixture towers over us, creating a warm ambiance around us. I walk to it, but instead of sitting like he commanded me, I stand next to it, unwilling to obey him like a puppy.

“Do you always do that? Boss people around as you please?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“It’s my home, ‘course I do as I fucking please.” He mimics my posture.

“Well, as far as I know, it’s my house too now, and if you think I’m gonna follow you around like—”

“Mia.” He shuts me in, resting his elbows on the counter in front of me, his muscles threatening to tear his black shirt apart.

Stay focused, Mia. He left you all alone. He doesn’t deserve kindness right now.

“I wasn’t done.” Locking my eyes with his emerald ones, I watch his gaze widen at my answer.

Yeah, he isn’t used to people pushing his buttons, well nice to meet you, big guy.

“You can order your staff around all you want, act like the king of the castle at your club, but here, in this house, with me, you can keep your dickhead attitude and shove it up—”

“Careful, Mia…” His lips rest in a thin line as he frowns.

“You left me all alone.” My tone is full of resentment and a hint of sadness.

“Wha—” Furrowing his brows.

“YOU. LEFT. ME. ALONE,” I say louder, putting both of my palms on the counter, anger coursing through me like a waking volcano. The silence in the room is crowding the air like a toxic substance about to suffocate us.

“I didn’t think you’d want me here.” His voice is low, as if he was taken off guard.

“What?” It’s my turn to be startled.

“You’re telling me you wanted me here, princess? Really? When you’ve been escaping our bedroom every fucking night since our wedding? C’mon, give me a break.” He shakes his head while my cheeks turn a full crimson shade.

Yes, no, I mean, I didn’t want to see him but at the same time, damn it. I didn’t think I would be alone here all the time. I thought he would come back and, I guess, talk to me. Is it that crazy to expect your fake husband to have a conversation with you every now and then? And I want to go out, go to the mall, grab a matcha latte, but how can I do it without bodyguards? I expected him to give me protection by now. I was raised the daughter of the head of the Irish Mafia. I never had the luxury of security, if he doesn’t give me one, then my life ends at the doorway. Or maybe wives of MC club presidents don’t need security, what do I know? Everything seems so different here.

“It’s not—” Shutting my eyes for a second, I gather my thoughts. “You haven’t given me any protection. I can’t go out and risk getting shot, Ares. I don’t know anyone here, but I’m gonna die of loneliness if you keep me in here like a damn damsel in distress. I need to see people. I need company. I need to go out.”

“Out?” He lifts a brow while I try as hard as I can to ignore his handsome ice-cutting jaw and light stubble.

“Yes, out. I can’t stay here all day. I’d lose my mind.” I raise my palms on both sides of my face.

“I don’t like you going out of the house,” he mutters blankly.

“Yeah, well, big news, I’m not a piece of furniture you bought and can keep in here forever. If you don’t let me out, I’ll go by myself and good luck finding me then.” Rage takes over me. I don’t plan on escaping, but if he doesn’t give me the option, I will.

“Listen to me, Mia.” Ares' low tone hits me right in the belly, his body moving toward me until his hand grabs my wrist gently, just like on our wedding day.

“You try running away… I’ll catch you so fast you won’t even have the time to step outside the gates.” His green gaze drips into mine. “You want more freedom. I can deal with that. But escaping? Don’t even try, princess. If you want this,” he moves his index finger between us, “to work, then you better learn that I don’t go easy on people who don’t hold their end of the bargain. You married me. I didn’t have to put a gun on your head for it. So stop acting like I fucking did.”

A thousand cursed words are begging to flee from my lips, but I keep them in. He’s right. I agreed to marry him. Only he doesn’t know that I did it to save my sister. I have to stay here with him. It’s the only way to protect her. Like a bird locked in a golden cage. I sigh, thick tears stuck in my throat. I won’t cry in front of him, God, no. He doesn’t deserve to see me vulnerable.

“I told you to come here because we’re having some movement at the club. I won’t tell you much for your safety, but families might be targeted so that’s why I didn’t give you protection the past weeks.” His emerald eyes narrow like he’s coming clean from his awful behavior.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, princess, oh.” A slight grin dancing at the corner of his lips. “You’re gonna have to wait a few more days before I settle a team for you, then you’ll go out as you please as long as you stay in our territory and always with them,” he explains, flexing his hand after letting my wrist go. “It’s not usually necessary but we’re having a bit of an…issue with a gang and I can’t take any risk with you.”

Threats and gangs, words I’m all too accustomed to since my early days.

“Them?”

“At least two of my men with you at all times. It’s this, or you stay here.” I sigh. Yeah, okay, I guess we can call this a compromise. “Maybe we’ll switch to one if things settle, but in the meantime, two of them,” he explains. I nod, my gaze drifting to his large, tattooed hands.

Those hands look like they have killed a thousand men and ruined hundreds of women.

“Alright, one more thing: we’re hosting dinner tomorrow night,” he adds, his voice faltering a bit. “Just my sister and her husband, nothing big.”

“Really?” Joining my fists in front of my chest like I had just been told I would get a present. “That’s so exciting! What should I wear?”

Ares’s brows furrows, his eyes darkening on my short pink top.

“Anything else that has more fabric than this will do,” he says with a sarcastic tone.

Lifting my chin up, I reply, “You can really be a jerk sometimes, you know?” He tilts his head at my answer.

“The fuck you just say to me?” The vein of his forehead pulses with rage.

“Just saying, big guy. You should stop trying so hard. Eyes don’t lie,” I remark, punching him in the gut with my fire. I’ve seen the way Ares drinks me up from head to toe each time he sees me, arranged marriage or not, I know he’s attracted to me. It doesn’t take a lot in life to understand how lust dances in a man’s eyes like a predator ready to feast on its prey. His eyes widen slightly as if he was trying so damn hard to conceal his astonishment. Bet no one talks to him that way here.

Clenching his jaw, he gets closer to me, his scent so close I can inhale it.

“You’re right, Mia,” he almost purrs, lowering his mouth to my ear, his breath hitting my jawline and decorating my skin with goosebumps. “Watching you in those tight clothes every night makes me want to give you a burn so good you’ll forget why you were ever put into this fucking marriage in the first place.” His rough hands drift to my wrists and encircle them.

Just like on our wedding day.

I clear my throat, my mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara.

“But you see, Mia, it doesn’t matter how much fabric you’ve got on your perfect little body ‘cause I don’t plan on touching you. You’re a business deal to me. Nothing more,” he murmurs in a sultry voice hitting me right in the guts, where hatred and lust fight relentlessly.

Of course I am. That’s what you are when you get forced to marry someone else.

You’re a part of a deal.

A chess piece.

Disposable, forgettable, worthless.

I swallow hard hearing the truth I wish I didn’t have to listen out loud. No one likes to know they could disappear the next morning and no one would ever look for them. No one likes to know they are married to someone who doesn’t care about them at all. And yet, that’s my reality. I try to compose myself, removing my wrists from his hold and stepping back. My eyes lock with his, pride pouring out of my gaze as I try to ignore the fire he just set inside my belly.

“Good,” I declare with the rest of the confidence I gather in myself. “That makes both of us.”  A switch in his eyes tells me he’s not buying it one bit, but I refuse to admit it to him.

“Yeah, good,” he answers dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I hiss in a breath before turning right back into the living room, feeling his burning gaze shooting holes in my back. No matter what he says, I do have an effect on him.

Good or bad, that's what I need to find out.

Chapter 5

Ares

Those damn leggings.

I tried to tell her to change, but fuck if she’ll ever listen to me. It was hard enough to focus with her in the same room as me, but with her tight top and that sticky leopard thingy, I almost broke my back teeth from how hard I was clenching my jaw.

Fake marriage or not, my wife is a knockout. A knockout who won’t listen to me, but still. This woman doesn’t seem to care about rules and saying it’s pissing me off would be an understatement. I’m used to giving orders and getting results. Folks don’t argue with me unless they have a fucking death wish.

I haven’t told her yet that I’ve found a place for her to work near the club and I already got a crew redecorating it for her. Maybe it’s too soon, I don't know. The idea of Nero hiding in the shadows, ready to take her away, doesn’t sit well with me. Our marriage isn’t like any real one, but I still vowed to physically protect her, and I will.

I sigh, lying in our bed after eating in a deadly silence together tonight. I could tell she was studying me, as if she was trying to find the weaknesses in my skin.

She didn't eat much, either. I mean, more than the last time I saw her eat, which was on our wedding day. According to what Maria reported to me, Mia always leaves her plate full with everything cut into small bites, as if she was trying to fool someone into thinking she had eaten.

I'd drop it if it was anyone else, but I kinda wanna know why she’s got this thing with food. Mia’s fit as hell, so I wonder why she's obsessing over this. I don't like unanswered questions. Perhaps I should test her out tomorrow night at dinner, ask my cook Larry to make only one meal for all of us, and see how she’d react.

Or perhaps I shouldn't, but she did call me a jerk.

Might as well hold on to it.

Always been known in business for my ways of twisting people's minds and breaking them open the way I need them to. That's all I've ever been taught.

Kill or be killed.

Chase or be hunted.

Just because I accepted this deal out of…curiosity and to secure my line doesn’t mean that she’ll get special treatment. Being married to Mia is no different to me. I’ll treat her the same way I do with anyone I need to crack open. I’d been too soft on my last relationship. People have different faces when you push them in their corners. Mia’s must have a hidden facette too. A part of her that’s looking to manipulate me, fool me into thinking she’s keen on me.

I won’t make the mistake a second time.

I’ll crack her open soon and get my answers before involving myself too much.

I’ll follow my dad’s advice and this time, it will work. My old man did his best on his own before he left this earth for his rightful place in hell. Because there's no way folks like us get a warm seat in heaven after all the shit we've seen and done. He raised my sister and I on his own after our mom dozed off one night when I was seven and Vanessa was nine. Wouldn't say he was the best father but he did try, and for this, I'd say I got luckier than most men I know of. He was the prez of the Raven Sons, and just like him, I became the heir of the Chapter right after he taught me everything he knew about our way of life. He had three rules, and breaking the first was the only warning I knew I was ever gonna get, so I knew better than to break the others.

Business before women.

Loyalty to the brotherhood.

Fight to your last breath.

Broke the first one four years ago, held onto the second one like a damn religion, and chased the last one like a drug when each fight night was around the corner, the bell of the ring never too far, holding me accountable as the president of my club.

Consistent, organized, and always planning. Always thinking ahead. ‘Cause that's how we grew so fucking fast since I got the reigns. I always had a step ahead like a chess master, killing anyone on my way to expand, submit, and grow our brotherhood.

I had this hunger in me. This need to live so fucking much and to feel so fucking deep because I knew death was always there, glancing at me with a friendly grin, holding me company each second of my existence.

There’s no point romanticizing our way of life. It’s dark, bloody and violent.

Which brings me to why I got Mia in here today. It didn't take fucking long after the package she sent me months ago with her provocative notes and red panties to understand that she wasn't like the rest of the chicks I'd been with.

Mia’s got this fire in her I never found in any other women I’ve crossed paths with. I saw it right away when I drove to Chicago and watched her outside her bedroom window, trying on dresses one night.

I had planned to watch her, then come back to Knoxville and trade a city against O’brian’s life. He didn’t have a choice then. I could have taken his life’s work, and yet, I chose her. Because watching her from the garden, hidden in the shadows of the night, had made my heart twitch in a way I thought it would never do again.

She was in nothing more but her black lace underwear, red silky hair falling on her soft shoulders, trying on dresses, dropping them on the floor, then trying some more with fucking dubious green boas and red hats. I saw a woman playing, spinning in front of the mirror, smiling, pouting, and making the most freaking adorable poses like she was in a magazine. I thought at that moment she was too young for me. Twenty-five tops, with her round face and plump lips, but then, after an hour of digging through her closet for the most extravagant shit I ever saw, she sat on her bed. Facing the window, not knowing that I was there, a few feet away, my jaw clenched at the sight that still haunts me every night since.

She sat in her black underwear, which would make any man lose their mind, her fit body so fucking toned, with creamy skin, making me want to dig my teeth in it just to see it blush from my bites. She sighed and looked at the emptiness, her gaze drifting into a place I knew wasn’t there in front of her. She just drifted away aimlessly until her brows narrowed and her gorgeous hazelnut eyes filled with tears.

If you looked too quickly, you wouldn’t have seen the sadness painted on her face, but I did. I saw one single tear fall down her cheek until it remained on her delicate jawline. One I wished I could have erased with the back of my inked hand. I stayed there, watching her, my chest tightening and my feet fidgeting like my body was trying so goddamn hard to tell me to break in and hold her against me. Against a stranger who she didn’t know would soon become her husband.

Perhaps she was already my wife then.

Perhaps watching her break was enough for me to claim her as my own.

After a few minutes, she shook her head, her fiery curls bouncing on her shoulders like a damn goddess. She wiped the tears away, exhaled, and placated a fake smile on her face as if nothing had happened.

Then she took all of the dresses and the stuff she had gotten out, shoved them into her closet without taking the time to fold them like I always did with mine, and put on a short orange neon nightgown, leaving so little for my dark imagination, and snuck under her covers before shutting down the lights.

I thought about many things that night. I thought about leaving the shadows and breaking into her room to touch her delicate face just to see the contrast of my roughness against her sweet soft skin.

I thought about waking her and seeing how she’d react, if she knew how to defend herself and how to fight like any mafia princess should.

I thought about leaving her a note, telling her someone had been there, watching her.

My mind was scattered that night when it usually is so fucking clear that it took me off guard. Just got mesmerized by the sight of her, not just her beauty and the way her feminine curves were on fucking display like I had been giving my own private showtime.

Nah, she got me when she cried and put herself together like a fucking queen and this, damn it, this took my breath away.

So when the sun rose and I knew I had to get back to Knoxville, I stepped away from my shadows with the image of her empty gaze haunting me. I knew this look all too well because I had carried the same for so many shitty years. And for some reason, watching her broke me open that night and built me back into a new fucking person.

No one ever had that effect on me.

Not my father, not my men, no one.

She had managed to sneak into my mind like nobody had ever done before.

So I thought, fuck it, let’s do this. I shoved away the want to expand and looked at my future wife one last time. I needed retribution from O’brian anyway, might as well take what I wanted.

And it turns out, she was exactly what I wanted.

You’re securing your line, I told myself. Maybe I needed an excuse to rationalize this decision because if I’d looked too much into it, I’d see that it had no logic behind it. She had ignited a fire in me, a curiosity I needed to fulfill, even if we would never become anything resembling a real marriage.

I just needed her closer.

So I came back to Knoxville, agreed to the deal and made new arrangements for her in my home based on what I had seen from that night. Bought her new clothes and shoes thinking she would like it. I knew I wanted her to feel good here.

But I never thought she'd be like this.

Able to shake me to my core with her razor wit and breathtaking beauty. Her anger boiling so beautifully under her skin, I wanted to cut it and watch it bleed all over me, covering my ink with her fire.

My dark and twisted heart was running too hard and too fucking fast toward her, and that’s why I had to slow down. Stay away from her; stay at the club as much as possible.

Out of sight…

I had waited two months to come here and watch her fall asleep. I didn’t have to go to the club that much. That’s the thing in our business, whatever I do, my enemies will still be there when the sun rises. But with Nero around, my chest aches from being away from home that much.

Which is why I’m here tonight, my arms crossed under my head, layed on our bed while Mia’s finishing her bedtime routine like we’re some kind of normal couple.

Two months spent coming in here when she was already asleep.

Two months of picking her up at night when she escaped into the guest bedroom.

Two months of waking up to her body curled against mine as if her body couldn’t stay away from me, even when she was out.

The sound of the door opening breaks me out of my thoughts as I watch Mia getting out of our shared bathroom, head to the side, drying her red hair with a towel while I watch the smallest purple silky shorts and top float over her.

She’s not making this any easier.

“Why are you here tonight?” she asks blankly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I answer like a jerk ‘cause she has every right to wonder why I’m acting differently, but I hate when I have to explain myself to anyone. She sighs, “Whatever,” before dropping the wet towel on the back of the chair next to our bed.

My hand twitches.

“Can’t you just put it back on the drying rack?” My voice sounds harsher than it should. She doesn’t even answer me. I fucking hate a mess. Can’t she be just more thoughtful? A growl roars from my chest before I stand and quickly grab the wet towel and lay it properly in the bathroom.

Everything at its right place. As it should be.

“You’re a psycho.” She chuckles, her book open in her hands as I watch her tucked under our sheets.

Psycho?

Why am I letting this woman walk all over me?

Men would die for calling me that.

“I take it as a compliment,” I grunt, sliding next to her. “You’re messy, Mia. I fucking hate messes, so don’t do this ever again. Things need to stay in order here.”

The way I said it sounded like I hated her too.

Shit.

But I needed to get my point across, and I’m not used to coddling people.

“Is that all?” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

I sit up straight in the bed, towering over her, her body just inches away from my side. She doesn’t move, nor seems impressed by my attempts to provoke her, her brow gaze dancing on my bare chest.

“This is my home, Mia. You’ll follow my rules, and the first one is that I loathe clutter and chaos.” I notice her hand shaking slightly before getting back to normal.

Good, I made my point.

Lying back next to her, I check my phone for the latest update on the club. One text from Vox about the East Coast that I answer quickly before laying on my back, staring at the ceiling to avoid the temptation of glancing at her.

Her and her red curls I wish I could run my fingers through.

Her and her smart mouth that keeps on surprising me.

Her and her fucking annoying way of breathing when I’m trying to fucking focus on falling asleep.

Mia

“I loathe clutter and chaos.” His words, not mine.

I’ve been told my entire life that I was a mess. Not messy, not disorganized.

A mess.

As if I was the embodiment of chaos wherever I went. The messy one. That’s what my parents used to call me. It’s not something I do with intention, it’s more of a mindless behavior I’m trying to correct after years of being pointed at.

I struggle to keep a tidy place.

Eating has become a war with myself.

And relationships, well, this has been looking more like a roller coaster than anything else.

Because when you tend to speak before you think, especially in our world, men tend to run for the hills and never come back. I wish I could be the mysterious, quiet girl with a shy smile and blushing cheeks, but I’m not. Quite the opposite, actually. And it turns out sarcasm, wits, and boldness aren’t really appealing to most people. Hence why, I surround myself with carefree friendships and one-night stands with people who’ll never need to know who I am at my core. They just see a hot twenty-three-year-old with a bright smile, confidence, and the desire to share a good time. And that’s it.

Surface level, superficial, empty, quick.

Minimizing the potential messes I could do if they took time to know me.

Last chaos I created?

Easy to remember, six months ago, when a man of my father tried to pinch my ass and I landed a punch right into his nose. Kiara would have blushed, my mother would have ignored it. But my guts told me to strike back, so I did. Then I had to face the delicious consequence of my actions which was facing my father, who of course didn’t believe me, and having to apologize to the freaking guy.

Lovely, right?

I swallow hard, trying to compose myself and stay as far away as Ares as possible, which is hard given that his size is averaging a large viking.

He hates mess. He hates me.

Breathe.

He just said it.

Inhale. Exhale.

And the anger pulsing through his words got to me even as I was trying to seem above it. It’s hard enough to have him here tonight in bed with me, making me wonder why the hell he decided to change things up and come back early after two months of almost dead-bit absence. But I also have to take his remarks and try to let them roll over me even when this is triggering to me.

When people point out my messy behavior or my way of eating, it makes everything dizzy in my head. As if the air wasn’t going fully into my brain anymore. It always goes the same way: first, my fingers tingle, my chest heaves, and then white noise plugs my ears until I struggle to actually hear. Then, the last step is usually the one I despise the most. I fall on my knees and try to breathe, thinking I’m dying because of whatever triggered me, and I have to hold my throat in my hands, crying my heart out until it passes.

It always passes.

But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard.

Kiara saw me a few times like that on the floor of our bathroom. I almost always manage to get away from wherever I am to hide and have my freaking panic attack in peace. I’m not ready for Ares to see me like that any time soon, and I hope I'll keep this secret forever. No one likes to be seen as weak, especially when you have to stand up for yourself when you happen to be married to the embodiment of danger.

“You okay?” His rough voice echoes. “Where did you go?” His tone is almost worried as I drift off without noticing.

Damn it, I’ll be more discreet next time I wander in my head.

I shake my head as if it could bring me back quickly to reality.

“It’s nothing.” My voice falters a bit before looking back at my book.

Everything you touch turns to crap.

Look what you’ve done.

Shut your mouth, or I’ll have to clean up your messes after you.

The words of my mother come back, hitting me relentlessly like a wave to a shore. You got this. You’re doing this for Kiara. Keeping my gaze on my book, I sigh, wanting to seem unimpressed by him, but at the time, fighting the urge in me to beg him to stay here and not let me alone.

Pathetic, I know.

“You know what I think is funny?” I glance at him as I change the subject.

“What?” He lifts his brow.

“You keep acting like I’m pissing you off, but I think we both know you’re not the kind of guy who would be forced into anything. So cut the crap a second, honey, will ya?” I force my voice to sound as sultry as possible, catching him off guard with my boldness wrapped up in temptation. That’s what I do when I feel like someone could see what’s behind my mask. I bite them, pushing them away as my defense mechanism.

Kiara is safe as long as I'm staying here, and yet, there’s an impossible desire in me to run away into the woods of this property and disappear under the ground for no one to find me.

Running from responsibilities, from discomfort, from the promise of a life without love. And maybe I will, maybe one day I won’t be able to fight this urge and I will run away. That day, I hope I’ll be smart enough to find my sister on time and convince her to run away from this life with me too.

His body shifts until his head is resting under his palm on the side, facing me, his musk scent pleasing me more than it should. I hate that he's not wearing a T-shirt, his huge muscles on display like a martial arts fighter, and those goddamn jet-black sweatpants that should be illegal.

“You’re something else, ya know, honey?” A wicked grin spreads on his face.

Please, don’t tell me my handsome—Tom Hardy clone—viking of a husband has a thing for sass because if he does, I’m gonna be in trouble with a capital T.

I try to swallow my smile but he makes me want to laugh for some reason.

“You look good tonight, wife.” His tone is rough, like gravel. The air feels suddenly heavier. I clear my throat, but it does nothing to him except confirm that his words did have an impact on me. My fake husband is hotter than any man I’ve ever seen.

Do I like him? No.

Do I find him attractive ? Well, that’s a whole different story.

I’m only a human laid next to the god of war himself, ink running all over his chest like a map leading to the sweetest of rewards.

“Not your wife, Ares,” I fire back.

“The fuck you just say to me, princess?” A grunt roars in his chest as if he was ready to get up and fight.

Why do I like the fact that he’s a fighter so much?

I teased him about it on our wedding day but honestly, watching him fight is at the top of my list of things to do before I die. Imagining this huge man striking another dude with blood and sweat and…

Stop this, Mia.

He’s an asshole, and you must think about pushing him away rather than picturing his muscles moving when he’s in a cage. Get yourself together, for God's sake.

“You said ‘wife’. Well, I’m not your ‘wife’, Ares. Our marriage has been arranged like a business deal. There’s nothing remotely romantic about us, so you shouldn’t call me that,” I bite back, struggling to conceal the pure joy I get from getting under his skin.

Don’t start, Mia. You know he’s the kind of man who enjoys a challenge, and you just gave him one.

“Make no mistake, Mia.” His hand removes my book and sets it gently on the covers between us. Then, he grabs my wrist and rests his thumb on the inside of my skin, where the heart pounds, as if he’s assessing my stress level. My heart skips a bit at the touch of his calloused palm on my silky skin. His ink runs on the back of his hand with a skull recognizable anywhere.

“You are my wife, Mia. Mine to watch, touch, and savor. Everyone knows it, and if, for some fucked up reason, anyone tries to take you away from me, you’ll see what wrath erupts when you try to take what’s mine.” His emerald eyes shoot into mine as if he could pierce my skull with one glare at me.

“So don’t talk to me about this shit ever again. Your name is Mia Elisabeth Malone now. You’re the wife of the Prez of the Raven Sons, and I'll make sure you never forget it.”

Stuck in the headlights, I freeze.

My parents always joked about getting rid of me.

No one ever tried so hard to keep me.

“But why?” My lower lip trembles and his grip tightens on me. “Why did you marry me?” He doesn’t answer me, his brows furrowed and his gaze searching into my chocolate eyes as if he could find answers in them. Time stops as his thumb strokes my skin gently, revealing goosebumps all over my arm. My lips part as I let his tender gesture wrap me in a fleeting moment of safeness.

There’s no one for you in this world, Mia.

Broken people are meant to stay this way.

You’ll be alone, forever and always.

I wish I could say his shitty attitude is still appalling to me, that I hate him for accepting my father’s deal, and that I’m repulsed by everything about him. But since I arrived, apart from his absence, he had made sure the house and his staff were here for me in any way I could need. It’s not about being a damsel in distress, crushing on the first guy being nice to me. I got my fair share of boyfriends before him, some of them quite funny and kind as well, so no, this is not new. But it would be dishonest to say that this isn’t different. Ares isn’t a typical thirty-two-year-old with a brain and a good face. He’s more. So much more. And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t shake me.

Everything about him oozes power, control and violence. His hands are large and rough, his tall frame shaped like a fighter who just came out of the octagon after crushing his opponent's skull with his bare hands. His emerald eyes are strong and unforgiving, letting only a glimpse of humanity shine in it each time I come across his gaze. And his voice… his voice is like velvet and crushed concrete, making me want to let my head fall backward each time I hear it.

But that’s not what I prefer about him.

Nothing compares to the way his presence crowds my space each time I see him. The way he commands the room without a single word, how everyone else fades into the background when he's near. It's the way his mere existence pulls at something deep within me, something primal, something that scares and excites me in equal measure.

His aura is impossible to ignore, my body all too aware of his movement and looks. As if we were magnets, soulmates forced to be separated in another life and bound to be close to each other in this new reality without the privilege of claiming what’s ours.

“Don’t go in the guest bedroom tonight,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing slow circles in my forearm.

“I will, I don’t–I don’t want to stay here with you,” I mumble, my voice faltering with less confidence than I had before.

“You’re sure about that, princess?” A knowing smile draws at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” I explain quietly.

“I only have wrong ideas.” He chuckles darkly, making my mouth dry all of a sudden.

“Well, I don’t want you to…um…” My gaze is lost in his, while his dilated pupils drift to my parted lips.

“I’ll never take what’s not freely given, princess. Remember that,” he declares, his words echoing in me with force.

I nod, feeling so small suddenly, knowing that despite it all, trust isn’t something I should be afraid of.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.

“Work and perhaps a call to my sister.”

“You need anything, fabrics, office stuff, you name it. Just ask Maria, she’ll get it for you.” I try to hide my surprise at his concerns.

“Actually, I'd love to have a place outside to showcase the clothes for my clients and hold meetings there, perhaps hire an intern,” I tell him, taking a confident tone.

He nods with a slight smile.

“What?” I arch my brow.

“Nothing, I’ll see what I can do,” he says, looking at his thumb on my wrist, a light pink color rose under it where he strokes my skin with his working man's hands. Sighing, he lets his hand fall and turns his back on me as if I had burnt him.

“Goodnight, princess,” he grunts in a low and soft tone.

I shift to my side, turning my back on him too, still processing our conversation.

“‘Night,” I whisper before closing my eyes.

Ares Malone, who are you?

Chapter 6

Ares

Rolling up my black sleeves after changing after a day of work, I look at myself in the foot-length mirror in our bedroom. I chose to wear an all-black outfit, as always, with my silver watch on my right wrist and my tattoos decorating my neck and hands. My appearance is never something I bother about. Black is easy to wear when you have blood on your hands.

Simple, effective, practical.

Yet, tonight I wanna make sure I look good.

It’s our first time hosting together since the wedding, and I wanna see her eyes light up like yesterday when I stroked her soft skin and almost had to punch a wall not to devour her.

When she told me she needed a place to meet clients, I bit back my grin ‘cause it felt good to know I had anticipated her needs. Providing for her feels like winning a fight after three rounds when you have nothing more left in you, but still, you get to show off your winning belt to your girl at the end.

Mia stayed in our bed last night. It felt good to have her body melting against mine all night, even though she didn’t realize she did it instinctively. As if she was looking for shelter during a storm. I kept her close, rubbing her back in slow circles and murmuring reassuring words I didn’t know I had in me when she shivered a few times. We hadn't talked about it this morning when I left for work, but something is changing in the air, and I can’t put my finger on it.

She’s still getting ready in our bathroom, the two sliding doors shut, leaving me with nothing but my dark and twisted imagination as a relief.               Taking a look at my watch, I notice my sister and her husband are about to arrive.

“Mia, get in here. We’re gonna be late!” I shout.

“Not ready yet! I’ll be there when I’m done!” she shouts back, singing to the sound of trashy pop music she’s been blasting for an hour in here already. I look around and rub my forehead. Our room is a fucking mess. Books, knitting stuff and pencils are on the floor like she couldn’t decide what activity to do and chose all of them. There’s clothes everywhere, and I mean every-fucking-where. High heels spread on the floor, pearl necklaces on the back of the chair, her lipsticks are even on my bedside table and her colourful fucking tiny panties are thrown on the bed like confetti. Clenching my jaw at the chaos around me and the thought of her in those lacy things have me wanting to roar and straddle my bike just to blow off steam.

Don’t let her get under your skin.

I walk to the door, ready to go down without her. “And fold your fucking clothes, damn it !” I shout.

“You fold them!” She giggles.

Giggles.

FUCK. MY. LIFE.

Pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to gather myself, I notice a red dress in her dresser. Getting closer, I look at it. Thin straps, low cut, knee length. She’d look like a fucking bombshell in it, and I’d give anything to see that. Taking it from the hanger, I spread it in the middle of the bed, then walk to the sliding doors.

Maria is already in the entryway, opening the door for my sister Vanessa and Scott. I decided to host this during our conversation yesterday. I didn’t like knowing she felt lonely. So I called Vanessa and told her to come tonight. It’s not like me to be spontaneous, but, well, thought she might like it.

“Hey,” my sister says with a large smile as she steps inside the entryway with pictures of the club on both sides. Her short, blonde hair and navy dress look like she’s coming from a lawyer sitcom. Her husband, Scott, is behind her. The guy’s so tall, he’s almost twice her size. I hug my sister quickly and then shake Scott’s hand firmly.

“Nice to see you guys,” I rasp, and Scott nods back. He’s always been quiet compared to my talkative sister. I wonder how he keeps his calm, but they always seem good together, so I guess that’s none of my business. He makes her happy. That’s all that matters to me. Took him out of jail when he got himself involved in shitty business two years ago. I’d never seen my sister in such a crazy state. Thought she was about to rip my face off if I didn’t help her. We worked with him from time to time, but he’s more involved with classic gun trafficking, whereas the Raven Sons are expanding more on the drug aspect of the business. Vanessa never turned a blind eye to his activities and mine. She was raised by the devil himself, so she knows what’s what. Just as we’re about to step inside the main living room, I notice another silhouette behind them.

Who the fuck is this?

I told Vanessa it was a small gathering and still, she overstepped. She’s lucky she can always get away with anything since she’s my sister, but damn, I hate unplanned stuff.

“Hello,” a sultry voice echoes as I look at a tall brunette wearing a shiny green dress with a pretty good face and body. I know enough to see she’s hot to the average guy, but to me, she’s just another chick I could mix up with any other girl from the club. Lifting a brow at my sister, she answers me with a shrug and an innocent smile.

“Carolina wanted to go out, but you had already invited us, so I thought, why not have some fun all together!” my sister says as I recall the name from being one of her art colleagues. I know her too well to know what she’s up to. She wasn’t there for the wedding because of some work thing, so she hasn't seen Mia yet. She knows Mia and I had an arranged marriage, and she just wants to help me in her own way by sending one of her good looking friends my way, thinking I would find some satisfaction in it.

I get that’s a nice gesture, but for some reason, it doesn’t sit right with me to know that Mia’s going to have to spend the evening with her around.

Becoming sentimental?

I’m not a nice guy. Never been, never will be. Feelings aren’t something I’m accustomed to. It's more of a tool, a way to read people and make them do what I want. Unless they’re family like Vanessa or Vox, I never really give a shit about other folks. So I don’t know why Mia is churning so much in my mind.

Mia is your wife.

Perhaps I should have another woman just to get her out of my head.

You like her more than you want to admit.

Maybe I should just let her sleep in the guest bedroom every night.

Touching her feels like breathing again after being drowned.

Let’s see how tonight goes and I’ll plan accordingly.

You’re already in deep with her and you know it.

Vanessa is watching me with her don’t-be-a-dick look, so I glance at her friend. “Hi. Right. Nice to meet ya,” I grunt roughly, clenching my jaw at the thought of Mia’s reaction when she will come down. She’s a smart girl. She’ll see right through it. And knowing my little tornado, I don’t think I can anticipate what’s about to happen.

The girl looks at me like I’m a fucking dessert, which would have been alright with me a few months ago before having Mia here, but fuck, I want to show her the way out now. She’s hot and all, but it does nothing for me. Turning back to my sister who’s wearing a knowing smile as if she was witnessing some sort of love at first sight, which she fucking isn’t, I try to change the topic.

“How’s the gallery? Any new exciting stuff around?” I ask her as we walk to the living room with a pretty good food spread and wine glasses already prepared for us. I nod at Maria, who’s putting away the coats. It’s important to reward good staff. I’ll make sure to add a bonus to her check at the end of the month.

“Yes! A local artist is perhaps thinking about coming over and giving us a few pieces to showcase, it’s really exciting,” she says, clapping her hands, as I watch Scott looking at her like she’s a living treasure.

“Tell him about the sale, babe,” he mutters, lifting his chest proudly next to his wife. We all get served as Carolina stands way too fucking close to me, and Vanessa turns herself to talk to us, her eyes in the direction of the entryway.

“Oh yeah, the sale. It was amazing. You know, the newspaper Hurray, the one where—” Her voice stops as if someone has electrocuted her, her gaze staring at something between Scott and me.

I don’t even need to turn to know what’s struck her.

I already know it.

That’s Mia’s effect on basically anyone with goddam eyes.

“Wow,” she murmurs.

Turning to my wife, I swallow a grin, biting my inner cheek as I drink in every single inch of her.

Damn.

Walking with her blood dress on, her fiery hair on the side, and crimson lips making me want to devour her, I stare at my wife as she meanders to us with more charisma and class than a queen would, giving us the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on her.

“Hi, sorry, sorry. I was just finishing my makeup,” she chants with warmth, making everyone fall for her charms right away. “You must be Vanessa. It’s so nice to meet you.” She hugs my sister, whose jaw is still on the floor.

“Mia, that’s my sister and her husband, Scott, and that’s, um….” I trail off, motioning my hand to them.

Fuck, I forgot her name.

“Carolina,” the brunette repeats with a frozen grin, shaking Mia’s hand as I watch them silently assess each other. I’ve never seen a woman play territorial on me, but I gotta say, I don't hate it.

“Yeah, Carolina, right. She’s a colleague of Vaness’.” I give her the heads-up.

“Lovely to meet you. Looove the dress,” Mia says a little too nicely to sound honest.

“Thanks, it’s Couture. I bought it in Paris when I visited it last year with Nessa.” I reach my hand to my wife and rest it on the small of her back, ‘cause I won’t let another single minute pass without touching her. She jerks slightly at my touch but doesn’t push me away, letting my palm rest on her body while Carolina's gaze sends daggers in her eyes. Pretty sure Vanessa told her I was available.

Perhaps this could be fun.

Like I said, I like my women feisty, and watching Mia acting all possessive is going to be the end of me.

Arm's length, remember?

“So, Mia, I didn’t get to meet you at the wedding,” says Vanessa after getting herself back together. “How, um, how are you settling in?” I know she wants to know how we’re doing as a new couple, but fuck, I don’t even know myself. It took us two months to even sleep in the same bed, so I'd say we’re progressing? I observe my wife placating her face with a professional and controlled smile.

“I’m good. Ares has been, um, making sure I have everything I need. So yeah, pretty great.” Hearing her talk about me providing for her shouldn’t make my chest swell this much, and yet, it fucking does.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know my brother could be so thoughtful.” Vanessa nods, raising her brows.

“You’re not from here, right?” Carolina’s voice cuts the air as I watch her brown gaze burn into Mia’s.

What the fuck is wrong with her?

“I’m from Chicago,” Mia states, chin up from talking about her hometown.

“That’s far,” the brunette remarks.

“Eight hours away. I got there last month for business. The drive fuckin’ took forever,” grunts Scott.

“Yeah, that’s pretty far, but my sister will visit me as much as she can, so that’s still okay.” Mia explains with a hint of sadness I know I’m the only one to see.

“So, you don’t know anyone here. It must be difficult,” Caroline answers her as if the ring of the bell had rung.

“I’m not worried. I’m really good at making friends. I’m sure I’ll meet new people soon,” Mia replies with a gentle, genuine smile.

“I’m still working on settling up a team to guard Mia, but it should be done soon for her to go out safely.” I rescue my wife before this fucking woman who’s getting on my nerves pushes her too far.

My wife.

Yeah, not my fake bride, not any chick, my wife.

I promised myself not to fall for Mia, but fuck, it’s getting harder and harder as I watch her strength and classy manners on display.

A fucking queen.

“Yes, exactly. Once I get security, I'll be able to meet clients and go out more.” She locks her hazelnut eyes with mine for a second.

“What is it that you do, Mia?” asks Vanessa, and I’m glad for it.

“I’m a personal fashion consultant. It sounds fancy and all, but it’s really not.” She chuckles. “I basically choose outfits for wealthy people who don’t have the time to.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“Actually, Mia’s just graduated in historical fashion at University.” The words slip out of my mouth before I register them.

Since when have I become a proud husband too?

What’s going on with me?

“Oh, then you’ll be my next shopping buddy!” Vanessa grins, making the atmosphere less tense.

“I would love to,” answers Mia, and I’m glad to see the both of them getting along already. We finish the rest of the Champagne before Maria walks to me.

“Diner is ready, sir,” she murmurs discreetly before disappearing into the dining room I had redone before Mia arrived to make it look more, how could I say, homey?

Looking at my breathtaking, smart mouth, spiritual, knockout of a wife, I clench my jaw, remembering what I had requested of Larry tonight.

Shit, I should stop this, it was a fucking bad idea.

I wanted to test her after she called me a jerk yesterday, and now, looking at her, I wanna punch myself for it.

What have I done?

Mia

First crisis averted.

I got away with the wine and the large amount of small finger foods Larry, the cook, got ready for us. I just took one cherry tomato to not look like I didn’t eat anything but the worst is yet to come.

Clean food only.

Remember, Mia.

Follow the list.

I was eager to meet new people but I’m quickly realizing the evening is about to be as challenging as a cage fight. On one hand, I’ve got this stunning tall brunette looking at Ares like a mortal to gods, practically drooling over him. Which I can’t really blame her for since he’s indeed looking fine as hell.

And on the other hand, there is this large amount of food I’m absolutely not ready to eat, which is already making me sweat at the idea of having to find an excuse to hide and have my panic attack in peace, preferably in the empty bathtub upstairs.

Awesome, I know.

“Wow, that’s beautiful. Did you decorate it yourself?” asks the brunette, looking over the art on the walls and the massive metallic chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Ares chose to go the rustic way with this place: wood carvings, vintage photographs with the addition of modern high-hand furniture and beige velvet curtains on every window. It screams taste, comfort, and authenticity.

Just like him.

“Yeah, got a bit of help but I did most of it myself,” he says dryly. I’m glad he rested his hand on me a few minutes ago as if he was showing them we were a team and not two strangers stuck in an arranged marriage. The brunette is stunning, and even if he hasn’t been looking at her for now, I’m not sure how I’d feel about them playing cat and mouse in front of me.

Don’t get attached. This isn’t a real marriage.

He’ll never give you the love you’re searching for.

We all get seated, Vanessa and her friend on one side, Scott and I on the other, with Ares at the head of the table. Carolina is right in front of me, Ares being the only person between both of us. If I sense her foot moving toward him under the table, I’m going to see red.

No, you’re not.

Ares is an asshole. Let them play if they want to.

This doesn’t affect you.

Vanessa is still talking to her friend while Maria hurries around us. Scott’s looking quickly at his phone while Ares’s gaze burns into me, but I ignore it.

I don’t even notice how he keeps trying to squeeze my thigh under the table.

I don’t notice it at all.

I stick my legs together roughly to shove him away because why the hell is he becoming so touchy all of a sudden? I cross my fingers, hoping nobody will notice how flushed I am after his possessive touches.

Damn you, Ares.

His hands are like liquid lava on my skin.

A low growl comes out of him as if he’s mad being denied. “So, Carolina, are you still living in Knoxville?” he says with way too much charm for him to sound genuine. I’m sure as hell his sister got it too. She sounds really nice, and I wonder how she puts up with him. But then again, her husband looks like a secret agent who barely speaks, so I guess that’s her jam. The brunette lightens up instantly at Ares’s question as if his interest was all she had been waiting for.

“My family is from Kingsport, but I moved here a long time ago for work.” She glances with a smile at Vanessa. “It’s nice being around people I love, you know, to think about building a stable future, family and such.” There are stars in her eyes, as if Ares was the foundation of her five-year plan on her dream moodboard. I lean my head to the side, staring at her, observing how she dares bat her eyelashes at him.

The girl must be around thirty, or early thirties, so a bit older than my twenty-three -years-old ass, which would technically make her a more logical choice for Ares, who’s thirty-two. But somehow, the idea of them together rubs me the wrong way.

He’s not a real husband, Mia. Don’t get confused by the huge emerald on your finger.

“Yeah I see. Nice to know you’re gonna stick around,” Ares says, grinning wickedly, then glancing at me with daring side eyes.

“Um, yeah,” Caroline purrs with delight.

What game is he playing?

Is he trying to make me jealous, or does he get off on flirting with her in front of me?

I choose to take the high road and not react, keeping my gaze as cool as I can.

He wants her? He can have her.

I. Do. Not. Care.

The first meal is a light salad with a few pieces of duck I manage to push aside and kind of hide under a piece of bread on my plate. Not the most classy behavior, but the name of the game is to survive, not thrive. The salad is fine because the dressing is on the side, so I don’t have to force myself to eat it.

Green leaves are safe. It’s on the list.

Each time I take a bite, I notice Ares glancing at me like he’s waiting for me to burst or something.

What is he up to?

Vanessa is talking about a big sale at work she had to organize with paintings and sculptures coming from all over the world. I like that she's into creative things like me, even though she looks way more like an organized queen with her sleek blonde bob and fancy navy corporate dress. She’s quite nice, and I think we are going to get along just fine.

“It took five hours, I swear. The guy didn’t want us to touch his work. We had to wait for him.” She rolls her green eyes dramatically, the same shade as Ares’s in them. “Artists are no joke, you guys. Sometimes I wonder if compared to you,” she addresses Ares and Scott, “we’re not the ones dealing with crazy people.” She laughs.

“Nah, babe, I wouldn’t want you near our folks. You keep your artists just fine.” Scott grins with a tender look at his wife.

Damn, they are cute.

“Mia, would you like to come to our next exhibition in two months? I got this amazing new sculptrice. She makes wonders with clay. It’s really worth it!” Vanessa says with excitement.

In two months?

Would I still be there, or would I have indulged in the fantasy of escaping?

I feel shitty making false promises to her. She seems so nice, but I can’t reveal my doubts, so I go with my guts.

“I’d love to. We could go clubbing after.” I push further just to see how my fake husband will react. He did flirt with another woman in front of me. Wouldn’t be fair not to fight back.

You’re playing with fire.

The atmosphere shifts as Vanessa’s laugh fills the room.

“Clubbing? Have you met Scott?” She giggles, then elbows her husband lightly in the ribs. “If I want to go clubbing, I will end up dancing by myself with no one around because he will privatize the club so no other men can come near me.” Scott nods in silence next to her, his jaw flexing at the sound of his wife explaining their dynamics.

“As he should,” growls Ares, his hand turning into a fist on the table.

Cavemen.

“I’d looove to go with you, Mia. Since I’m working with Nessa, I’ll be there too,” Caroline says with a dripping honey voice that makes me want to slap her in the face. Her eyes say it all.

No, she does not give a damn about coming to a club with me.

All she wants is a bit of private time with Ares to work her charms.

I want to roll my eyes so bad it hurts. This girl is feral. Anyone with eyes can see her game is crystal clear.

“Veal stew with young vegetables from the garden fried in pork grease, as you requested, sir,” declares Maria as she serves the plate to each of us.

HE requested this?

“Thank you,” says Ares, his jaw ticking twice.

I look down at my plate with a frozen smile, my fingers already starting to tingle.

Take your time, Mia. It’s just food.

It’s just a plate with different colors and textures. Don’t focus on the calories. Don’t focus on the freshness. It’s healthy. It was homemade here. You’re not going to poison yourself. You’ll eat clean tomorrow, and it will make it up for all this sauce and oil.

It's just food.

It's just food.

It's just food.

It's just f-

“Earth to Mia.” Vanessa chuckles. "You okay, hun?”

“Yeah, I got distracted.” I shake my head, then place my fake smile back on. “What were you saying ?”

“That you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She smiles at me with a genuine soft look while Ares' gaze is snipping at me from my left side.

He knows something’s up.

And just like that, I know instantly that the sexy brunette in front of me won't be the reason my night will be ruined. It's the brown mixture staring at me, the oily vegetables and the wine being poured in my glass that will. I shake my head in response, like it’s no big deal I’m about to take a bite of what looks like the end of the world to me.

“Forgot to tell you I got myself a new ride,” tells Scott to Ares, making me glad for the change of topic.

“Nice, which one? Kawasaki? Harley?” asks Ares. The guys keep talking about motorcycles as I stare at my plate. Their conversation is still going strong while wine gets poured once again into our glasses, my stomach making a double spin at the idea of drinking even a drop of alcohol. I keep a light smile on my face. Unbothered, at peace, when I’m in fact anything but. The waves of the storm are approaching me faster than a lightning bolt. A warm hand drifts to my thigh before squeezing it once like a reassuring gesture.

Ares.

His attention and words are still angled toward Scott, but I sense his body is focused solely on me. As if he is aware of my every thought and feeling. As if he can read me like a book.

This time, I don’t push him away.

Instead, I embrace his grip, holding me firm to the earth, temporarily pushing the waves away from the shores of my broken mind. I bet any other woman would interpret this touch as a sensual attempt to bring me into his net, but somehow, I know this has nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with rescuing me from the desperation he reads on my face.

A light chuckle cuts through my thoughts as Carolina stares at me with a wicked grin. “You don’t like veal, honey?” Her voice is dripping with disdain while she takes a bite of meat and licks the brown sauce of her lower lips like a lollipop. I don’t miss the fact that Ares doesn’t give her any attention, even if she’s barely hiding the fact that she just licked her lips in front of him.

Stay above it, Mia.

“I do, but it’s not my favorite. I’m more of a sushi kind of gal,” I answer dryly. Scott and Ares have stopped their banter, the whole table focused on Carolina and I. My husband's hand is still holding the silk above my skin, creating goosebumps all over me.

“Ooh, I see. You’re scared of eating sauce and oil? Afraid you won’t fit in your summer bikini, right girl?” I would laugh if I wasn’t gobsmacked by her audacity. First of all, I believe she just called me fat, and second of all, the whole besties talk isn’t working for her. This girl is trying too hard, and I think I’m going to have to show her why I was always at the top of the food chain in high school.

“Nope, I can eat whatever. I'll stay fit. But you should be careful, honey,” I say, cocking my head with a smile, “oil goes directly to the ass.”

Her eyes widen at my answer while Ares’s hold grips me tighter. And because I’m absolutely not going to let that bimbo walk all over me, I take my fork, stick it into the oily vegetable and eat it.

Fuck my eating disorder.

Fuck her.

The moment the food touches my tongue, I know I’ve made a huge mistake and I regret it instantly.

Instantly.

Ares

Jesus fucking Christ.

I saw her distress the moment Maria put the plate in front of her. I could have stopped this, asked for Larry to fix her something quickly, but I didn’t ‘cause I’m a fucking asshole who needed to see her reaction to understand it wasn’t a one-time thing at our wedding. There’s no way to explain how gut wrenching it was to look at her doll-shaped face filled with terror, hidden behind a perfect mask. And on top of that, I had to behave like a jerk with Vanessa’s friend in front of her ‘cause I hated when she pushed my hand away earlier.

I’m the fucking worst.

It was hard enough to look at her walk to us in her stunning red dress without grabbing her nape and crushing my mouth on her. I needed to touch her at some point but her rejection made me see red.

Fucking red.

Blood and flesh and cuts kind of red.

So, I used the only weapon I had on hand and flirted with Carolina. Which wasn’t for nothing ‘cause damn, the look on Mia’s face was priceless. Turns out my little tornado is exactly as feisty as I thought. And fuck, if watching her defend her territory wasn’t a turn-on. She shut the brunette’s mouth so quickly, I’d almost laughed if it wasn’t for the look of horror she had painted on her.

I fucked up. I really, really fucked up.

Mia is chewing her bite silently, as if nothing massive is currently happening, when, in fact, I see her cinnamon eyes getting all glassy, and the hand resting on her lap is now shaking uncontrollably. I glance at her, so fucking proud she’s the kind of woman who would rather die than admit weaknesses in front of an opponent.

That’s my kind of woman.

Strong, stubborn, unapologetic.

“Vaness’, can you show Carolina the garden?” Despite her being two years older than me, I’ve always been the big brother, and becoming the President of the Raven Sons only reinforced it. We know each other; we trust each other. So when I ask her to do something for me, which is rare ‘cause that’s mostly the other way around, she does it. No questions asked.

“Sure, yeah.” I eat another bite while I keep staring at her.

“Oh, you mean now?” She glances at Mia, then me.

“Yes, now.” My tone is heavy. I want to protect Mia from getting unwanted attention.

“Okay, yeah. C’mon girl, I’ll show you. It’s cute as hell,” Vanessa says with a high-pitched tone revealing her discomfort, but I don’t care. I just need them gone. The brunette checks me out quickly with furrowed brows, but I ignore it. Don’t give a shit about her. My only priority is right next to me.

Since when?

“We’ll be right back,” I say to Scott, who nods back, sipping his wine. He won’t ask any questions because he knows better than to dig his nose in my business, but also because it’s in his nature to be private and stay out of people’s lives.

“C’mon,” I grunt to Mia, grabbing her wrist and dragging her out of the room toward the staircase.

“Ar-Ares, I can’t—” she mutters, her voice dropping twenty levels of shyness below the confident façade she had a minute ago. Clinging to my arm like a life jacket, I notice she can barely stand on her feet.

Shit.

Lowering down to her level, I swoop her up in no time, her little body weighing as much as a feather in my arms. So fucking tiny. So fucking perfect.

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

My heart skips a bit as I realize she’s hyperventilating, her cheeks flushed with a crimson shade and her shoulders trembling in my hold. Carrying her in my arms up the stairs as fast as I can, I rush to our bedroom, shove the door open with my black leather boot, and get us in the bathroom.

I want to put her in the bath ‘cause maybe that will calm her, but her little voice interrupts my thoughts as I’m standing in the room with her in my arms.

“Fl-Floor, floor,” she whispers in an exhale.

I do as she says and kneel, resting her body on my lap while I keep my arms under her back and knees, the fabric of her red dress sliding up her thighs at the motion. Her watery eyes turn into a full waterfall, drenching my shirt like I just took a shower with my clothes on.

I’ve never done this. Not even when Vaness’ had the flu back then.

I’m on the floor of our white marble bathroom, holding my trembling wife in my arms and I honestly think she might break if I move.

Should I call a doctor? Give her a cold shower? Talk to her? Call her sister? Ask Maria to bring her a glass of water? Leave her alone?

For the first time since I lost my father, I can admit without a doubt that I don’t know what to do next.

Mia

The oil spreads in my guts like poison, shutting down my lungs and my logic. A storm is raging in my mind, and I feel like the passenger of a boat that’s leaving me in the sea after someone pushed me overboard.

I’m right here, please.

I need help.

Don’t let me die here.

Only the sea is raging and I have no more energy to swim. The waves keep crashing into me each time my head gets above water. Maybe I’m crying, I’m not sure, but something is dripping from my jaw.

“Fuck, Mia,” Ares’s says with an urgency I have never heard before, pulling back the wet hair that is sticking to my face. “You okay?”

Focus on his voice. Push the water away.

“It’s–I’m okay, I’m okay,” I mutter, gasping for air, my fingers pinching my shoulders so hard I’m afraid I’ll cut myself with my sharp nails. His large palm takes my hand in his, squeezing it hard.

“No, you’re not. Fuck, you’re not okay, Mia.” His worried tone sends a slight flash of warmth inside my dying body. I’m too out to see what he’s doing exactly, but I sense his arms shifting me, and all of a sudden, I’m on his lap, straddling him, his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest, my head on his shoulder as I feel his heartbeat pound as hard as mine against my ribcage.

“I’m gonna die,” I whisper into his shoulder, the air closing down on me as I picture the oil spreading all over my throat, blocking the oxygen from coming in. Black and white spots pound in my eyes, hopelessness sinking its claws deep into my mind.

I’m going to die right here, right now, without saying goodbye to my sister.

I’m going to drown in front of him and there’s nothing he can do.

There’s nothing anyone can do.

The poison is running inside me at the speed of a horse on a racing track, making my skin itch everywhere. My senses betray me as I picture mold growing inside my guts, brain, and heart.

It’s always like that, once I feel like the food is poisoning me, then I can’t stop it anymore. My brain goes on autopilot, and imagines whatever I ate turning my insides into a swamp. Lovely, I know, but that’s just the ugly truth of my messed up eating disorder.

“You’re not going to die,” he murmurs in my ear before whispering other soothing sounds people would use on children to make them fall asleep, his hand rubbing circles on my back.

“I’m right here with ya, and there’s no way I’m letting you die. Okay, princess?” I hear him, but my brain is too focused on fighting the lack of oxygen to let his words get through to me.

“It’s too late. It’s–it’s spreading,” I manage to say, attempting to warn him that he’s about to hold a dead body in a matter of minutes.

Logic, think logically, Mia.

It’s just food.

It’s just food.

It’s just food.

“Wh-what?” He shakes his head. “Whatever. You’re not dying, Mia. I’m…damn it,” he curses in front of the mess that I am, looking into my eyes, searching for the key that would set me free.

I’m grateful he’s trying.

I’m grateful someone’s here.

Someone who doesn’t laugh at me.

“Alright, wait. Let’s try something.” Kissing my forehead roughly, his lips bring me back to our wedding day. “Picture a place, a happy place, somewhere you feel good.” He strokes my cheek with his rough thumb. My breathing is still going strong, and I struggle to hear him despite his attempts. “I don’t know. A beach, a park, whatever the fuck makes you feel good.”

I choke on my saliva, feeling green mold expand inside me so fast, I know there’s not much time left for me.

He’s wasting his time.

It’s too late.

“I c-can’t,” I murmur tears falling hard on my cheeks as I fist his black shirt so hard it tears the fabric in an irreversible way.

“No, you’re not. Fuck, stay with me, Mia. You’re gonna be okay.” His tone turns into a more commanding one, making my floating body come back to earth like an anchor grounding me.

Better, that’s better.

Listen to his voice.

Just hold onto him.

“I’m gonna breathe with ya, yeah? Deep breath, Mia. C’mon, let’s do it together.” I try my best to stay focused on him and ignore the stars shining in my vision.

Don’t let go.

Don’t let go.

Don’t let go.

“Inhale. Yeah, deep breaths, just like that,” he says, the echo of his deep voice surrounding me like a weighted blanket. “You’re doing good. Come on, once more.” I follow his command, and slowly, the storm stops raging and my body is swimming above the water. We do this five times before my hands stop shaking and my vision comes back fully. That’s when I notice how strong he’s crushing me to his chest. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

“That’s it, that’s it.” His voice hits a lower tone I didn’t know he had in him, making an army of butterflies churn in my belly for some strange reason.

He did it.

He saved me from the storm.

He stopped the poison from spreading.

I sigh loudly, biting my lower lip, my voice filled with thick tears as I let go of his shirt. His hold on me doesn’t waver, his burning gaze staring into mine. No one ever did this. All these years, I had to face it alone. Kiara only saw one or two episodes, but I always tried to protect her from this.

“Than–Thank you,” I whisper, so disappointed in myself for revealing this part of me to him. He’ll see me like this now, the weird girl afraid to die each time I eat something that isn’t on my list. A strange, broken woman. That’s all I will ever be. And it shouldn’t bother me. After all, I’m not even sure if I’ll stay here forever, but I never thought things would shift this way. That he would read my distress on my face and help me. That he knew enough to give me the privacy I needed from our guests and didn’t even laugh when I told him I was dying.

He was just here, helping me get through it.

He sighs loudly, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. “You scared the shit out of me, Mia.” His gaze darkens, and my lips part at his admission. “Don’t ever do that again.” His threat runs over me with an undertone. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one terrified tonight. Turns out we both revealed something of ourselves this evening. We stay like this for a while, his arms protecting me from the storm, until he kisses my temple with a feather breath kiss and mutters the words I'll never forget.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I made you go through this.”

Ares

“Wha—What do you mean?” she asks, furrowing her brows, her shivering body still snug against me.

“I…fuck. I needed to see the food thing,” I say, shaking my head. “To see if it was real.”

What did I do?

Her lips part, and a little “o” appears on them until her soft gaze turns into a dark one. “You thought I had an issue with… So you asked Larry to cook this, especially for—for me?” Anger and deception fill her stunning face as I sense her body pushing me away.

“I fucked up, I realize now. I didn’t know it would get that far.” I want to tell her that I did it for a reason. I wanted to get back at her for calling me a jerk.

No, shit, I’m fucking lying to myself.

I needed to hurt her.

There.

I fucking said it.

I needed to hurt her to see if I’d feel something watching her in pain. To see if my dark, twisted heart would twitch at the sight of her agony or if it would remain unbothered after years of loneliness.

And I got my answer.

So fucking loud and so fucking clear, I knew instantly I couldn’t spend another minute of my existence watching her in pain. I’m falling hard and fast for a tornado that’s going to tear me apart, and I’m not even appalled by it. I want to know every corner of her until there’s not a single cell of her body and mind that remains unknown to me. I want to dig into her like a surgeon, sew back her wounds, and kiss every scar she's ever had. I’m falling for my wife at a record speed, and I’m not even gonna try to deny it.

A hard slap gets me out of my thoughts, blood pulsing in my veins as I realize Mia hit me in the face. I don’t even turn my head, her strength too light to move a mountain like me. Instead, I bring her closer.

“How could you?” Tears build back into her eyes, filled with anger and disgust. My heart aches at the sight.

What heart?

“I fucked up, Mia. I’m sorry, really.”

Since when do I apologize to people?

Her palms push against my chest as she tries to stand up and escape my arms. I try to keep her close ‘cause I’m not sure I’ll ever stand the feeling of not touching her anymore, but her words break through me like daggers.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” she says between gritted teeth. And at that instant, the floor disappears under me, watching her stand up as I’m still sat on the marble of our bathroom.

“Mia.” Standing up and walking toward her, “You gotta see a doctor.” No fucking way I’m letting my wife go without medical care after her panic attack.

She shakes her head. “I don’t need to see a doctor, Ares. What I need is to be as far away from you as I can.” Her words slap me right in the face. She turns toward our room, grabs her orange nightgown, and disappears in the hallway.

I turn on the sink, her side full of fucking makeup tubes and glitters and shit I don’t know about, and splash cold water on my face.

Fuckin’ hell.

How do you win over someone you’re already married to?

Chapter 7

Mia

Curled up in the guest bedroom, I sniffle after hearing a knock on the door. It’d better not be him because, after a night of crying my heart out after thinking I was about to die, I’m about to punch him if I ever see his face again.

“Mrs Malone, it’s Maria.” Her sweet and caring voice escapes the door. “Can I come in?”

I sit on the bed, trying to pull my hair in some sort of presentable shape. Maria is in her black and white uniform, her short brown hair impeccable and a soft smile dancing on her lips as if she carries all the goodness of the world in her. I don’t know if she has children, but I’d bet she’d be the kindest mother anyone could wish for.

“Here,” she says calmly, putting a breakfast silver tray on the foot of the bed. “The doctor will be there in an hour. Call me if you need anything,” she says.

“I, yes, thank you so much.” I’m genuinely grateful for her being here with me in this big empty house.

“Anything, really.” She nods at me with a spark as if she had been worried about me. I nod back before turning my face away, sensing the tears coming up again. She’s so good, she doesn’t even let it become uncomfortable and disappears in the hallway. I glance at the tray and notice she chose different things than the usual breakfast they serve me, which I basically only cut into small pieces and push around the corner of each plate as if I had eaten something. This time, all I find is green tea with a bowl of yogurt and fresh berries on the side. As if Ares had told her about my taste from his observation at our wedding.

No, don’t you dare be grateful for this man.

There’s a small envelope on the side, next to a small pink notebook and a glittery pen.

Strange, I would have never thought Ares had that kind of supplies in his home.

I don’t know what’s in the envelope but whatever it is, I’m not ready to forgive him anytime soon. But curiosity takes the best of me. I open it and find a hand-written letter. Reading it quickly, I clench my jaw and stare out the window.

This man.

THIS FREAKING MAN.

What am I gonna do with him?

Ares

Mia,

You have every right to be mad. I wouldn’t expect any mercy, especially not from you. Write in the notebook every food and stuff you like and I’ll make sure Larry only makes them for you from now on.

The doc will come check on you this morning. Let him do it. Please.

I know it took too fucking long for you to get out of the house but I needed time to find the best team. Here’s two phone numbers of men I’d trust with my life. You want to go out, you call them, they’ll accompany you everywhere.

Take your time being angry but come back to our bed tonight.

Can’t fucking stand my wife not sleeping next to me.

-         A

Chapter 8

Mia

“Do you guys want something?” I ask my two new bodyguards, who shake their heads in response as I order a matcha latte from this cutesy place we drove by for my first outing. I waited two weeks to call them and go out. I guess I needed time to recover from my episode, and since seeing the doctor, who was super nice and actually looking more like Father Christmas than anything else, I knew I had to rest a bit. It’s not really in my nature to dwell on things but that night was pretty intense for me, maybe the biggest episode I’ve ever had, so staying in wasn’t that bad.

Ares gave me space too, coming home late and leaving early like he used to, but this time, he didn’t act like he was avoiding me. It was intentional as if he knew I needed it. And when he was here, he didn’t try to connect with me or invade my space. I would just notice him watching me from the corner of my eyes every now and then when I was in the kitchen, reading on our bed or doing my pilates in the living-room. For the last fourteen days, he kept leaving me small notes on his pillow for me to wake up to.

Have a good day, princess.

Painters coming in the afternoon, stay away from inhaling the paint.

Sun is out, Maria will make your lunch on the terrasse.

Good first outing, princess. Stay close to Shadow and Ash.

Never thought this broody, cold criminal would ever take the time to write me notes. It feels strangely…nice. But I'm not forgetting what he did to me four days ago. So I’m not impressed. Not at all. He can keep his notes and his nicknames and shove them up his-

“Mrs Malone, here,” says the young, ginger one, giving me a black Amex card. “Boss said it arrived this mornin’.” The card shimmers with my new name on it.

Mrs Mia Malone.

“I already have one.” I shrug, showing him the one that was on my night table the day I moved in.

“Boss said this one is better, think it’s a no-limit kind of card.” He’s still holding it in the air for me to take, while the other one, a good looking older blond guy, shakes his head with a knowing smile. Yeah, this one has experienced women in his life. He’s not clueless like his younger partner.

No limit.

Oh.

That’s sweet.

I take it, pay for my matcha latte and head to the mall next to it. “By the way, guys, you can call me Mia. Mrs Malone sounds so, um, old.” They nod and follow me as I enter the first store. After days of pure hatred over my fake husband, I decide it’s about time to take things in hand. And I guess this little black card is going to be my anger management outlet. I look around and spot the lingerie department at the back of the expensive store.

Perfect. Let’s start with it and work my way up to one grand. The buzz of my phone vibrates in my purse.

“Hey, sis!” says Kiara with her sweet voice.

“Kia! I was waiting for your call, so tell me everything. How was the ball?”

Ares

My phone rings while I’m in the middle of checking the last accounts Vox sent me. The name of my banker appears. Strange. The guy never calls me unless there’s an issue.

“Mr Malone,” a slight trembling voice says.

“O’Connor,” I grunt, hating to be disturbed for no reason.

“Hello, sir. I’m, um, I’m calling you to check if you are aware of the rather large purchases that have been made today.” His voice sounds strained and awkward.

“Large purchases, nope.” I grin, knowing exactly what’s going on. “I don’t have all day, shoot.” I shake my head, bankers and their fucking paperwork and long ass talk.

“Ninety thousand dollars has been used in different types of clothing stores, another fifty thousand in a jewelry shop, and another hundred thousand on a new car in the name of Mrs Mia Malone…” His voice is now almost inaudible, as if the guy was afraid of me bursting out of the phone to grip his throat.

“What about it?” I deadpan.

“The expenses, sir. They are… It’s a lot for only one day, compared to your usual—”

“Have you blocked the card?” I grunt.

Why the fuck is he making a fuss with this?

“No, sir.”

“Add more funds to it, make sure my wife can spend as much as she wants. And don’t call me for those fucking small matters.” Then I hang up ‘cause I may be softer with my wife, but I’m still a fucking asshole to everybody else.

I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms behind my head. Of course she’s going with the angry shopper kind of way. It’s alright with me. I have deep pockets, and spoiling my wife is alright with me as long as I’m the one who gets to see her smile at the end of the day.

She’s feisty, and that’s probably the first step on her to-do list of how to make me pissed. Only she doesn’t know I’ve been dealing with enemies waiting to put a knife in my back for years, so staying cool during a fire is kinda my thing.

Let’s see what she has in store for me next.

‘Cause I’m determined to win her over.

Bring it on, baby.

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.

Chapter 10

Mia

Since spending all of his money didn’t even make him flinch in the slightest, I knew I had to think of a different strategy. Surely, a man like him wouldn’t care about my small attempts at making him pay. If he and I were just an illusion of a marriage, then why even try? And I can’t stop thinking about the notes he keeps leaving on his pillow with his sweet words. It’s so confusing. Damn it, why does he have to be so…so kind all of a sudden? And why does his absence annoy me that much? Isn’t marriage supposed to be all smooth sailing? Ares and I are too different, this will never work.

Focus, Mia, focus.

I could still escape, find my way back to Kiara and save her from an arranged marriage as well. Chicago is an eight-hour drive away, which is way too long. I’d need to stop somewhere in between to find shelter. Indianapolis maybe? I do have some friends there. Acquaintances, I mean. Perhaps they could help me without telling my father. Not sure about that, not really sure I can trust anyone not to tell on my father or Ares. After all, they are the ones owning those cities. Indianapolis is right at the end of the Raven Sons territory, so technically safe.

Technically, because it’s owned by my father, and my face is quite recognizable there, but I’ll find a way. I can take a bit of cash with me and be untraceable, that’s a good idea. Then I’d find Kiara, explain the whole shebang to her and we would leave to, well, Canada? Mexico? Anywhere we wouldn’t have to be the little pawn of my father anymore.

I had been thinking about this for a week now. It’s impossible to escape during the day. The house is watched by the Raven Sons and I’m accompanied for each outing. So night it is. Only I know Ares sleeps with one eye open, just like any man in his position should. Since he’s getting home sooner lately, I won’t be able to pack a bag. Too obvious. I’ll just take what I’ve got on me and buy what I’ll need on the way. I’m a princess when I want but I don’t have issues with going full Tomb Raider as well. That’s a misconception about femininity, people always assume we’re dumb and superficial. They don’t see that just because you like cute things doesn’t mean you can’t live without them. They’re a plus, little cherries on the cake.

I look around the living room where I’ve set my work laptop after a video call with a client and sigh.

Gotta say it’s a pretty place.

I’ll miss it.

And maybe it’s not the only thing I will miss.

But there’s no point in staying. Ares and I are too different and I can’t live with a man who purposefully hurts me just to observe my reactions.

“Would you like some tea, Mrs Malone?” asks Maria, always so discreet and anticipating my needs.

“That would be great. Thank you, Maria.” I’m grateful for her kindness after I gave her the list of things I like to eat, which Ares asked me to write. I was really embarrassed to have to detail exactly how I wanted them to steam-cook the vegetables and remove as many carbs as possible but honestly, it’s a relief. Eating has been easier since. She disappears five minutes before coming back with a wood tray, green tea, coconut chia pudding, and an apple cut into a flower shape. I can tell the cook is trying really hard to do something with the small list I gave him. Never been in a place with such kind people.

I mean, they’re not all kind.

One of them is still getting under my skin.

But it soon will be over.

“Here,” Maria says before fidgeting in front of me. I’m sat in my work clothes, a tight turquoise dress with big golden loops on my ears and coral lipstick. It doesn’t really match the whole cabin vibe of the home but somehow I enjoy the contrast.

“Are you okay, Mrs Malone?” She joins her hands in front of her as if she’s truly worried.

Can she tell I’m about to escape tonight? Did I do anything to betray my plan?

“Yes, of course, just a bit tired,” I make up on the spot before watching her nod and move away. I drink my tea, listen to the latest pop songs I’ve downloaded, and then head to the bathroom to take a shower. It’s been a long day of video calls with clients and so much online shopping for them that my eyes are sore from watching screens all day. Between going out with Shadows and Ash for my matcha latte and talking to my clients, my social cup is full. I let the hot water ripple on me. Burning, just how I like it. Just enough to make my skin tingle, making it barely tolerable.

Always one foot too close to the cliff.

Always trying to reach my limits.

I close my eyes and let the burn sink into my skin, blooming into red shapes decorating my flesh. I grab my cinnamon shower gel just beside Ares’s all-in-one men's thing. How can he only use one product and smell so…so, damn it, so good.

Don’t think about him.

Not here.

Not now.

One sniff can’t hurt, right?

Just as I’m about to open his bottle and act like a teenager having a stupid, stupid crush, voices break me out of my daze.

Strange, I didn’t know we were expecting anyone.

Maria would have told me. The voices get clearer as I slide the door and enter our bedroom with my towel on. It sounds like a man and a woman are talking; only I know Maria's soft tone, and this is not it. I don’t even bother getting dressed and walk quietly to the stairs with my towel still on.

Well, I’m technically in my house, why wouldn’t I be able to get downstairs in a towel? It’s not like I’m butt-naked parading around the house. The towel goes to my thighs.

Words are muffled in the living room. It’s hard to hear from the entryway but Ares’s deep tone is impossible to mistake.

“...handsome, I was in the neighborhood and—” a familiar voice says. Focusing on its dripping honey tone, I gasp silently.

Carolina. What is she doing here?

Feeling bold, I glance at them from the entryway, hiding behind the wall of the stairs. Talk about making stupid decisions.

How about eavesdropping half-naked on your fake husband and a man-eater?

“...it’s a good idea, you probably should—” Ares says but I don’t catch all of it.

Is he asking her to stay? Perhaps he’s looking for a replacement already?

Hissing a breath, I pull the towel tighter around me, as if it could somehow protect my heart from whatever flirting banter is happening in there.

“...couldn’t say goodbye properly last time I—” she says, and I swallow hard, hearing fabric fall on the floor. Taking one last dangerous glance, hoping to not get seen, I trip on my toes and fall on the floor, my towel still, thank god, tucked around me.

Only I don’t get up right away, struck by the view of Carolina’s bare back in front of me, her blouse resting on the beige rug as if she was only starting to strip for Ares.

“Fuck, Mia,” he curses, rushing toward me but I get out of my haze, stumble and get up as quickly as I can and run toward our room. Ares doesn’t even have the time to get to me before I lock our door.

“Mia, open this door.” His tone is serious and commanding, surely the one he usually uses with his men. I don’t say anything, struck by the sight of Carolina’s nakedness and also by the reaction I had. I shouldn’t have cared about what happened downstairs. I really shouldn’t have. And yet, when I saw it, it felt like a million daggers piercing my heart, each sinking deeper as I witnessed my husband’s betrayal unfold right before my eyes. I step back into the room until my gaze reaches the mirror facing our bed.

You did it, Mia.

You fell for the bastard.

You made a mess.

Now how the hell are you going to deal with it?

Ares

Maria called me today, which was too fucking unusual for me to not pick up. She said Mia looked tired and sad. I’ve never cared about anyone’s feelings but knowing that my wife isn’t smiling and snapping at me with her usual wit doesn’t sit right with me. She’s still mad at me, but sad? Nah, that won’t do.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, gather the last contracts we’ve signed with the Mexican Cartel, take my Glock in my holster, and get out of the club. It’s six, way too fucking early to be home. I never get there this soon, actually.

Married to my work, that’s what Vox always says.

Well, married to Mia is more accurate now.

I spent the whole drive thinking about her. About what I should do to make her smile again. I took a chance on marrying the girl, but my guts rarely deceive me, and honestly, even with the whole attitude and panic attacks, I know I’m in fucking deep. I kind of like those things about her actually. Not the panic attacks, I mean. I’ve been working on finding a specialist to work with her on that. Doc told me the guy was the fucking best in his field and I wouldn’t want anything less for my little tornado. Hell, I’ll even come with her to her appointments if she wants me to.

I know I’m falling hard for the girl but why would I even deny it when it’s the fucking truth? It’s hard to get past the last woman before her, not because I fell for her too, but because the bitter taste of betrayal still lingers in my mouth. I get that Mia isn’t like her, especially since I saw how vulnerable she is when she’s with me compared to the perfect façade she displays for others. I can only assume she does that ‘cause she learned to adapt when she lived in her home in Chicago with her fucking neglectful parents. In a way, her being sassy with me is the biggest compliment she could ever give me. It means she knows I’ll never try to hurt her like her parents did. Means she’s safe to be herself around me.

I don’t want to repeat the past, yet I don’t fucking know how. Mia’s different. She’s a firework but I don’t know if she could fall for a control freak like me. And I don’t even know if I could trust her fully, or if I would always expect her to betray me one way or another.

I’m thirty-two, head of a massive MC club, feared by so many, and yet, this tiny redhead is rocking my world more than anything ever has. Vox was right, she’s my match.

I want her.

Not just now.

I want to keep her.

Always.

And I will, but it won’t be a fucking happy ending if she doesn’t want me back too.

Parking inside my garage beside other bikes, I remove my helmet and rush to the entryway, eager to find my woman. I’ve never been known to be the one who cheers up people. I guess it’s fair for someone with a psychotic reputation but I’ll do it for her if she needs me too. Perhaps I can buy her more wool or fucking needles to do the crochet stuff she likes to do in bed at night. I reach the door and an out-of-breath Maria greets me.

What’s wrong?

“Sir, I’m so sorry. There’s a lady waiting for you in the—”

I frown. “How did she get in?” My right hand instinctively grabs my gun in my holster. The whole house is protected by the Raven Sons. I have men making turns all around my property days and nights, and I added a few more since Mia moved in. Nobody can enter unless they’ve been invited or are family.

“It’s the lady from the other night, she said she had forgotten her jacket, she, um, she insisted on waiting for you,” she says, her hands trembling.

Fuck.

What is my sister’s friend doing here?

Can’t she take a fucking hint?

I nod once. “It’s alright for this time, Maria. But no more surprise visitors from now on,” I command her with no anger ‘cause she’s a good housekeeper, and knowing Carolina, I bet she couldn’t find a way to get rid of her.

“Yes, sir.” She nods, embarrassment painted on her face.

“Where’s Mrs Malone?” I ask as I give her my cut.

She swallows nervously. “Upstairs, sir.”

I nod, both of us knowing that Mia can’t see her in there. That’s what you pay good staff for. Little mistakes can be changed, but discretion, loyalty, and understanding of dynamics are priceless.

I walk to our living room, warm tones making it inviting with the wood molding and the modern cream sofas. I notice a laptop and a pink notebook are on one of the armchairs. Mia must have put her workstation here this afternoon. I like imagining my woman laid here in her tight clothes. What I would give to stay here and watch her all day with her glittery pen. It’s making me want to punch something as I imagine her chewing the damn thing in her full lips while she daydreams.

Focus.

First, get rid of Carolina.

Second, find Mia.

“Carolina,” I say with a dry and cold tone I reserve for fuckers who usually end up in my basement at the club.

“Hi, handsome,” she replies with a sultry, raspy voice.

Fuck no.

“I was in the neighborhood and I thought why not drop by and say hi.” She angles her face to gawk at me shamelessly. She reminds me of someone, her manners similar to the woman who used to live here years ago.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, you probably should go.” It’s Vanessa’s friend, telling her to get the fuck out isn’t probably the best idea. My sister would lose her shit over it.

“I couldn’t properly say goodbye last time I was here and I wanted to show you something,” she says as she unbuttons her shirt, her chest naked underneath as she lets the fabric fall on the rug.

What in the actual fuck?

I’ll deal with Vaness’ later.

Can’t say I didn’t try the easy way.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” I grunt, unaffected by her attempts at seducing me. “The only reason I’m not throwing you away is because you know my sister, but let's make one thing clear, whatever shit you think is happening between us,” I tilt my head to the side as a slight sound echoes behind her, “isn’t happening. You’ve met my wife? Think I need anything more?”

She gasps, her jaw falling down, her eyes filled with anger.

Fuck her. The sooner she gets out, the sooner I’ll make sure Mia won’t find her naked in our home. Don’t want my little tornado to think I’d give a second of attention to this woman.

Right when I’m about to stride upstairs to find my Mia, I hear a fucking cute curse right before watching my delicious little wife trip on the floor of the entryway like a deer caught in plain sight.

Eavesdropping.

Wouldn’t have expected anything less.

I swallow a grin ‘cause there’s no fucking way I’m smiling in front of this woman standing here and rush to Mia, expecting to help her. But she storms to the stairs and beats me to it, shutting our door and locking it so fast I don’t have time to open it.

Shit.

Did she hear all of our conversation? If she only got a glimpse then she’s perhaps making things up in her head. Why did she even listen in the first place?

Could Mia be…jealous?

Knocking less aggressively on the door, I try to calm myself.

“Mia, princess, open the door.”

Let me fix this.

Please.

Chapter 11

Mia

Don’t open.

Don’t open.

Don’t open.

Otherwise, I know I’m going to get sucked in by his emerald eyes and hypnotizing jaw. He was flirting with Carolina downstairs, and if I didn’t stumble, they would literally have DONE IT here. In my house!

We’re calling this “my house” now?

I bite my lips at the appalling truth standing before me. Yes, this is my house now. I’ve got my stuff here, my habits, people who know my food preferences, security, and, well, a husband who despite being a gigantic schmuck is also kind of my new safe place so…

Yes, this is my house now.

“Mia, princess, open the door.” Ares says, his low voice echoing behind the door. I don’t answer him, wondering what good could come out of this. Ares and I are both fiery people, fighting against him would turn into a huge mess and I don’t think I want it to happen. Hating him for the last dinner incident is easier. Now, I don’t know if I should be mad at him for seeing Carolina downstairs or just sad because, despite it all, he sneaked into my heart with barbels and gasoline, ready to tear me apart.

“Mia, c’mon. I’m not a patient man.” His voice grows sharper with anger, the door handle moving brutally under his grip. He’s going to break the door.

“No,” I state firmly.

“No?” he fires back, and I swear, I can hear him panting.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” I shout at the door.

A few seconds pass before Ares roars, “Step away from the door!” Then, a loud sound fills the room as I watch the lock shatter under the gunshot he just sent into it. His massive figure enters, the vein of his neck pulsing like he’s about to fight. And I hate myself for drinking every inch of his inked arms and wishing somehow they were on me.

“I said I don’t want to talk to you,” crossing my arms and stepping back until the back of my knees touches the bed, and I decide to get up on it. “I didn’t say you could shoot the lock and burst into the room!” My feet melt into the mattress as I tower over him, my towel still tucked around me.

“Nothing happened,” he grunts, both of us knowing what he’s talking about. I stay stuck, not knowing how to process this sudden jealousy eating me from the inside.

So I remain silent. Speechless. Fighting between being mad at him and hurting at the same time. And faithful to his ruthless nature, he sees the cracks and sneaks into it like a snake.

“What happened to that pretty mouth of yours?” he says, grinning wickedly. I don’t answer. Instead, I drink every inch of his broad chest under the light of the bedroom. His black shirt with his sleeves up to the elbows are distracting me.

“C’mon, wife, where’s your sass?” He pushes me further like he does with everyone. That’s his thing, finding the opening and digging deeper until you break in an irreversible way. Like fingers digging in an open wound. Ares is known for his mind games, and right now, he’s trying his best to push my buttons.

And it’s working.

“You think I’d take her in our living room? Knowing you were upstairs?” He steps dangerously toward the bed.

Damn it, my anger is on the edge of the cliff.

“Thought you wouldn’t care about it, princess.” He shrugs a shoulder carelessly while my heart is about to burst on the sheets.

“She was fucking hot, though,” he declares, giving me his last blow. And it hurts, it hurts way too much. Way more than it should. Jumping from the cliff, I swallow hard, my fists clenching hard along my hips, fighting the tears to stay in.

“You’re an asshole, Ares.” Thick tears build in my throat.

Why am I crying?

His grin widens.

“There she is.” A low chuckle roars in his throat but something else, something far more dangerous dances in his leafy gaze.

Why does he like making me angry? What’s in it for him?

“I do not care who gets to touch you. I do not care about who you sleep with and what you do in our living room with a barely clothed woman!” I point my index at the door. “I. DO. NOT. CARE and you know why? Because I’m not your wife,” I backfire at him with so much anger, my palms get sweaty.

“Look at you, Mia. You’re lying to yourself, princess.” He shakes his head as I try to stay confident and calm.

“Ares…”

Oh, he’s good, he’s really good.

Getting into my head and playing with my heart when all I have to hope for is the chance to escape one day from this loveless marriage. I’m falling for him, hard. I just know it. Ares has the fire I need to feel alive, to combust in his attention, his care. Only I know that a man like him will never want anything to do with a messy, fiery, loud, woman like me who can’t even eat normally without having a full-blown panic attack.

We’re too different.

He will never love me.

“Each time she looked at me during dinner, you flushed. Each time she tried to touch my arm, you kept on fidgeting and when she talked about staying in the area, do you remember that, princess ?”

Don’t let him get in your head. I’m strong, I’m independent, I’m my own master, for God’s sake.

Stepping on the bed in front of me, both of us in a standoff over our cushy mattress, he pulls a stay of hair behind my ears, and I hate myself for leaning in his touch.

“Yeah, of course you do, ‘cause your pretty lips parted, and I knew if you had a gun in your hand, wife, you would have shot her. You wanna know how I knew it? ‘Cause I murder people for a living, and that look in your pretty eyes was too damn good not to light me on fire.”

He exhales loudly, feet deep in our bed, while the electricity fills the air, suffocating me in his musky and addictive scent. My towel is still tucked around me as the only protective layer against him. And yet his gaze stays stuck on my face while I’m becoming more and more aware of my nakedness.

“And just to clarify it one last time. You are my wife, Mia. And I’m your husband. Whether or not our marriage was arranged doesn’t fucking matter anymore. If I hear you one more time saying you’re not my wife, I promise you, princess, I’ll show you how a husband is supposed to care for his wife and I know this time you won’t ever forget you’re mine.” His hand gently grabs the side of my throat while our gazes melt into one another as I let the promise of his words run through my body.

“You can’t make me do anything, Ares. I’m not one of your men following you around and obeying all your orders,” I say with gritted teeth. His grip tightens in a possessive hold, my veins pounding in his palm, drunk on the feeling of the hand of death on me, of his calloused skin against my tender flesh, treating me like gold.

Precious, yet hard to break.

“Mia, Mia… You see, princess, the thing is, I don’t even have to give you orders. You will do what I want, not because I ask, but because you’ll want it too.”

So sure of himself. So arrogant.

“Feeling a bit sure of yourself, huh?” I raise a brow.

“When the time comes, I can promise you, you will beg on your knees for me.” A smile tugs at his corners.

“Why me?” I smile sarcastically. “Carolina would make a much better prey.” And I know I’ve struck a nerve when I notice his jaw tick.

“Getting jealous, wife?” I swallow and I regret it instantly knowing his hand is still on my throat, betraying me. “Carolina means as much to me as dust on the floor.” Anger pulses through his green pupils.

Could it be possible? That he's not attracted to her? That he doesn’t want anything to do with her?

“Don’t.” It’s as if he can hear me think. “Don’t think for one second that I want anything to do with her.”

“You should, she's an obedient woman for a control-freak like you, isn’t it what you want? A woman who stays put, folds her clothes, and stands by your side silently.”

A veil passes on his gaze before a smile tugs at his lips. His gaze turns softer and he murmurs, “I thought that’s what I wanted.” He removes his hand and then strokes my jaw with the back of his finger.

Soft, yet rough.

Could this man be any more confusing?

“Always thought I’d be alone, Mia, still do,” he confesses, getting back on the floor and looking up at me. His words hit me hard, making me want to pull him next to me and tell him he’ll never have to be alone anymore. But I won’t, because that’s not who I’m meant to be. Who I am will never be what he needs, and I’ll be damned if I ever change myself to fit into another person’s standard. I’ve done it my whole life and I swore to myself to never do that ever again.

“Why is that?” I sit on the bed with my legs on the side to cover myself with the towel even if I notice how his gaze keeps on running along my skin with a hunger I wish I could indulge in. “Why did you think you’d always be alone? Women are crawling at your feet and your men are surrounding you wherever you go. You’re never alone.”

He shakes his head, sitting back in the leather chair at the foot of our bed, his gaze drifting away as he looks at the window looking over the forest. It’s dark outside but you can still see the shapes of the trees bouncing with the wind, contrasting with the sleek and silent interior.

“I’m always around folks, that’s for sure, never alone…yet always lonely.” He runs a hand in his brown hair.

Does he really feel that way?

“I get it,” I say with a sadder voice than I thought I had in me.

“I know you do,” he answers back, catching me off guard. I lift a brow at him. “You like people around you, princess. You like when there’s noise, music, fucking colors everywhere to fill the void, but at your core, you’re like me.” He rests his elbows on his thighs, piercing through my armor with his frankness.

“We’re different.” My voice falters.

“Nah, but you can keep telling yourself we are if it makes you feel better.” Sighing like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, he rises from the chair, and steps toward me until he towers over my body. Taking my chin in his hand, he lifts my face until our gazes lock. The air gets thicker.

“The food thing, is it getting better?” he murmurs.

I never like talking about it, it’s embarrassing, and…so personal. I nod slightly because yes, it is a bit easier since he made me write the list. It’s hard to navigate between the version of him who is an arrogant prick and the softer side of him who takes care of me in a way that makes my heart burst.

“Good. We’ll have to talk about it at some point.” His voice softens as if he’s trying to soothe me. “Get some rest. I’ll call you when dinner's ready,” he orders softly before resting a rough kiss on my forehead.

Dangerous, psychotic, maniac, and yet, he kisses me on the forehead.  This man will be the end of me.

It’s in that moment I understand.

That there will be no better night than tonight to escape. Escaping the truth of him sinking his claws into my heart. Escaping the hope of love, comfort, and stability. Running, always running. Because that’s the only thing I know.

I never had a home and I’d have never felt what it’s like to be loved unconditionally if it wasn’t for my sister. All my life I’ve been looking for a shelter, a safe place to be me, to let someone love every beautiful and ugly part of me. My brain has been wired for rejection, judgment, and this…this is too much. I want to stay and run away at the same time. I want to let my heart fall in love with my husband and push him away before he breaks me even more.

I have to run, that’s the only way I can get out of this mess before it’s too late.

Ares

My little tornado is slipping between my fingers. I can fucking sense it like a lion losing track of its prey. Even after eavesdropping on me, acting all jealous, and listening to me opening up for the first time in front of a woman, I noticed her gaze shifting when I let her get in her PJs.

It felt right, talking to her, telling her about how it really was, being at the top. Planning, deciding, always ahead, always alone. I haven’t talked about it with anyone before. Even with my ex, before she decided it was a great fucking move to try to break my club from within, it never felt right. Mia’s different, that’s for sure, but her emotions are written on her face like a book she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to.

Makes things more real, more truthful.

That’s why I saw something was off with her tonight. Yeah, she freaked out with the Carolina thing, which I think I managed to break down and show her I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the woman. But still, there was a spark in her eyes that was missing. It wasn't obvious though, just a flash of sadness and fear, as if she had seen a ghost. It was the same look she had before her episode. If only I could enter her brain and visit every corner of it, I would fucking know what she was thinking.

From what I gathered after her weeks living here, Mia isn’t the kind of girl who keeps things inside. It needs to get out one way or another. Whether it’s with her million hobbies like knitting, reading, drawing, or journaling. Like when she leaves her pink notebook everywhere she goes in the house and the crochet and needle stuff on our bed each night.

She’s creative, and has to express what’s inside her soul to not burst out. I’m the opposite. I keep everything hidden, ordered, locked away, but it doesn’t mean I don’t get her.

I could tell there was a storm happening in her mind tonight. And just ‘cause I’ve lived too many years expecting the worst of people, I just know in my guts she’s going to do something about it. And this time, I doubt it’ll be just a bit of quiet journaling in the living room.

Chapter 12

Mia

I can do this, sure. It’s not like this is my first dumb choice in life. I haven’t said anything to Ares since he came back to the room after dinner. The man had already dug into my heart later that night when he opened up to me, and it felt like I had an insight into a treasure no one had ever seen. Men from this world are always closed off, rough around the edges, just like him. Watching him let his guard down just for me felt like intimacy at its peak. I always thought attraction to the other gender would always be held in the confound of physical appeal, but Ares’s mind is, well, as hot as his Viking looks. There’s nothing comparable to a closed-off person opening up to you. It’s special, precious, and you’d have to be stupid not to cherish it when it comes.

That’s why I need to leave now.

Because this man is setting his roots into my core and I don’t know how to process this. I don’t know how to accept his words, his touch, his care. I never had to receive this in my family. It was always about portraying the perfect little girl for my father, being thin and pretty for my mother, and trying not to go totally insane each time they wanted me to stay put.

Living with them was like wearing a mask on my face each day of my life. It never matched my personality, with the need to be someone who runs wildly under the rain, laughs loudly, and takes up space in any room they enter. Everywhere else, I felt bold, but not with them. Never with them. They always knew where to hit to make it hurt, and with time, I just let them do it. As long as Kiara was happy, that was all that mattered to me.

Home was never safe for me to be who I wanted to be.

It was like betraying who I really was. Who I really am.

Each time I tried to push their boundaries, to tell them to fuck off, they would belittle me, humiliate me, remove the food from my plate, and let me go to sleep with an empty belly or a couple almonds if I apologized.

I felt dirty there. Sad. Vulnerable.

Inferior.

And I hated it. So, so much.

Something had always been missing from my life, the want to feel alive, as if I had spent an entire life with chains around me.

I didn’t want to have to endure a loveless marriage beside a man who would expect me to change for him. What would be the point of waking up every day to try to fit some mold just to realize you’ll always be a disappointment for everyone?

My parents wanted a perfect daughter, quiet, discreet. I was wild, speaking before thinking, jumping out of the window when I was tired of their rules and curfews. They wanted a bright girl to shove it in front of other people's faces. I had failed miserably three years in a row in different majors until finishing my degree at twenty-three.

They had tried to marry me at eighteen, twice. I ran away each time.

They knew their only leverage was Kiara.

They just knew where to push to really, really hurt me.

I couldn’t go back. It wasn’t home, it had never been.

But where was home now?

As I take the rest of the cash from my red tote bag, I sigh and look one last time at my husband. He’s sleeping, his arm behind his head as I watch one last time the ink dancing on his abs, regret and sadness painted in my mind.

Was he my home now?

You know he is, Mia. You’re running away.

You’re deflecting.

Clothed with my purple velvety loungewear set, I fold the cash in my pocket and tiptoe my way out of the room, knowing deep down that something is off.

You’re making a mistake.

There is no sound in the hallway, no light but the one of the moon shining through the massive windows. I make my way to the entry, putting on my white and golden sneakers and then checking my phone battery one last time. I just need to find a taxi or a bus station, and go somewhere.               Anywhere where I can have a fresh start. Perhaps if my father believed I was dead, he would drop the whole Kiara forced marriage threat now that he had lost his bargaining power? Can’t argue with a dead person, right? I’d find my way back to Kiara, let her know I was okay. And maybe, maybe convince her to join me wherever I go.

There is no plan. Whatever I’m doing is bad, poorly prepared, rushed, and messy. Just like me. But I don’t know any better.

All I know is that I need the air to whip my face.

I need the branches to snatch my skin.

I need to feel alive.

And I need it now.

Ares

I thought I’d be mad, or disappointed at least, but none of these thoughts came to my mind as I heard my wife leave our bed in the middle of the night.

Hurt. That’s what it was. To know that she felt the need to do this, to leave me without even facing me, to take nothing but the clothes on her back. Not only was it a testament to her courage but also to the fact that Mia didn’t need all this crap. That she wasn’t like the one that lived here before her. I already knew it, but seeing it, watching her ready to give up any sense of comfort just to get out of here, just to get out of a life with me…

Fuck. It hurt like a knife shoved in my heart.

I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to see that there was a place for her here. That I wasn’t just a jerk trying to piss her off. That I could, damn, that I could take care of her and make sure she’d be fulfilled. I’m rough around the edges, I fucking know that, but Mia made me see that I could be something else. That I didn’t have to always act with a guarded fortress around me.

That not everybody was always here for the kill.

That she saw me and that I saw her.

I didn’t even have the time to tell her about her new workspace. I even called her sister last week to show her and make sure Mia would like it when it was done.

Just as I heard the door of the house shut, I pulled out the covers, took a black sweatshirt, and pulled it on. I already had on sweatpants because I had seen the way she was gawking at me when I wore them at night and I wanted her to keep on doing that every single night.

I was an asshole to her when we got married, I admit it. I just wanted to marry her and satiate my curiosity since the day I saw her from the window. I didn’t care then about us becoming more. Threatening her not to escape was mostly because I had a picture in my head of her in my home, and I always stuck to the plan. But after her panic attack, something changed. And now the thought of never seeing her again feels like the floor is disappearing under me. Now, I don’t want her to leave, not because I’m keeping her, but because I want her to want to be kept.

Taking the stairs two-by-two, I put on my black sneakers and rush out of the door.

Where did you go, princess?

I look on the right, and footsteps are printed in the pebbles, betraying her path. There’s only woods around us and I know this is out of her comfort zone. Luckily for me, it isn’t. Despite the darkness and the unknown of the forest, she still chose to run into it.

Brave girl.

There’s a few acres around the property, because I like privacy and watching my enemies slowly walk toward their death when some find a way in. But there’s one way out other than the main gates. Deep into the forest, there's a tree tall enough to go past the wall surrounding the property. If she climbs it, she can jump out of it and fall on the other side. From there, it’s roads and roads until the city. But yeah, out of desperation, she could do it. If I learned anything from living with Mia, it’s not to underestimate her. A sound breaks me out of my thoughts as I hear a small curse from the forest.

Mia.

Quick footsteps fill the night as I listen carefully to her direction. She’s running. Fast. And she’s going toward the tree at the end of the property. I’m not even sure she knows about it but still, she’s heading in the right direction to escape.

Fuck.

I start running, entering deeper into the woods and noticing a small silhouette. She’s already far, but it won’t be a problem to catch her. Hunting people is my favorite sport, yet tonight, I wished I never had to do it.

Back then, I would have given the world for a chance at hunting my little Mia, chasing her in a cat-and-mouse game, hearing the fear in her breathing as I caught her and brought her back home with a grin on my face. Victorious with a prize under my arm.

Only this time, I’m not hunting for the kill. I’m chasing for the hope of her staying because I don’t want to keep her if she doesn’t want me to. It would be too, fuck, too painful. To stare at her angelic face every morning, knowing she’d wish nothing more but to get away from me. I fasten my pace, the wind roaring around me as the branches take pieces of fabric and my shoes are covered in mud.

That’s it, I’m almost there. I can see her. She’s running like she knows someone’s behind her. She’s running like that’s the only chance she’ll ever get.

God, Mia.

She’s running for her life, and the sight of it breaks me open.

Let her go.

Look at her.

She doesn’t want you.

She’s running away from you.

You’re alone.

You’ll always be.

I should be a good man and let her go, but I’m not a good man. I’m the President of an MC club. I hunt and torture people. I deal drugs and weapons across the country. I own strip clubs, businesses, and people. I’m not a good man. Never have been. Never will be.

So I run faster until I can smell her cinnamon scent. She’s breathing loudly, hearing me behind her. She glances at me quickly, tears filling her hazelnut eyes as she tries and fails to run faster.

Until my last breath, this image will remain imprinted in my mind. The sight of my terrified, desperate, crying wife. And I swear to myself to do anything I can to never see those emotions on her face ever again.

“Gotcha,” I grunt as I catch her ribs, her bones heaving under my palms, pulling her back to my chest. I expect her to fight me, to move her little body to try to escape and detangle herself from my hold, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t fight it. And I don’t know if this doesn’t anger me even more. Mia’s a fighter. She should be trying to get away. She should be fighting me. I want her to.

“Fight,” I order her, breathing into her ear, my heart pounding so hard in my chest, she must feel it in her back. She doesn’t respond, so I tighten my hold and rasp louder, “Fight me, Mia. Goddamn it. Fuckin’ fight me!”

She gasps, then pushes my hands, one of her legs kicking my knee. She moves nervously, with an urgency that’s breaking my dark heart as if there was one in my chest. Her breathing quickens, roars of frustration coming out of her as she realizes I’m still holding her.

“Let me go!” she shouts, tears echoing in her voice. “Why did you have to come for me?” Desperation coats her sweet voice. “Why do you want to keep me?” Her arms fall next to her body, stopping the fight. As if she didn’t have it in her to do this anymore as if she couldn’t find the energy for it. I turn her to face me in a rough movement, grabbing her waist and the side of her face.

“I told you, you wouldn’t make it past the gates,” I grunt.

She nods, tears filling her beautiful eyes.

“But I was wrong, Mia. You can still make it if you want to.” I swallow hard at the truth I’m revealing to her. If she wants to go, she can. It’s up to her. I won’t try to stop her. I just need…I just need to hold her one last time.

Her brown pools widen as the words slip from my lips before I can keep them in.

“Why did you go? Why can’t you stay here?” I mutter, surprising myself by the sadness in my voice. “Am I such a fucking waste of a man that you can’t stand being my wife?”

She doesn’t care about you.

She left you as soon as she could.

She’s not trustworthy.

She hates you.

Her gaze searches for something in my eyes, her hand coming to rest mindlessly on my chest as she fists the black fabric.

“It’s…it’s complicated.” Her voice breaks beautifully.

“Nah, just talk to me, Mia. Just fucking talk to me,” I plead with her, not even giving a fuck if I’m debasing myself ‘cause she’s my wife. She can see me, all of me.

“You want to know why I had to marry you?” Her lips tremble. “My father blackmailed me into it. Threatened to marry Kiara to the head of an Italian mafia. The guy is seventy, terminal cancer, and he wants an heir before dying.” She shakes her head. “Kiara is seventeen.” Her jaw clenches at the disgusting tale she’s telling me.

What a fucking asshole.

Mia and her sister have been raised in this twisted world. They know how things work here and what’s expected from them. Arranged marriages benefiting both parties aren’t unusual, but if it happens, you gotta do it in a way the girl isn’t so fucking miserable she’ll want to put a bullet in her head as soon as she gets her husband’s name.

I had changed things in my home for Mia when I decided to take her as my wife. I made sure my staff was there for her. I gave her enough money to buy the fucking town without hesitation. I studied her, built her a place to work, and sent money to her sister so she would come more often to see Mia. I have been determined to give her a good life, and that’s what any husband should be. Whether your wife can stand your face or not.

But this, fuck, this is twisted and nasty.

Because we all know what it takes to make an heir, especially when death is knocking at the guy’s door. I’d bet he’d want to make sure his line is secured. Poor fucking Kiara. The kid would most likely be held in a basement with barely enough food and taken out only to fulfill her duty. Heard that’s how they do it there. The mobster way.

Well, fuck that.

“I’m gonna take care of that,” I promise her.

“Don’t, Ares, it’s over. I’ve saved her by marrying you.” Her eyes go full panic mode as her hand grabs my shoulders. “My father won’t forgive me for telling you his schemes. You cannot talk to him about this.”

“Mia.”

“Ares, really, it’s complicated—” She shakes her head.

“Mia, breathe, baby.” My tone falls lower, and my palms cup her sweet face. She doesn’t snap back at me for calling her that, and I take it as a fucking win.

“Now, are you gonna tell me why you ran off in the woods tonight?” I brush her skin softly.

“I just told you, it’s—” She furrows her brows.

“Bullshit, that was why you married me, not why you left our bed in the middle of the night.” I want the raw version of Mia, not the sleek façade she carries around for other folks.

“Ares, I…” Her lower lip trembles and her hair sticks to her face from the sweat.

“Why Mia? I know I fucked up at dinner, and I’ve been trying to fix it ever since, but—”

“It’s not about that,” she whispers with the sound of thick tears echoing in her throat.

“Then what is it about?” She lifts her face to me, looking so fucking small all of a sudden, and what I see isn’t my witty, confident wife. What I see in the deep brown of her pupils is a little Mia. Terrified of something.

“I–I can’t say it out loud,” she murmurs, the wind surrounding us and the moonlight shining on her face like a damn piece of jewelry.

“Yeah, you can.” Cupping her cheek, I hope to give her enough courage to open up.

“You’ll make fun of me.”

“I won’t, I promise.” I lock my gaze into hers, wanting her to know it’s safe. I won’t make fun of her, even though it fucking pains me to hear her think I’d do such a thing. Fuck her parents for neglecting her and making her feel less for being vulnerable. Fuck them.

“I thought, I thought it'd be easier—” she begins.

And it takes everything in me not to step away from her as her words cut my soul with a thousand swords. So she does hate being my wife. Living here. With me. She hates it.

“I thought it’d be easier to hate you,” she says, taking my breath away as I exhale from the relief she just gave me.

She doesn’t hate me.

She fucking doesn’t.

“The house, the people, you.” She looks over my shoulder behind me. “It’s a lot.”

I can’t tell if she’s saying it in a positive way. What could possibly be too much for her? She owns every single atom of every room she enters. I frown, not getting where she’s going with it.

“Maria is nice to me. Larry is getting used to my food habits.” A slight smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Your sister was inviting, and you, well, you turned out better than I thought.”

“And that's a bad thing?” Hope swells in my chest.

“No, yes… I don’t know.”

“Well, you tell me, princess. I’m not the one running away in the middle of the night.”

“I’m not used to…” a trembling exhale escapes her lips, “to people taking care of me.” She swallows hard as I stroke her back, my large hand warming up her cold body.

Why did it take me so long to find her? I could have married her years ago. I could have made everything better then. She wouldn’t have had to live this way. Why did no one see how she truly felt?

“You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout it here, Mia,” I say calmly, fighting the anger pulsing in my veins. “Whatever you need, I’ll give it to ya.” Holding her tight against me, I notice how she shivers. We need to get inside before she gets sick. The wind is strong, and she just ran for her life, so her adrenaline is slowing down. No wonder my girl’s overwhelmed.

“You’re just saying that because you need me to stay to get back at my father,” she murmurs, and I hear, despite the wind, her voice flinching as she says it.

“Nah, princess. That was before.” I shake my head, mesmerized by the sight of her.

“Before what?”

“Before this.” I stroke her cheek slowly, as delicately as my rough palms allow it, hoping she’ll get it. That this is the softest I’ll ever go for someone, that this is a part of me, no one else will ever get a glimpse of. My eyes lock onto hers as I lower myself for our foreheads to meet.

I’ve never done that. Women were always either terrified of me or throwing themselves at me in hopes of protection, favors, or a way out. It has always been about flesh, nothing more.

But right here, right now, it feels like a wave towering over us, threatening me with a four-letter word that could crash my black heart forever. The urge to kiss her takes over me until I'm no longer a man but pure want and desire for the woman I’m holding in my arms.

“Mia.” Our mouths are so close I can inhale the air she breathes out.

“I’m not right for you, Ares,” she whispers.

Why would she ever doubt that? Then again, I’m slowly learning that my wife isn’t what I thought she was. That under the red lipstick and bright, sexy clothes is a little Mia that has never been cared for.

Her words sink into me as I realize that she’s maybe right, but not in the sense she thinks. I’m not right for her either. I’m a borderline psychopath, criminal, jerk with little to no limits when it comes to protecting my cities and the few folks I care about. I’m known to be twisted, to have no moral compass when it comes to torture and dealing with my enemies. So she’s right. She’s too good for me. She’s the sun and the moon and all the fucking stars wrapped up in one single person, and I’m just a man, with a dark soul and a barely functioning heart. The old thing is so rusty, I can hear it creak from how long it wasn’t used.

“I’m not right for you either, and yet here we fucking are.”

“I don’t know, I—” her brown eyes are getting all watery, “with Kiara and the food thing, it’s…,” She shakes her head. Yeah, I see my girl is too fucking overwhelmed to talk right now. Too many things to think of and no one to help her process it.

“It’s, I mean, I’m a mess.” She chuckles, but there's nothing funny about the icy cold tone of her voice.

I was a shitty husband. This ends now.

“How ‘bout you just stay in my arms and try not to think of anything,” I suggest to her.

“As if it would help.” She sniffs. “You’re serious?” I look at her deadpan. “I’m still mad at you, you know.” Her pouty lips look all pink and full in the moonlight.

“I know,” I say without containing a slight grin.

“Just—just a minute,” her trembling voice complies as if she was trying to convince herself.

“Just a minute,” I assure her. Holding her in my arms, her cinnamon scent expands in the air until it becomes a part of my oxygen, of what I need to live.

If she needs a safe place, I’ll be her shelter.

If she needs guidance, I’ll be her compass.

If she needs support, I’ll be her anchor.

Anything she’ll need, I will provide.

I’m falling. Hard.

Maybe I already fell all the way when I watched her that day through her window. I won’t deny it. I'm falling hard for my wife, and I’ll be damned if I don’t make her fall for me too.

I’ve taken over cities, stared down enemies stronger than me, and risen from the ashes more times than I can count. But this time, I’m fighting for her, for us. And I won’t stop until she’s mine in every way. Whatever it takes, I’ll break down every wall she has until she knows she’s mine for good.

She’s the fight that’ll end all fights.

She’s worth every battle.

I’m all in, and I’m gonna make sure she is too. A minute passes, then a few more, and I remark how her body melts into mine like it’s meant to be. Like it belongs right here, in the closeness of my flesh, in the space I’ve carved out just for her.

We don’t say anything more. I lower myself to swipe her up in my arms and carry her back through the forest to our home. Her face rests on my chest as I carry her small body, her scent becoming a part of me, like ink imprinted on my skin.

Once we’re past the stairs, I bring her to our bathroom, the mug still covering our clothes. My Mia is exhausted, dark circles blooming under her eyes as I kneel before her to remove her sneakers, her hands resting on my shoulders to stay upright.

“We’re almost done,” I assure her.

“You don’t have to, it’s, it’s fine,” she claims, but her voice betrays her. I look up at her face, watching this breathtaking woman and wonder if she’ll stop me. Our eyes meet, and she nods, lifting a corner of her perfect lips. “Just for this time, big guy, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Damn, I missed her sassy mouth.

I grin back with a shrug. “I’ll take what I can get, princess.”

Her lips curl into a smile as she gently shakes her head, and I know that this face, this freaking face will be the end of me.

With steady hands, I help her get out of her clothes until she’s in nothing more but her blue underwear. In any other circumstances, I’d let the caveman in me act but here, with Mia, it’s all fucking different. I keep my gaze up, watching her beautiful red hair on her shoulders, hoping she’ll see that I’m not playing, that I’m not gawking at her like a lion but like a painter would look at a masterpiece.

Tonight’s about her trusting me to be a better man.

To be the husband she deserves.

So I shove my twisted thoughts away and take her hand until I pull her under the covers and tuck her in. Making sure she’s warm and safe in our home. It may take time before she fully admits it, but it is.

“Ares…” she mutters, her eyes closed as I press a rough kiss on her forehead before shutting off her bedside light.

“Yeah, princess?”

“You forgot something.” She yawns like a kitten. “You hate mess—” she murmurs.

I frown.

What is she saying?

“Hate…mess,” she whispers, then her hands fist the sheets, and she fidgets before her breathing lowers and becomes regular. I take a step back, observing her in our bed, the golden ring on her right hand glowing in the dark of the night. Whatever she was trying to say before falling asleep won’t stop me from keeping her.

I fell for my wife tonight.

And there’s no going back.

Chapter 13

Mia

“Hey,” a raspy familiar voice expresses while I stretch myself in the sheets, my legs weighing a ton after last night. God, why did I choose to run away in the woods? I could have picked a more elegant and swift way out. Always acting before thinking.

So stupid.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Ares saw me and, well, kind of made me let my guard down, which I didn’t expect. The way he grabbed me and asked me to fight, as if he knew I had it in me, broke my heart.

That was the first time someone had tried to keep me.

So much so, this man had run after me into the woods, asking me to keep on fighting.

To stay true to myself.

I knew in my heart I couldn’t leave. That I needed to stay to see if maybe, just maybe we could become more. That this whole shitshow of a marriage could become more than what we both ever expected from it. The way his hold had tightened when I told him about Kiara made my heart pound so hard in my chest, I was afraid of it bursting out of my skin.

He was hurt. Yes, my larger-than-life husband, president of the biggest MC club in the country, was hurt. The look in his green, leafy eyes was unmistakable. He thought I had left because of him, and I didn’t expect his words to break my heart that much.

Perhaps this marriage could become something more.

Perhaps there was hope.

He carried me against his warm body, making me feel safe and loved in a way that made butterflies storm in my belly. But then, as he tucked me in our bed, his leather scent covering me like a balm, I remembered something. The look in his eyes each time he saw my clothes on the floor, the way he clenched his fist when I was late, his jaw ticking each time I answered him with a sharp answer rather than what a good, tamed wife should have replied with.

Ares had forgotten something crucial last night, that perhaps got lost in this dramatic end-of-romantic-movies escape.

He forgot he hates mess, chaos and anything that doesn’t go as planned.

And I’m, well, I’m exactly like those things. No, actually, I am those things.

So I drifted into sleep, trying to hide the tears of the hard truth he didn’t seem to grasp yet. He would get tired of me eventually. I knew it.

Am I crazy to stay and see if we can figure this out?

Maybe.

But perhaps I am a little bit crazy because after spending months with my grumpy husband, I began liking him more than I thought. He has this way of being all broody and cocky, and then, there’s another side of him: protective, caring, almost…loving. I guess escaping didn't seem like such a good decision after seeing the way he chased me into the woods and looked at me like I was one of the seven wonders.

If there’s hope, wouldn’t I be stupid to not give it a shot?

“Hey,” I mumble in my sleepy morning voice as I watch my hot-as-hell husband button his black shirt, tattoos escaping up his forearms.

Stop staring.

“Shouldn’t you be at the club? You’re never here at…” I turn toward my phone on the bedside table, “nine. Is everything alright? Did somebody die?” The man never wakes up after sunrise. Surely, there’s something wrong if he’s still here. Even on a Saturday, he keeps on working like the weekend doesn’t exist.

“Nah, just wanted to see you before heading out,” he says in this should-be-illegal voice.

“Oh.” That I didn’t expect. Ares is a workaholic, and he stayed…for me.

“How d’ya feel this morning?” He eyes me like a hawk.

“Alright,” I say, massaging my legs, “my legs hurt a bit.” He lowers down to sit beside me, his hand touching my left leg over the covers, massaging it gently but firmly. I swallow, trying to avoid the heat rising in me. I could push him away, though.

I could.

“Do you need the doc to come check it out?” He studies my face with hooded eyes.

“No, I’m fine. I'll stretch a bit,” I assure him.

He nods, his hand still burning my leg, igniting a fire that keeps on expanding.

“Are you worried about me?” I say with a half-smile because Ares looks more like a ruthless gang president than a loving husband. His gaze sharpens, darkening with a predator’s focus, like a lion coiled to pounce on its prey.

“Can’t a husband worry about his wife?” His tone is so low it hits me right in the stomach. We stay a minute like this, the electricity building in the air as if it could be cut with a knife.

What is he doing to me?

There’s an aura about him. It’s really, really confusing. One minute, I want to snap at him, and the other minute, I want…him.

“Shadow and Ash are coming after lunch, sorry ‘bout that. I need them this morning. They’ll drive you wherever you want this afternoon. Just keep them close, alright?”

I frown.

Keep them close?

“Is there something I should know?”

He sighs, stopping his hand, and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just keep them close. Can you do that for me, princess?”

“Jeez, I’m not a five-year-old who can’t handle your world, talk,” I fire back because I’m so over men, thinking women can’t process darker topics. As if we had been made to only blab about clothes and makeup.

He sighs. “Fair enough.”

He puts his hand back on my leg in a possessive hold I am way too much into.

Calm down, Mia.

He just likes the idea of you.

Don’t you dare get attached.

“We got a few threats coming from a gang in Pennsylvania.”

“How many?” His eyes widen at my answer as if he wasn’t expecting me to ask for details. I was born in this world too, and even if I was not partaking in it, I observed it closely during all my childhood.

“Too many to let you out alone without losing my mind,” he deadpans.

Oh.

Could this dangerous, broody, grumpy man really worry about me?

“Aren’t you used to threats?”

“Yeah, I am, but it’s different this time.”

“How?”

He stands, approaching me and cupping my cheek with his palm, my body embracing his touch immediately. His touch distracts me from his change of topic.

“Wear your red dress tonight,” he commands before kissing my forehead, which I’m starting to really get addicted to. There’s something so hot about a dangerous man being gentle to a woman. It’s making my knees weaken.

Get it together, Mia.

“Tonight?” I frown.

“Forgot to tell ya, we’re hosting a fight night at the club. It’ll be good for you to properly meet the guys.”

“Wait, wait a second, you mean you’re going to fight tonight?” My eyes widen.

He nods. “Said it was just a testosterone show if I remember correctly?” The corner of his lips rise wickedly.

My lips part.

How am I going to react at the sight of someone hitting him? Why does it feel really wrong all of the sudden?

“Are you sure about fighting tonight? We could, um, we could just watch the fights together—” I fidget with the covers.

“Nah, I want you to see me fight, princess. I’ve been wanting it ever since you talked about it on our wedding day,” he murmurs with a smug smile.

Is he trying to impress me? And why does his attempt at, wait, courting me in his strange and twisted way work?

“Shadow will drive you there. You’ll eat with the guys and then come see the fight. I’ve got it all planned out. Just wear the red dress,” he commands.

What is it about him and this red dress?

My thoughts get interrupted by what he just said.

“Wait, I’ll have to eat there?” Anxiety already tingles in my fingers.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I got it all planned out. Larry’s fixing you something.” His hand falls from my cheek to my wrist as if he’s counting my heart pulses. His jaw clenches, and his gaze softens on me, turning me into a puddle.

“The food thing…I want to, I mean… Could you explain it to me? I just want to understand.” His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist gently. My heart is pulsing hard, and my head is already buzzing as if a panic attack is just around the corner.

“No.” I shake my head, trying to make the sound go away. Apart from Kiara, the only person I ever told always minimized it or made fun of me for being such a picky eater. I gave him the list. That’s enough.

“No?” He raises an eyebrow. I guess most people should be afraid of his gaze darkening on them, but it only attracts me more to him.

Like a moth to a flame.

“You're just gonna mock me, Ares, and I'm done having people judge me for this.” I shrug casually as if this is a normal conversation to me. As if I’m not on the edge of a catastrophic panic attack.

“I won't, I fucking swear.” His emerald eyes pierce my soul with determination. “What happened last time was my fucking fault. I should have known better, Mia.” He bites his lips as if he’s mad at himself. He swallows and then looks at me with intensity, taking my breath away. “You're my wife, Mia. I wanna do better.”

Trust him, he didn’t make fun of you last night.

Just give him a shot.

I don’t argue. The anxiety of the topic distracts me from everything else.

I can do this. I can talk about it. The world won’t stop turning if I talk about it out loud.

“It's complicated, the food, I mean. I'm not sure you could understand.” My hand instinctively plays with my pink nail polish.

“Try me.” His tone is encouraging, serious, weighting the importance of it.

“Okay… So, my mom used to restrict what I could eat when I was little. I think she was afraid I got fat or something, which is stupid because I was just a child,”  I say with a cold laugh because who could ever restrict a child from eating? Ares stays silent, focused on me.

You can do this. He’s not laughing.

“She was obsessed with staying young and fit. I mean, you saw her, she’s perfect and all that. Anyway, I think she made a transfer on me, yelling at me when I would eat carbs or processed foods.” The memories of her taking my plates away at dinner in front of the whole family still haunt me at night.

“Then I became a teen, and that's when she really got heavy with the ‘clean food’ obsession, punishing me when I ate anything other than her approved list like almonds, veggies, and protein bars. It took me time to figure out that I had, um—”

The world won’t stop spinning.

Just say it.

“—an eating disorder. I…I don't like to talk about this, but that's clearly what it is. I asked my parents to see a doctor, but they didn't take it seriously. They thought I was whiny about it. But I looked it up on the internet and plenty of people have it, I mean mostly girls. It's called orthorexia. So…that's that.”

That’s the first time I said it to someone. The first time I explained in my own words fully. When I tried telling it to friends before, I could never go to the full extent of it. They were already too bored or feeling awkward about it. Even Kiara and I never really talked about it. She just knew what to do and knew it was too difficult for me to put into words. I tried going to a doctor by myself last year, but I never made it past the waiting room. I was too anxious to face it and talk to a stranger about it.

Orthorexia.

The shadow haunting my everyday life.

And he’s still not laughing. I’m fighting back the tears and feel his hand move, lacing his tattooed fingers with mine.

Breathe, breathe.

“Thank you for telling me, princess.” His voice is rough yet softer than ever.

“Thank–thank you for listening.”

Am I blushing?

We stay silent like this, the sound of our breathing filling the room until it gets too much, making me want to crush my body into his arms and rest my face on his chest like last night. Close to him. In a safe place.

I suddenly feel too overwhelmed and remove my fingers from his, standing up in my underwear and rushing to the bathroom. Before sliding the door, I turn and look at my husband, whose muscles are still very noticeable under his sleek black suit.

“I’ll see you tonight, big guy.” I find back my confidence once I’m up and on full display.

“Eight o’clock sharp,” he says, watching his silver watch and heading toward the door.

I roll my eyes. What is it about this man and time management? I have my own business, and I’m not that strict about it. Total control-freak.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” Stopping in his step and turning himself toward me, his eyes feast on my body shamelessly. I’m not shy about it. I’m comfortable in my own skin, and showing it never bothered me in the least.

“Maybe,” I say with a sly smile, resting the side of my body on the door, accentuating the curve of my hips.

“You do that again, princess,” he growls, pulling on his jacket, standing in front of me in his black suit, turning me into a puddle, “and I’ll show you exactly what happens when you test me.”

“Oh, in that case I will do it as often as I can,” I dare him.

“Mia…” His hand flexes repeatedly as if something is getting under his skin.

“Come on, where’s the fun if you always get what you want?” Shaking my head, I bite my lower lip.

“I always do, Mia, always, one way or another,” he reveals, cocking his head.

“Cute you think so,” I say before blowing him a kiss in the air. “Now, out of my way, big guy. I’ve got a lot to do today.” And then I close the sliding door with a smug smile. Ares' face is priceless as I watch him disappear behind the sliding door, his jaw ticking and his fists clenching.

Dark, grumpy and dangerous.

In an ideal world, I guess those adjectives would scream "red flag."

But what can I say?

Red just makes me look so good.

Ares

“Still no trace of him, boss. Maybe he’ll show up tonight,” Shadow rasps, rubbing his chin, probably worried about his old lady, Erin.

I’ve secured every family member of my men—doubled security and added protection for the wives and kids. That’s where our enemies hit us. Nero’s been sending pictures of our close ones with red crosses over their faces, and I fucking hate it. Makes everyone tense when we should be focusing on expanding and not on trying to catch this motherfucker. We know they haven’t gotten close yet ‘cause I have intel outside our territory. But we need to find Nero, and fast, before somebody gets hurt.

Red hair flashes in my mind, but I shove it away. The thought reminds me of my girl, her hair all entangled and wild on our sheets this morning. I stayed up late watching her, then woke up even earlier than usual because I wanted to look at her face when she woke up and make sure she was okay. From her sassiness this morning, I think she’s good for now.

It fucking wrapped my chest in barbels when she told me about her mother punishing her with food. I’ve never cared about anyone to that degree, but fuck, knowing little Mia had to put up with so much shit doesn’t sit right with me. Which is why I called her father this morning after leaving our home to set up a meeting. The guy has no idea why we’re coming to see him, thinks it’s a fucking family visit.

Like hell, it is.

“Nah, he won’t be there tonight,” I say as I rest my palms on the wood of our massive mahogany table in the large room where we hold our meetings. Twelve seats decide the fate of hundreds of our men on the ground. I play it democratically because there are always more ideas in twelve heads than in one, but in the end, I always make the final call.

“Nero likes to put up a show. He won’t come directly to us, not here, at least. It’ll be twisted, more personal,” I explain, knowing the guy has a reputation for hitting where it hurts the most.

Family.

Wives.

Mia.

“Yeah, I agree. The folks here said he was trying to get rid of his human trafficking ring to take over drugs. No wonder he’s coming for us,” says my VP Vox from the speaker in the middle of the table. He’ll be there next week when Mia and I go to Chicago to see her family. He’ll make sure everything runs smoothly. Best right man a prez could ever think of. He’s set up three new warehouses, all running day and night on the West Coast and making us a fuck ton of money.

“What should be done about the threats, prez?” asks Blade, standing with his hands behind his back like he used to do in the army. Old habits die hard.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Think, just think, what would you do if you were Nero?

"We're not gonna wait here like sitting ducks," I snap, my voice hardening. "We'll set up teams on the ground and track his every move. I want to know where Nero was last night, what brand of coffee he drank this morning, and what car he plans to drive tomorrow. No stone unturned. We’re going on the offensive—if he’s coming for us, he’ll regret ever trying." I glance at my brothers, who are all nodding firmly.

Good.

“Start organizing the teams. Vox, I need intel on the last shipment intercepted at the Canadian border. Carter, you’ll be on duty with Ash tonight. I’m off to my office. If you need me, you know where I am,” I say firmly, letting Vox take the lead in the meeting and heading to my office, where there’s always so much to do. All the hours in the day could never be enough. Opening my computer, I immediately type what’s been on my mind since last night.

Search: Orthorexia.

I had never heard of this condition, but as she described it to me, I knew she wouldn’t be able to heal from it on her own. And I sure as hell won't make the same mistake her neglectful parents did. I'll find the best damn doctor in the country, and I'll come with her if she needs me to. Already sent a text to the doc this morning to get a list of specialists he’d recommend for her.

As I look into it, I notice patterns I have seen in Mia since she came here. How she avoids certain food groups like carbs and oil, the way her body shuts down completely when she eats out of her list of approved ingredients, and how she literally spirals about mold growing in her body. The way she was concerned about going out tonight, and I fucking knew if I hadn’t asked Larry to make something for her, she would have questioned coming over.

Can’t let this thing run her life, especially such a smart and fiery person like her. I take a bit more time reading interviews about folks who have the same condition and get as much information as I can to be more prepared next time and think about what could trigger her in our home and out of it.

Thinking about my wife’s food. Didn’t think I would ever do that when I married her.

I guess there’s a first time for everything.

And for Mia, I’m ready to go all in.

Chapter 14

Mia

"Hey, guys!" I shout as I enter Shadow’s car, a large black Land Rover, with a gorgeous woman in the back. Her long black hair is styled like a movie star from the sixties. Her green dress is giving; hot wife of the villain in a James Bond movie. She rocks, and by the kind smile on her face, I can already tell we’re going to be friends.

"Mia,” says Shadow with his usual calm and unbothered tone.

"I'm Erin. It's so nice to finally meet you. We didn't really get a chance to talk at your wedding," she says, greeting me like an old friend.

"God, yes, Shadow's girl! I won't lie and say I heard a lot about you because your man is like a secret spy, but I'm delighted to meet you," I admit.

"Your dress is gorgeous. Are you trying to kill Ares before he even fights?" Her gaze follows my red dress and the black stilettos I’ve put on with my red carpet makeup look. I chose to go with a sleek hairstyle, my hair looking even longer now that I’ve straightened it. I giggle as Shadow drives us out of the gates. "Trust me, I couldn't even if I wanted to."

“Yeah, that man has more lives than cats.” She chuckles. “Shadow told me you liked fashion. If you’d like, we could go out next week together and make a day of it?”

“I’d love to. It'd be great to see the last collection for my clients as well.”

“Two birds, one stone.” She smiles, and her kindness reminds me of Kiara. Shadow seems unbothered by us yapping in the backseat, and for a moment, I forget that I’m in a new town with no friends.

“Have you seen many fights?” I ask her, curious to see if I’m the only newbie here.

“Um, let me count,” she taps each finger, “seven if I remember correctly, but Shadow and I like to go watch the big ones in Vegas when he has business there.”

I nod, reassured to see she seems to like watching men hitting on one another, but again, I doubt it’s the same experience when it’s your man fighting in it.

Your man?

As if she can sense my turmoil, her hand rests on mine for a second. “It’ll be alright. Ares is the best fighter I’ve ever seen. He’ll win, don’t worry, girl,” she reassures me.

I smile back, hoping to hide my apprehension.

“Yeah, it’ll be alright,” I mutter.

It’ll be alright.

The rest of the drive is pleasant. Erin talks about her work at a local vet and the last movies she saw. We both burst into laughter when she tries to imitate the dramatic voiceover from one of the action movies she watched last week. Her exaggerated, deep voice catches me off guard, and I can't help but double over in my seat.

"Can you imagine Shadow talking like that?" she says between laughs, trying to keep her voice steady. "I swear, if he ever did, I would lose it." Shadow shakes his head in the rearview mirror like he’d rather laugh about it too.

I giggle, picturing it. "Oh, I don’t think Ares could pull it off either. They’re both so serious most of the time."

Erin bends toward me and whispers loudly like a literal high school girl who can’t restrain her laugh.

"Right? They’re like these big, intimidating guys, but I know for a fact Shadow secretly likes rom-coms. He’d kill me if I ever told anyone." I laugh harder, putting my palm on my mouth, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "Well, your secret's safe with me."

By the time we arrive, I feel lighter, as if maybe everything will be alright. As we step out of the car and approach a tall gray warehouse with huge capital letters at the top, Raven Sons MC Club, the energy switches. There’s hundreds of men out there, all queuing to enter the club while the same amount of motorcycles are parked around the lot.

“Big crowd tonight,” says Shadow, pulling us into a spot farther than the other bikes.

“Why?” I ask.

“Always big when the boss’s fighting,” he deadpans.

Oh.

My palms are getting sweaty as we get out of the car. Ash is right beside me the moment I set my stiletto on the concrete.

“Mrs Malone,” he greets me.

I roll my eyes. “Ash, I told you to call me Mia.”

“Sorry, you’re Mrs Malone here. Can’t get too comfy with the boss’ wife.” He winks and shrugs, his youth making him look almost out of place. Ash has red hair like me. People might almost think we’re siblings. As we make our way to the main entrance, the crowds part like the sea, giving us a clear path straight to the door. They're all dressed in black, with tattoos and scars on most of them, the air crackling with eagerness and the promise of brutality.

They stare at us, especially me, which doesn’t usually bother me. I’m used to getting attention, especially when you’re a redhead who likes to dress like you’re going out to a Hollywood party, but this time’s different.

They don’t look at me with desire, admiration, or lust.

Their gaze drifts down as quickly as they set their eyes on me as if they weren't allowed to look at me. Some of them even turn their face to the side to make sure their eyes don’t fall on me. As if they know who I am. Who I’m married to.

Something in their faces is shining with fear and uneasiness.

A few members of the Raven Sons were at our wedding, but this is a much bigger crowd, and I’ve never been there before.

Do they know who I am?

“Ash,” I murmur, his hand inches behind my back, careful not to touch me but still here to protect me. “What’s going on?” As we walk to the entrance, the air shifts with each step I take. Ash doesn’t answer me, his gaze doing a one-eighty. He may look young, but there’s no doubt that this is where he belongs. Focused, determined to protect me and complete his mission for Ares. Once we enter the warehouse, I sigh with relief.

That was intense.

“Sorry ‘bout that, just wanted to bring you inside safely. Boss told everyone you’d be here tonight.” He grins as if it means something in particular. Erin and Shadow follow us and she steps next to me.

“Well, never a dull moment at the club.” She chuckles. “It’s the first time people get to see you. Hence the staring contest out there.”

“O-okay, that was, um, intense,” I tell her.

“Girl, I’ve been here for years and I never seen that many men fear a woman this way, so yeah intense is kind of the right word.”

“Fear me? Seriously?” I’m surprised by her interpretation.

“You’re the president’s old lady now. It comes with perks and, well, power.” She shrugs her shoulder with a wink. “All the men in the region, if not in the country, know that looking at you the wrong way basically equals the death penalty.”

Oh.

Yeah, I kind of forgot that since my father was a weak man, he never once defended me when men got a bit too comfy with me. I like it better here.

Don’t get used to this. This isn’t a real marriage. It won’t last forever.

I look around and take it all in. The tall ceilings, the bar, the massive shelves of cardboard carrying God knows what, dartboard, pool table, big screen and pin-up posters on each wall with expensive metallic lights hanging from the ceiling, American flags, and a leather couch making me think of westerns I once watch with Kiara when we were little. The Raven Sons emblem rises before me at the top of the wall, the skull surrounded with angel wings with their motto: Riding The Shadows. There’s pictures on the wall on the left of the club members driving together. Where I come from, everything is supposed to be concealed, secret. Even the made men of my father remained in the shadows. All I ever saw was black suits and occasional guns. Here it’s impossible to ignore the pride of the members of the club.

I notice the right corner looks more like a garage with bikes, tools, and parts. I take a step forward and look at the huge octagon set in the middle of the warehouse, something I only saw on television. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is way larger than I thought it’d be, with a cage-like atmosphere that gives it a gladiator feel. The light above it is neon bright, almost blinding us.

Ares is going to fight in this.

“Impressive, right?” says Ash looking at the octagon, his chest setting a bit higher. Cute to see how proud he is to be a part of the club.

“Yeah, but I have a hard time picturing Ares in it,” I admit.

He grins. “Don’t worry, he’s like a fish in water.”

“Where is he, by the way?” I ask casually. Not that I want to act all giddy-wifey in front of his men, but I haven’t seen him since this morning and I kinda want to talk to him before he goes in the cage.

“Follow me,” Ash says, motioning his chin to his left. I glance at Erin, whose hand is entangled with Shadows. They look so good together.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to her and she smiles back.

“I’ll keep you a seat next to me,” she says before walking closer to the octagon, Shadows' hand lingering protectively on her back.

“Carter will be there in a sec,” Ash informs me. “Since Erin came, Ares's gave him the night, so Carter and I will be your official bodyguards tonight.”

“Is it really necessary? Isn’t one enough?” I frown.

“Nah, gotta make sure no one's bothering you or taking you away. Can’t take any risk.” His words send a shiver down my spine.

“Do you do this often?” I ask, curious.

“Protecting? Yeah, I've done it a lot since last year and kind of made it my speciality in the club. Tank calls me the bodyguard, like in the romantic movie, ya know? To piss me off, but I don't mind.” His gaze studies the crowd.

“Okay, I'll try to stay away from the bad guys then. Don’t want you to get in trouble.” Shoving my elbow gently into his ribs, he answers by dramatically resting his palm on his side as if I had hurt him badly. We move down a corridor at the back of the warehouse, each step dimming the light further as we approach the metallic door at the end

“I'll wait there for you.” He knocks two times, then one time on the door. A signal. The sound of a lock makes my finger tingle as Ash rests his back on the wall, motioning me to enter with his hand. I nod, and push open the door, discovering a large office made of wood, metal, mixing rustic style with high hand steel furniture.

Just like his house.

Our house.

Ares’ bare chest greets me and takes me out of my thoughts immediately.

Wow.

I’ve seen my husband's chest before, but in this context, with bandages on his hands, black boxing shorts and ink running all over his body, he looks more like a UFC fighter than a businessman.

Stop drooling.

I close my jaw as a wicked grin appears on his face, his dark gaze softening as he drinks in every inch of me.

“Fuck, Mia. You look—” he rubs his lower lip with his index finger, “edible.”

Edible.

That’s a first.

I’ve been told I’m pretty, beautiful, hot, and all the shebang, but edible? It kind of tops all of them. My hair on my nape rises as he meaders toward me, circling me like a vulture.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Erin and Shadow?”

“I-I wanted to see you before the fight,” I stutter. His brows furrow, his eyes searching me with concern as if he was looking for a sign of injury.

How am I supposed to keep him at arm's length when he does that?

“Just…don’t get hurt,” I manage to say in a breath, the closeness of his body crowding my brain to function properly.

“You’re worried about me, woman?” His thumb strokes my lower lip.

I let him do it for a second before reminding myself who he is and why I’m in his office right now.

A man who collected me as a payment.

A dangerous man known for having no moral compass.

Stepping back, I push his hand away, watching his jaw tick. I clear my throat and run a hand in my sleek hair. Thank God I’ve put that much effort into tonight. It makes me feel much more confident.

“No, I just wanted to make sure I’d still have a husband to run from tomorrow,” I snap.

“Mia.” He tilts his head to the side.

“I’m gonna go now.” I clear my throat. “Have fun.” I turn my back on him like I’m not completely petrified of the idea of him being hurt in that cage. A possessive hand grips my hips, his chest touching my back and towering over me, making my heart skip a bit.

“I know what you’re doing, princess,” he murmurs to me.

“And?” I whisper, my mouth dryer than the Sahara.

“It’ll only make me more feral,” he says in a low tone, inhaling my hair behind my ear and sending millions of sparks in my belly. “You just sit tight in your pretty little dress and watch me destroy that guy. Okay, princess?” I nod twice, wishing I could crawl under his skin and run away from him at the same time.

“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear, then opens the door and lets me walk out of his office, my back still turned to him.

Ares Malone, what are you doing to me?

Ares

Distractions aren’t good before a fight. I need to be sharp, focused, and ready to strike. But all I can think of is my wife and her mouth and her voice and the way she gets under my skin like she was born to do this. Thank fuck I got a workout in before tonight. Otherwise, I’d be jumping off the walls right now.

Her red dress and the way she looked at me, fuck, I may not own her heart yet, but her body is already mine. Reacting to me like fucking fireworks each time I get close to her. Even when we’re just in the same room, there’s an energy in the air, something so thick I’m sure it’s palpable. But owning her desires isn’t enough. Not in the least. Anyone can get a woman lusting over muscles and good looks. It takes much more to entangle someone else's mind with yours.

Body and soul, or nothing.

I’ll break her and rebuild her into a new fucking woman, and then, that’s where she will finally be mine. Destroy the things holding on from her past. Show her we can become more. That our home can be hers forever if she wants too. Not because I will claim her but because she will accept this claim with eagerness, becoming a vital need for her.

Focus, you can think about that later.

I have a lot on my plate. The club, the threats, the expansion, and Mia. But the club comes first, always. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

Business before women.

“Boss, it’s time,” I hear Tank’s voice outside the door. He’ll be cornering me since Vox is in Seattle this week. We’re used to working together. Even when I fight, he’s the one icing my face and giving me his thoughts on the opponent's moves, but Tank will do. He was in the military, had his fair share of violence on the field, a great fighter too. He knows his way around a cage.

Fight nights are always done the same way. Two fights lead up to a bigger one. The first two are usually from guys settling debt and folks betting over them. They have less stakes. People watch them to entertain themselves, grab a beer, and do not care if they miss a punch here and there.

But the last fight is much different. First, because it’s always with one of our brothers from the club. And second, because there are no rules, no limits, no referee to stop one of us from killing his opponent.

I fight most of them, but here and then, Carter, Shadow, Blade, and some of the toughest guys from our club fight in there too. Mostly when they have steam to let off or when they’re having a feud with another guy and want to settle it in the cage. The guy volunteers to get in there. It’s more about ego than anything else.

Those fights are harder to watch.

Raw, bloody, unforgiving.

‘Cause you never know how it's gonna end.

The last one was a month ago, and Carter broke a guy’s jaw with his fists, so much we had to stop him from turning the guy’s face into fucking pudding. Didn’t want to change the floor again. I can tell you one thing, when the guys are fighting, the crowds go fucking wild, but toward the end, when you know who won, you just sit there and watch a guy fucking die or get paralysed for life in front of ya, and I gotta say, you could hear a pin drop.

I walk out of my office, the air still filled with cinnamon and a hint of hairspray.

Don’t think about her.

Not now.

Tank in front of me, I advance from the corridor to the main hall, hearing shouts, hard-rock, and men's voices echoing all around me. They part as if they're burned by the sight of me and my fists, as if they were afraid I'd grab one of them on my way. I crack my neck on both sides, getting closer to the cage as the ceiling lights blind me for a second, the intensity of the energy pulsing in me, preparing me for the kill.

Shadow found a guy who’s been in debt from the club. Brendan McHallor, Canadian, in his thirties I would say, tall but thinner than me, with sleek muscles and a face trying to display confidence. But I know it's just for show. He’s already up there, bouncing on his feet as if his footwork could scare me. Technique isn’t what’s going to save you up there. Nor training or the amount of fucking boxing classes you took in your life.

It’s the adrenaline that’ll make you win.

The intense surge in you as if a beast was tracking you down, ready to snap your neck. This guy is scared as shit. Probably thinks he’s gonna win the club’s favor in his fight, that I’ll give him mercy for his six-month pay due of his rent and protection fees. Gotta be at least three hundred grand late. No wonder he’s here. The guy’s desperate, but he does have the musculature of a fighter, so we’ll see how long he lasts.

The roars of the crowd grow louder as I enter the cage, ignoring on purpose the stunning creature sitting first rank a few feet away from me. She’s got the best seat in the whole place to see me destroy that guy.

I’m here to show strength in front of my men. Why do I want to impress her so much?

McHallor jumps on his feet, punching his fists with one another. He should know that fifty percent of fighting is about mentally destroying your opponent, and mind games just happened to be my thing. So I meander to him slowly, as if I’m ordering coffee or something, and lower my face to him for a second.

“My men already dug your grave up in the valley. Was nice meetin’ ya, pal.” Patting his shoulder with a grin, I step back into my corner. The guy turns fucking livid.

Good, a frightened opponent gets desperate, messy, thinks he’s about to die, and forgets his chances to win. The crowds keep shouting, folks move to get a better view, the music echoes louder in my ears, but I shut it all down. Inhaling deeply once, I turn the chaos into white noise pulsing through me and leaving me in my own space, watching McHallor’s every move as if they’re in slow motion ‘cause I’m that fucking focused. The bell rings and I step forward, ready to show my wife what her husband is made of.

Mia

This is the worst. Literally.

I’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, surrounded by men shouting and roaring, the air thick with sweat and tension. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a social gal, but this isn’t like a cute coffee shop with floral scents and pop music in the background. The only bright side is that I got to eat with Erin in Shadow’s office before the fights, and Larry’s healthy casserole made my day.

The first two fights were brutal, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Two guys beat each other senselessly until some guy with a whistle and a white shirt decided it was over. There was blood, sure, but nothing too bad. Kind of like watching a boxing movie—except here, the sounds of bones cracking and flesh smacking are way too real and way too close.

“Phew, boring, huh? I can’t wait for the last fight,” Erin says, glancing at me with a smile. She seems way too excited about this. More people are gathering around the cage now, and it only makes my hands more sweaty.

This is what they’ve been waiting for.

Ares’s fight.

“Ash?” I call out hesitantly, turning to my right, where he’s been sitting quietly all night. His friend Carter is on the opposite side of the room, a tall blond guy with short hair and a face that looks more like a robot than a human, watching everything like some kind of hawk. He hasn’t even come to say hi to me. So weird.

“Do you know who he’s fighting?” I raise my voice over the growing noise, peeling off my nail polish as my nerves spike.

“Canadian guy. Bulky. Saw him fight once. The guy can manage,” he declares.

“Do you think—” But Ash interrupts me, his eyes flicking to the side.

“Watch. It’s starting.” He points to the right of the room. I follow his gaze to a tall, muscular guy stepping out of the shadows. The crowd erupts in cheers as he enters the cage, pumping his fists in the air like some kind of gladiator. He runs a few laps inside the octagon, pounding his chest like he already won. Testosterone-fueled nonsense.

“That’s Brendan McHallor, crooked with debt to the club. He’s gonna try to ask for Ares’s mercy,” says Ash, rubbing his palms before resting his elbows on his thighs.

So that’s how they settle things here? In cages?

“On your left, Mrs Malone,” Ash says, and I turn just in time to see Ares stepping into the hall. The crowd parts for him, their cheers growing louder, almost frantic. My heart skips a beat as I see him—his strong, imposing figure cutting through the sea of people like a force of nature, wearing only his bandages and black shorts. He walks to the octagon barefoot and this is the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. His naked tattooed chest shining with a thin layer of sweat, his short brown hair disheveled, making him look so attractive I wish I could get closer just to run my hand on his light stubble and feel his musky, manly scent intoxicate me.

Kiara was right. Hot as hell, indeed.

The ground beneath is trembling with the intensity of the crowd’s chants. “ARES! ARES! ARES!” It’s deafening, and my pulse quickens. I glance at Ash and notice a proud grin on his face. Ares walks toward the cage with a calm, almost too casual demeanor, his gaze locked onto the Canadian guy. His attitude is dark, focused, and more animal than man.

So focused that he doesn’t even look at me.

Why would he even bother?

“Girl, your man is in the zone! Look at him,” Erin says as she squeezes my hand quickly. The bell rings, and my breath catches.

Don’t get hurt.

Don’t get hurt.

Don’t get hurt.

Ares moves faster than I expected. His fists fly with brutal precision, and before I know it, he’s landing hit after hit. The other guy stumbles, clearly caught off guard by Ares’ speed. The crowd erupts in cheers, and a wave of relief wash over me. I don’t know a lot about fighting, but that must be good, right? Ares has this under control, just like Ash and Erin promised.

“In the pocket, get in the fuckin’ pocket!” shouts a guy in Ares’ corner, his cut enhanced with the name Tank. I glance at Ash, but his smile has disappeared for a deep frown. Looking back at the cage with Ares and the other guy circling around each other, something shifts.

Ares sends a few hits in the guy's ribs, but the guy recovers, his movements becoming more calculated, more deliberate. He starts landing punches, each one harder than the last. Ares blocks a few, but I can see the impact in the way his body jolts, the way he takes a split second longer to counter. Sweat drips down his face, mixing with the blood from a cut above his eye.

Come on. You got this. Don’t let him get to you.

My palms join instinctively under my chin as I stare at my husband, bleeding in front of me. Ares throws a punch, but the Canadian dodges it, coming back with a brutal fist that sends Ares staggering back.

My heart stops.

The crowd roars, but it’s different now, lower, more hesitant. As if the momentum was turning. And I suddenly get it. Ares isn’t fighting to offer the guy to settle his debt. He’s fighting to show his men and all the others here tonight why he’s the boss and why he’s the only one made for that position. This is so much more than just a fight.

He needs to win.

Not out of pride but out of necessity. If I learned anything from being the daughter of the boss of the Irish Mafia, it’s that your men on the ground won’t move a finger or take a bullet for you if they don’t respect you. I know because my father used to have a hard time getting proper results with his chain of command.

Come on, Ares, show them.

The round ends, with only the ring of the bell and they separate, breathing heavily, eyes locked on each other. Ares is bleeding from one brow, and his chest rises and falls rapidly. The guy from his corner, Tank, is giving him a pack of ice to shove on his forehead.

“Where’s the referee?” I urge Ash. “Why isn’t he there?”

Ash shakes his head. “It’s not a rules type of fight, Mrs Malone. Only two rounds.”

“But—but how do they know when it ends?”

“It’s—” he glances at me, his jaw clenching, “it ends when it ends.”

“What—”

I’m interrupted by the bell of the ring, turning my face to my husband like a magnet. He charges forward, sending two hard hits into the guts of the guy whose face is twisting with pain.

Good, take the upper hand. You got this.

But the Canadian guys seem to handle pain better than I thought and absorbs the blows before hitting Ares in the face, blood dripping from his eyebrows like a faucet. Ares throws a kick, but the guy catches his leg and slams him to the ground.

No, no, no, no.

Erin’s hand grabs mine as if she can feel my fear, all of us staring at the cage before us while I hear Ash muttering curse words. Before I can even process what’s happening, the Canadian guy is on top of Ares, pinning him down, his massive arms wrapping around Ares' neck. He’s choking him. My heart races, panic clawing at my throat, and my fingers start to tingle. I bite my lower lip so hard it hurts. Just as I’m about to stand up and shout at him to stop the fight, Erin’s hand stops me, pushing my thigh down and whispering to me.

“I know, girl, but if you do, he will appear weak.” Her eyes narrow on me with a genuine sad smile. I know she’s right, but…it’s unbearable to watch. He’s struggling, trying to pry the guy’s arms off, but it’s not enough. The guy's arms squeeze him tighter, his skin color turning a darker shade of red. The noise of the crowd fades, and all I can hear is my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

He’s going to die. Right here. In front of me.

When we barely had enough time to argue and spend time together.

Then, just when I think it’s over, Ares' eyes flash open and stare at me for half a second. His gaze turns wild and lethal, his emerald pupils burning into me with intensity. Wild, raw, and unforgiving.

The gaze of a man who has lived a hundred lives and battled a thousand wars.

The eye of a fighter who never gives up.

Turning his body to the guy, Ares slams his elbow into his ribs over and over again until the grip loosens. He bends his body, forcing his way out from under him. And the crowd erupts as Ares gets back to his feet, his face twisted in a mix of rage and determination. Hopping on his feet with an unhinged look at his opponent, like a mad man with no limits. I don’t know if I should be scared of him, of his mind, and the way he seems eager to end the guy in front of him. I feel like I should be scared of him, but…

“Fuck yeah!” shouts Ash, his palms around his mouth like a speaker phone.

Ares’s gaze is locked on the guy on the ground, his fists raining down in a brutal, unrelenting assault. Each punch lands with a sickening thud, and even from where I’m standing, it’s clear the man won’t be getting up again. He’s barely conscious, and Ares seems driven by something primal, something beyond reason. His face is contorted with a fierce, almost feral intensity.

The crowd’s roar is a thunderous backdrop, their chants merging into a chaotic symphony of “ARES! ARES! ARES!” It’s loud, but it feels distant, muffled by the force of the scene unfolding before me. I can barely think. The blood, the crumpled body, Ares’s relentless fury.

Stop, please, just look at me and stop.

Without thinking twice about it, I stand up like I’ve been pulled by an invisible string, stepping toward the cage, the noise disappearing until I’m in my own bubble of silence. My legs tremble, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I reach the cage, and I grab the metal walls with a grip so tight my fingers dig into the cold, unyielding metallic surface. I don’t make a sound, but I stare through the bars, my eyes locked on him.

Look at me.

It’s as if, at that moment, the entire world narrows down to just the two of us. I can’t explain it, but I’m certain he’s aware of me, even through the haze of adrenaline and violence. Like my presence has wrapped around him, an invisible thread pulling at his consciousness.

Look at me. I’m right here.

Ares’s punches slow down, the ferocity in his eyes dimming as if he’s suddenly aware of a different kind of pressure. He glances up, and I can see the moment he feels my gaze on him. His eyes meet mine, and for the briefest of seconds, the wildness in them falters, softens, sparking with something vulnerable, almost intimate.

His lips part and I see him say, “Mia.”

He stops hitting, his fists bleeding over the chest of the other man, his focus shifting to me as he stands up, towering over the unmoving body. The noise of the crowd shouting his name fades back in, but it’s distant now, almost irrelevant. Because Ares stares at me with a ferocity that sends goosebumps all over me before inclining his face to the left.

I should know better and not follow him.

But I do because this man is like an oasis after days of thirst.

He doesn’t even lift his fist in the air like the two first winners of the night. Just gets out of the cage and heads right into the direction of his office, men patting his back and clapping their hands around us. Hard rock is back blasting in the hall but I’ve tuned it out, already following his steps as I feel the rest of the crowd already back into party mode, some of them heading to the bar and others leaving the warehouse.

I follow him as he opens the office door, holding it ajar for me to step inside. There’s no one else in this area. It’s just the two of us. My heart pumps harder, and I swallow hard.

Why am I here?

What happened to pushing him away?

I close the door and look at his modern, sleek office, turning my face to the left door of his bathroom, the sound of the shower making my knees weaken. But I don’t turn and step back into the main hall to find Erin and get back to our house.

Be reasonable.

Get out of here.

Nothing good will come out of this.

I should leave.

I should know better.

I really should.

Inhaling slowly, I bite my lips and step into the room where I find my husband standing, blood dripping all over him as his back rests on the wall, gawking at me shamelessly from head to toe. My belly clenches at the sight.

“Did you come to give me my reward, princess ?” A sly grin lifts the corner of his lips. My breath fastens,  and at that moment, I know that I’m in trouble.

Ares

I couldn’t watch her when I entered the cage. Couldn’t stand looking at her because she would have seen through whatever bullshit I was trying to shield myself from and cut straight to the truth. The fight wasn’t for my men. It was for her. All of it. And fuck me for underestimating that fucking guy and letting the bastard choke me in front of her. Pissed me off so much, it turned me into a beast afterward.

I needed her to see that side of me.

I needed her to see all of me.

‘Cause I’ve been led on in my past and I only want the truth now.

No bullshit, no hiding behind masks, no fucking trying to act like someone you’re not.

I want her to be raw and brutally honest, and in return, she will have the same.

“So, still think it was that simple?” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my flesh cut open at my lower lip and bleeding on my chin.

She shakes her head, all sass and confidence gone, my little Mia shining in the depth of her brown chocolate eyes, threatening me to drown in them. In a mindless movement, she tangles her fingers.

What’s wrong?

I push myself from the wall with the back of my foot and get closer to her still standing in the doorway as if she’s scared to get in. The shower I turn on fills the place with steam. Her eyes turn all watery, and I’m taken off guard. Thought she’d be happy. I didn’t expect a warm congratulations, but fuck, I did almost choke to death to show her I had the guts to win.

“Mia, what’s wrong?” I take her chin in my bloody fingers, marking the most beautiful painting with a crimson stain. She inhales deeply and then, to my surprise, slaps my chest. Hard. I don’t even step back, her little hand barely strong enough to make a mountain like me move an inch.

“You said—” her voice breaks, “you wouldn’t get hurt.” Her empty eyes stare at my chest like she’s already drifting away at the beginning of an episode.

“You said it’d be easy,” her little voice whispers, and it takes everything in me not to pull her in my arms and tell her I’m not hurt, that it was just for show.

No woman ever showed me that much concern.

Could it be genuine?

“Mia, it’s fine,” I lower my tone to reassure her, “really, just a couple of scratches, nothing serious,” I assure her, lifting her chin to make her look at me and try to find an ounce of pretend in her gaze. But I don’t find any.

“You—you got almost choked by the man, Ares. You could barely breathe and—” A thick tear falls from her eye and my rib cage contracts.

Was she really that worried about me?

The woman before her used to laugh at my fights, said they weren’t entertaining enough. That watching reality TV was less boring.

“Fuck, Mia, don’t cry.” Getting closer to her, I pull her in my arms because I can’t stand not touching her, and I’m fucking relieved she doesn’t push me away.

She’s not Iris.

Don’t let her down by comparing her.

Don’t let your mind spiral.

It’s Mia.

You can trust her.

I sigh and stroke her face as my other hand lands on her lower back, keeping her close despite my body aching from the fight. I pull back, and our noses brush.

“Now and then, I need to show my men why I’m the one leading the club. And cracking skulls is a part of it. Whether you liked it or not, I wanted you to see me when I’m not in my black suits making calls and going to meetings. I need you to see me get my hands dirty. ‘Cause I don’t want a wife who shuts her eyes at what I do,” I tell her, the words slipping away from me before I can lock them inside my chest.

“You’ve let me see you,” I tell her, reminding her of her episode. The day she let her mask break in front of me.

The day that changed it all for me.

The day that made four years of bitterness come to the surface and punch me in the guts, daring me to ignore the helpless woman I had in front of me.

“I needed you to see me too,” I admit, the truth hitting me hard in the guts as I inhale the cinnamon scent of my wife and hope she won’t try to run away from me again. Her little hands run to my chest, and she rests her palms on it, making me wince as one of her fingers dig into an open wound.

“Sorry, sorry, I, we need to get you cleaned up.” Shaking her head back to reality, she steps to the bottom of the sink, where she finds an emergency kit.

“We?” I tell her as I grab her arm and pull her toward me again, our faces so close I can inhale her breath and feel her body coming alive at my touch. I’ve just fought a man who almost choked me to death and haven’t got scared from it, but watching Mia moving around, her trembling hands and her little body fidgeting like she doesn’t know where to start, fuck, it makes my heart clench like I’m on the edge of having a stroke.

Can she tell I’m as scared as her?

Scared to let her in and open my dark heart once again for someone to rip it apart?

“Here,” I tell her, showing my hands, “you can start by removing the bandages.” I guide her and watch her focus on the task, careful not to hurt my fingers, and damn, it does something to me.

“What d’ya think of it? The fight, did you like it?” I ask casually while I’m burning to know if she actually liked it. A light shade of pink colors her cheek as she shakes her head, disappointment hitting me like a truck.

“It’s not—” she shakes her head, “I liked watching you, but—”

“But what, princess?” I search in her doll face the answer.

“It was hard to see you get hurt,” she says, taking my breath away.

Iris would have laughed at my face, called me a sissy for taking so long to knock out the guy. But Mia couldn’t stand watching me get hurt, and still, she stayed. She supported me, standing by my side.

The bandages fall on the floor. “I gotta take a shower, then we can rub alcohol where it’s needed.” I turn and step into the shower, the water burning my flesh as I enter it, still wearing my black shorts. I keep them on, letting her questioning gaze fade ‘cause there’s no way I’m taking us into uncharted territory when we’re barely swimming above water.

I rest my back on the shower wall, watching her in her red dress and black heels, her long hair curling back into its natural shape as the steam covers them. She’d put on more makeup tonight, and even though she’s the prettiest creature I’ve ever seen, I’d still prefer her face bare. It makes it easier to see her blush.

My wife is the most beautiful woman I ever got to lay my eyes on. And if I play my cards right and don’t let my past fuck it all up, I may keep her forever.

“Come here.” I lift my hand for her to join me.

“Ares, the water—”

“Who cares? I have clean shirts in the office.” She bites her lip, her chest heaving as she looks at me with something hot burning inside her deep brown eyes. Pulling her feet up, she removes her heels one by one and then steps inside the shower, the water dripping over her dress and hair, creating darker shades of red all over her and turning her into a masterpiece as Venus herself comes out of the water.

“Stunning,” I murmur, our fingers naturally interlacing. She’s close, so fucking close I could grab her and give her a bruising kiss. But I don’t because I’m treading on thin ice right now.

I know it.

She knows it.

And yet, here we fucking are, after months of marriage, after watching each other break in front of the other, we’re still here, together, standing in my office shower and fully aware that we’re about to head to a point of no return. She lifts her hands and, with her index, traces the contour of my tattoos on my chest and shoulders. Her touch ignites a fire in me, spreading into each cell and bone of my broken body.

“I-I’m scared,” she whispers with trembling lips.

I sigh deeply. I’ve never admitted to anyone being scared of anything. Can’t do that when you’re the head of one of the biggest Motorcycle Club in the country. You gotta be tough and strong to inspire your men and have enough guts to lead.

Weakness can’t exist in my world. And yet, she has become the biggest of all. My weakness. My Achilles' heel. The one person that can bring me to my knees. The only one I know I can’t bear to lose or be taken away from me.

I let out a breath; the steam swirls around us, but it’s not the heat of the water that’s making my heart race—it’s her. The way she looks at me, so vulnerable, so terrified and yet with a hint of something warm, something foreign I never got to experience. I’m scared too, is what I want to tell her. But the words catch in my throat, the words too dangerous to let loose. Old habits getting back to me. I’m the one who’s supposed to have it all together, to never let anyone see me flinch, but with her, that armor always feels too thin.

“You don’t have to be scared,” I say, my voice rough, low, trying to convince her, trying to convince myself. “Not of this. Not of us.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one standing at the edge of a cliff,” she murmurs with a sad smile, her voice breathy, light, as if she was talking to herself. If only she knew how much danger she’s putting me in. That I’m right there with her, about to jump on the precipice, holding her hand and not knowing if I’ll ever get up after the fall.

“Don’t fight it, Mia,” I murmur, pulling her close as the blood fades in the water, her dress sticking dangerously to her stunning body, every curve looking more plumped as the water falls on the fabric. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stay fucking focused and ignore the goddess standing before me.

“We’re too different—” Her words are going against her body pulling closer to mine, almost skin to skin, the thin fabric of her dress as the only barrier between us.

“Give us time, Mia. Give us a shot,” I plead, begging a woman for the first time in my life. Cupping her face with my bleeding hand, my thumb brushes against her trembling lips. She leans into my touch, the points of our noses touching, her lips a breath away from me. It’s just us, standing on the edge of something neither of us can take back.

“You think you like me,” she shakes her head, “but I’m just a pretty package, Ares. The inside is empty, rotten, like a disease no one wants to touch.” Tears fall from her eyes. “You’ll see it one day when you get tired of my episodes, when you’ll finally see that I’m just a stupid girl who can’t even eat out like a normal person.”

My black, rusty, barely working heart aches for her. Her words stab through me, and I can see the pain she’s trying to bury beneath that sad smile. She’s carrying this weight, thinking she’s not enough, that her struggles make her less. But I know better. I know that what she’s facing is a war with herself that she has to fight in silence every fucking meal of her life.

I know her battles.

I’ve seen her fight them for months now.

And I’m ready to fight it with her every fucking step of the way.

I clench my jaw, thinking about her neglectful parents and all the shit they’ve put her through to make her think she’s not enough, that her battles make her less. Only now I’m standing by her side, whether she knows it or not, Mia sears into my skin, lighting fires I’ve tried to keep buried for too long.

Iris played me, fooled me into thinking I could become a father to a loveless woman, and made me think that’s how I’d be fulfilled. But I was wrong, so fucking wrong I could laugh out loud if it wasn’t for the tears of my girl in my arms right now. I thought I had it all, but I had nothing until I met Mia.

I hold her face gently, my thumb brushing away the tears that streak her cheeks. Her words hang in the air, bitter and sharp, cutting into the space between us. It hurts to see her like this, to hear her talk about herself like she’s broken, like she’s not worth fighting for.

She’s worth every fight.

She’s the fight that ends all fights.

She’s the ultimate prize.

A small sob escapes her, and I tighten my hold. This could be a trigger for her, to talk about her eating disorder, but I’m not letting her slip away. Not this time.

"Mia," I murmur, my voice rough, strained with the weight of everything I want to say but don’t know how to. "You’re none of those fucking words. None of it. You’re…hurting, that’s what it is.” I’m no shrink, but anyone with a brain cell should see that, right? She looks up at me, her hazelnut eyes shimmering with uncertainty.

“You think I don’t see you?” I continue, our foreheads touching until there’s barely any space left between us. “I see all of you, Mia. The way you like to get your morning green thingy every day, the way you smile at Maria ‘cause you like having her around, the millions of clothes you put on the floor of our bedroom because it helps you to surround yourself with things you love, the sad face you make when your mother doesn’t answer your calls, the discipline you got with your sleep schedule and your weird dancing workout—”

“Pilates, it’s Pilates.” A chuckle escapes her while a tear forms on her jaw.

“Yeah, right, Pilates. See? I see you and all your quirks and thousand hobbies you like to do before sleep and all the knitting projects you’re working on in the living room and the way you twirl when you feel good about your clothes,” I tell her, hoping she’ll get it.

That every day, I learn more about her.

That every day, she amazes me more.

“I see you, princess, all of you. Even the parts you try to hide. Especially those parts. And I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, she just stares at me as if she’s trying to make sense of my words. Her fingers clutch at my arms, holding on like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispers, her voice small and fragile.

“You just gotta be you, Mia. That’s enough for me. That’s more than enough.”

She lets out a soft, broken laugh as if she doesn’t believe me, but there’s a glimmer of something in her eyes—hope, maybe, or the tiniest sliver of trust. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.

Her lips are inches from mine, her sweet breath mingling with me in the steamy air of the shower. My cuts and bruises fade away as my mind focuses on the only thing that matters.

“You said I’d be the one begging for you,” a murmur of provocation escapes her delicious lips, taking me off guard and switching the energy around us.

Yeah, that’s my woman right there.

“I did say that.” A smile tugs at my lips, ‘cause damn, her trying to take charge is pleasing me more than I should admit.

“Well…if you want to kiss me, Ares, I think you’re gonna have to get down on your knees.” I know this isn’t about ego or pride anymore. That ship sailed the day I held her during her panic attack. This is about making sure I’m jumping off the cliff with her.

“I’ve never begged anyone in my life, princess,” I rasp, my hands slowly falling off her hips.

“I know,” she murmurs, knowing the weight of what she’s asking me.

“What makes you think I’d go on my knees for you?” I push her more, wanting her to lead, to witness my girl get her confidence back.

“Because a king knows when to bow for his queen,” she whispers, and her words strike me.

“Mia—fuck.” I fall on my knees, my ribs pulsing with pain and my head getting dizzy from how much blood I lost. I stare at her widening eyes. Both of us are silent while I watch her lips part, as if she didn’t think I would do this.

If only she could see that I would fall on my knees every day of my life for her. I’ll show her she’s enough every fucking day of my existence. That her essence stained my heart in an irreversible way, slowly erasing the betrayal from my past with her sweet and fiery nature.

“Let me kiss you, princess,” I command. She shakes her head, her bronze gaze staring at me with lust and a spark of fear mixed together.

“I think you can do better,” she challenges me.

“Mia...” I shut my eyes for a second and push on my last thread of patience.

“I know you can do better.”

I sigh, wanting to punch a wall for having to wait a second longer to touch her lips, but then again, nothing in my life worth living ever came easy.

“My little tornado, light of my world, darkness of my heart, will you let me bruise your lips and make you crave a fire only I can ignite?”

Yeah, I can be a fucking poet when I try.

Her lips part as I squeeze her hips harder, her chest facing me because that’s how small my girl is. Her dangerous gaze drifts to my mouth as she licks her lower lips, sending waves of electricity through me.

Come on, Mia. Let me in.

Then, she nods, ever so slightly, as if my words had cut through her walls. I pull her hips down and make her straddle me as I sit on the floor, droplets of hot water falling on us as my palm reaches the side of her face, watching for a second the masterpiece in my hands, her dress soaked and her hair sticking to her shoulders, making her look like a vision coming out of a dream.

“Mia,” I rasp before closing the gap between us, pressing my lips to hers in a soft and hard kiss, her mouth responding immediately to me as if she’s made for this, for us. Her hand drifts to my shoulders, pulling her body closer to mine as the heat pumps through us, our gasps swallowed by the sound of water dripping on us. Resting my hands on her back and nape, I kiss her deeply, her sweet cinnamon scent invading my every thought, her soft skin my every dream, her small moans my every desire. She tastes like candies and blood. When we finally pull apart, she rests her head instinctively on my chest, out of breath, tracing circles on my shoulder with her index.

I kiss her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. “Let’s go home now.”

Chapter 15

Mia

Ares brought me back to the house last night after giving me a clean black shirt to put on in place of my drenched dress. We took the backdoor of the club, far from the crowd, and drove home in his suv. He talked a bit with Carter and Ash in the parking lot before we left, giving them directives for something. We didn’t talk the whole way home, the weight of what we had done hanging heavy in the air.

I thought this marriage would be a golden cage filled with loneliness and indifference. But Ares keeps knocking the walls down around my heart with a hammer made of trust and determination.

Could I handle it?

Was I too broken to give him the keys to my heart?

Or was I blinded by hope and seeing what I wanted to see?

I was holding on to my issues, their familiarity grounding me, helping me know who I was. I wish I were one of those girls going to therapy and making cute quotes on their social media, telling people to accept happiness and not let their traumas define them.

Only mine do.

They are me, and I am them.

And with Ares sliding through the cracks of my battles, I was starting to see the light, the promise of healing in and out of my body. My fingers tingle at the realization.

What would my life be if I didn’t have to fight for every meal? If I didn’t have to be afraid of coming home? Was I capable of creating such a life?

Tossing and turning in the sheets, I look at my husband sleeping, the morning light cutting through the velvety curtains. The many cuts on his chest, arms, and face were cleaned and stitched by the Doc who came and fixed him up when I was doing my skincare last night. This old man must have seen it all.

“Hi,” Ares says, his voice still sleepy and raspy like gravel. His green eyes open slowly, the light hitting him too hard for his liking. There’s a cut on his brow and one on his lips, but still, describing him as handsome would be the understatement of the year.

I smile internally because that’s the first time I find him…adorable?

Mia, stop it.

I like him.

I like my grumpy, dangerous, moody, control freak of a husband.

Sue me.

Our kiss last night is still haunting me, the softness of his lips and the roughness of his hand sending shivers down my spine and making my belly fill with butterflies.

“Hi,” I say softly, turning on my side to face him, my hand under my head. “It’s already nine-thirty, in case you want to go back to the club—”

“Nah,” he rasps, “I’ll go back in a bit.”

“Are you sick?” I hold back from touching his forehead as if he might have a fever from last night's fight. He chuckles, his voice low and thick, holding my heart in its grasp.

“We got somethin’ to do this morning,” he states as I look at him.

“We?”

“Well, it depends on ya, princess.” He shrugs.

“Are we playing charades? What are you saying?” I turn my palms dramatically to the ceiling. Sitting on the bed, the covers hiding his legs and displaying his bruised chest like a painting, I hold back from dropping my jaw and focus on his lips as he talks. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs, looking away.

“Remember when you told me about your parents refusing to send you to a specialist?” The energy in the room shifts like a bomb collapsing on the ground, destroying any sign of familiarity.

“Wha-what about it?” I murmur.

“I looked into it, and I found someone, a therapist, specialized in your condition. Read a lot ‘bout him and from patients who recovered after seeing him.” My heart quickens as my hands start to shake. “I called him and got him on the first plane I could.”

“Ares, wait—”

Glancing at his watch on his bedside table, he says, “He’ll be there in an hour.”

I stare at him like he’s just told me the moon was made of gold.

A specialist?

A wave the size of a building is crashing on me, pulling me apart and reminding me of all the times I thought there would never be a way out of this.

Ares had searched for a specialist.

For me.

My skin is tingling with goosebumps as drops of sweat slide down my back, the news taking me by surprise and making everything around me spin.

“Wh-why did you do that?” The words barely make it out.

His green eyes soften, serious. “Because it’s time, Mia.” His palm reaches out for my shaking hand, lacing his fingers with mine like a real couple would.

“When someone falls, you get them to the hospital and put a cast on it. And that’s it, end of the story. That’s the same for you, princess. You got somethin’ in ya you can’t heal by yourself. Like you’ve been walking all this time with an injured arm. It’s the fucking same. And it’s time you finally get the care you need.”

I want to say thank you. I want to hide in his arms and cry my heart out for his gesture. But the words stay stuck in my throat, unable to come out.

Because orthorexia has always been a part of me.

That’s all I’ve ever known.

Just like some days of your life define you, they become a part of your story of why you became the way you are. They hold the tale of your deepest scars, disappointment, and regrets. They shape you until you can’t dissociate them from you anymore. Until they become so entangled in yourself that any glimpse of hope pulling you away from it ends in denial, rejection. Your brain sticks to the script of the story you kept telling yourself over and over, as if you couldn’t evolve, change, as if you could never have the guts to do so.

Who am I without my eating disorder?

I open my mouth to protest, to say I’m not ready, that I can’t face this. But something about the way he looks at me stops the words from coming out.

Don’t tap out.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

“I don’t know if I can do this…”

“It’s your call, Mia. If you don’t feel ready, I’ll send him back home. But if you want to try, he’ll be waiting in the living room,” he says simply, his hand reaching my cheek, stroking it gently.

“Why did you do this?” I whisper, shaking my head.

“I told ya—”

“No, why did you do this for me?” I take away his hand that strokes my cheek. Needing the lack of his touch to focus, to understand. Kissing me, that I understand. It was necessary. It was vital. It had become a need so strong, both of us were on the edge of collapse if we didn’t do it.

But this? This is next level. This is so close to…love.

Grabbing my arm, he pulls me closer, his manly scent invading my every sense.

“Why can’t you just accept it, Mia?” His voice rolls on me like honey.

“Accept…what?”I murmur, suddenly out of breath.

Turning his face on the side, he shuts his eyes for a second.

“You’re my wife, Mia, and I’m not spending a single more minute of my life watching you terrified to eat a fucking bite of food. Your parents fucked this up, but I won’t, not on my watch,” he states with a stern and grave face. “Now get dressed. We’re having breakfast before the session.”

“You’re staying?” I ask, confused.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I, I’m not sure, you have so much work—”

“Do you want me to stay?” he repeats.

I nod, silently, not knowing if I should be mad at him for forcing this on me but I’m just so grateful for his commitment to help me heal that I choose the second one.

“Good.” Grabbing my wrist, he turns it and leaves a hard wet kiss on the inside, my skin shivering at his touch, reminding me of last night.

“Now go get dressed. I’ll wait for ya in the kitchen, princess,” he orders with a wicked smile.

“Ares Malone, are you making me breakfast?” I choose humor over the stress of knowing that Larry won’t be the one making it.

It’s okay.

Breathe.

Ares will make something you like.

Ares chuckles, standing up, his black sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. The god of war himself, stretching his arms with muscles that ripple beneath his inked skin, cracking his neck with a smirk that sends all my senses on alert.

“Stop gawking at me, woman, and get your ass downstairs,” he orders, heading for the bathroom.

So bossy.

I shove the covers away and slip into a light blue maxi dress. Before I leave, I glance at my phone and see a missed call from Kiara. She must have wanted to know if the fight went well. I had talked to her about my fears yesterday but I forgot to keep her updated.  Walking past the door, I text her quickly.

Mia : Call me back at lunch Kia, so much to tell you. Love ya <3

Ares

Business over women.

Always.

Always?

Always, but just a bit less today because for the first time in my life, I’m having breakfast at home, in my kitchen, with my stunning, smart-as-hell wife.

I checked my emails before showering, and Vox informed me about a new lead on Nero’s tracks. The fucker has been seen on the edge of our territory. We’ve put men on his tracks to find him and hopefully get him as soon as possible into the hand of Carter. Then, it’ll be a delight to get all the information out of him, cuts after cuts, teeth by teeth.

Such important information should make me head directly to the club after my shower but, having the doctor here for Mia changes the plan.

What did you use to say?

Business over women my ass.

No, that’s just a compromise. I’m not losing focus on my priorities. The club is above all else. This is just, um, a one-time setback.

No big deal.

None.

I step into my warm and inviting kitchen, the light of the woods outside invading the whole room.

Fucking beautiful place.

“Hello, sir,” says Larry, eyes wide, his white blouse immaculate, just like his hair and beard, rolling a dough for what looks like bread.

“Hi, Larry.” It’s been a while since I've seen him here in the morning. I step to the fridge and open the door.

“Do you know where Mia's list is?” I rasp as I look at the content of the fridge, so fucking full, the fresh ingredients almost spilling out of it.

“Yes, sir, I’ve printed two lists,” he points his flour’s covered hands to the side of the fridge, “and here, I keep this one with me, easier to move it around when I need to check.” He points to another one next to his dough. Larry’s been with me for years, he was my father’s cook and became mine right after dad passed away. Grateful to have him around, especially now. Kind of man who used to sprinkle pieces of advice to me when I was hanging out in the kitchen as a teenager wearing my first bruises from fighting with other teens for shits I couldn’t even grasp. The old man always kept a protective eye on me, so it was only fair for me to do the same now that I was prez.

“Thanks.” As I close the door, I take the list from under the magnet.

Favorite foods: fruits (except bananas) and vegetables (no potatoes), nuts (except cashews), non-fat dairy products and lean proteins, green tea.

Food to avoid: carbs like pasta, rice (except sweet potatoes), fat (except avocado, salmon), soda and any form of processed foods.

Wow. That’s a fucking lot of rules.

Running my hand in my hair, I notice Larry grin from the corner of my eyes.

“That’s quite the challenge you gave me, son.” He shakes his head with a smile. Now and then he likes to call me that and I let it slide. He saw me grow up and I get that calling me sir all the time isn’t always natural to him.

“Yeah, I know, but you’re doing great, Larry. I appreciate it.” I pat his shoulder for the first time. He nods briefly and I wonder if I got it wrong or if  his eyes are getting watery or some shit.

The old man clears his throat, rolling the dough with intensity. “Mrs Malone's favorite foods are all in the first and second level of the fridge. I’ve come to notice Mrs Malone is rather fond of strawberries, yogurt, and oats.” He glances back and forth between me and the fridge with his brows up. Not very subtle, but I appreciate his help because he knows a man like me would rather get driven over than asking for help.

I nod and take out the ingredients before putting them in a bowl for her. Trying to display the strawberries in a way that would be nice while Larry glances at me, biting the inside of his cheek.

I’m so fucked, don’t I know it.

“Hey, Larry,” a sweet voice comes out of the hallway as Larry’s face erupts in a large fucking smile like he just won the lottery. “How’s the hydrangeas? Did you plant them with Dolly?”

I shake my head to the old man, wondering what the fuck this is about.

“We did, Mrs Malone. She really liked them, thank you for asking,” he says softly, his cheek flushed.

“I’ll, um, I'll go cut some herbs in the garden,” he stutters, wiping his hands and rushing to the door leading to the garden in the back of the house. Mia is moving around like a fish in water, rising on her feet to grab a mug. I step toward her and get it for her, my fingers brushing hers as I give her the mug.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, a little smile appearing on her face. “He had a date with a certain Dolly. They met at a gardening convention, it’s a whole thing and I’m living vicariously through him,” she says.

“Gardening? Really?” I furrow my brows.

“Yeah, I know. Lar is a super sweet guy, just had to learn to get to know him better. Now we’re besties!” She giggles, grabbing a green tea bag and putting the kettle on.

Lar?

How come I’ve never noticed this about him? And how come my wife makes the old man blush like a teenager?

Maybe I’ve underestimated Mia’s effect on my life.

If she does this to the people in our home, does it mean it also works on…me?

I gotta be careful, can’t turn into a fucking softy with her smiles and warmth all around me now.

Come on, who are you trying to fool?

“Is this…for me?” She points the bowl on the white counter, oat, and strawberries all over the fucking place, mixing with the yogurt as if someone had already dug a spoon in it.

I’m the President of a powerful MC club. I know how to hunt, chase, kill, torture, hide murders, and grease hands when I need to.

But making a cereal bowl for my wife? That I can’t even do correctly.

“It’s, Larry said, shit. It’s, um, he said you would like it.”

“Oh.”

“I can throw it and you can pick somethin’ else if you want—” Grabbing the bowl, I’m ready to throw the damn thing in the trash.

“No, no, it’s perfect.” She pulls a strain of red hair behind her ear. Her long hair is curled like loose waves, the silk of her blue dress revealing the shapes of her chest without it being over the top. She doesn’t even have makeup on. Stunning, so fucking pretty I could take a bite of her and never be satisfied.

“It reminds me of our wedding day,” she whispers, looking at her feet.

Nah, that won’t do.

Lifting her chin with my fingers, I take the opportunity to stroke her lower lip, reminding me of our kiss last night. I haven’t stolen another one from her since then, paralyzed between longing for more and accepting the truth behind it.

A four-letter word.

Four fucking letters eating me from the inside, tearing my black heart apart, making her the center of my universe, my greatest weakness, the target my enemies would now seek.

“You okay, princess?” Her lips part subtly at my touch.

She nods but something darker sparks in her eyes, something aching, spreading, consuming her. And fuck, I’d like to say I’m the reason behind it, but I know better. My girl is probably terrified of what we’re about to do after breakfast.

Get to work, what are you still doing here?

If she needs me, I can’t be a fucking mile away.

If she needs me, I need to be there to hold her dainty little hand and tell her I got her back.

It won’t take long. I'll be back at the club in no time.

I show her the stool. “Sit, I'll bring your tea.” She sits on it and fidgets with her perfect pink glittery nails.

“Could you give me the jar of lemon water in the fridge, please? Larry always makes it for me, I—” she swallows, “I have to have it first thing in the morning, otherwise—”

“Hey, you don’t have to justify yourself, here,” I tell her, giving her the weird blurred water. Could never drink that. What’s even in that thing? But whatever, she wants it, she got it.

“Thank you,” she whispers. I turn around and grab a piece of bread, spreading peanut butter and jelly inside and digging in it while still standing, my cup of coffee in the other hand.

Mia pours the lemon thing in her glass, then drinks it slowly as if she’s expecting it to have a magical effect on her. Then she digs in her bowl, checking each bite before eating them, just like on our wedding day. My chest aches at the sight of her, looking at her food like she’s about to poison herself. The kettle stops and I pour hot water in her mug.

My girl got her little routine all set up,  she’s really settling into our home and the thought of it makes me stand taller. She may not admit it now, but this house has become her home as much as it’s mine. I sit next to her, both of us eating in a comfortable silence until a small knock echoes from the hallway.

“Mrs Malone, Mr Malone, good morning,” Maria says with a warm and composed smile. “Sir, the doctor is here, I’ve asked him to wait in the living room just like you asked.”

“Thanks, Maria, tell him we’ll be there in a sec”. Maria disappears, discreet, always here when I need her but never when I want to be on my own. Mia spoon falls on the counter, her fingers stumbling to get it back. I reach out and put my hand on her. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s, um, are you going to the club now?” Her chocolate eyes widen with worry.

“Yeah, figured I’d shake his hand and head out to let you both talk it out,” I explain.

“Ok-okay.” She nods, her head falling back like she’s swallowing tears.

“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on?” I urge, not getting this sudden change of heart.

“Could—no really, I’m asking too much of you, it’s—” she mutters.

“Mia, just tell me, princess.”

“You’re really convincing for a fake husband…that’s all.” Her voice breaks with sadness. Grabbing the side of her throat gently, I step closer, her little body still sitting on the stool as I force her to spread her knees to get closer. Then, because I’m just a man who’s been forced to back out for the last hour and my resolve is about to snap, I angle her to look at me and kiss her sweet pouty lips as tenderly as my roughness allows it.

“Is that fake to you?” I demand her, daring her to contradict me.

A trembling exhale escapes her lips. “I think, I think I’d like you to stay.” Her eyes grow watery. “But it won’t be pretty and—”

“I’ll stay,” I grunt, kissing her once more, showing her I’m right fucking here. Her hazelnut eyes widen, her hand naturally rising to my chest, as if we had always done this. Eating together, talking stuff out over breakfast. Like any normal couple. Pushing her bowl away, she stands and laces her fingers with mines.

“Ready?” I ask her, searching for any hint of panic in her face.

She answers me, nodding with a shy smile, “Ready.”

Chapter 16

Mia

Breathe.

Don’t freak out.

It’s going to be alright.

After exchanging pleasantries with the doctor, we all sat in the living room, Ares on my right on the beige sofa and Dr Ofenhaus in front of us, dressed like a scholar with his navy blue wool jacket and brown pants, the table as the only barrier between me and his skills. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but he’s young, very young, perhaps just a bit older than me. Short brown hair, warm smile, calm voice, and eyes that move fast like a machine registering as much information as possible. Made me think of an eagle right away. Sharp, straight to the point. No bullshit. Now that I think about it, Ares wouldn’t have wanted it any different. He’s like that too. Not the kind to circle around the bushes. His shake was firm, not that I’m the kind of girl to judge a person on the way they shake hands, but in this situation, I kinda am. If I get a “you’re in a safe place” kind of approach, I will land my fist in his face so fast he won’t have the time to see it coming. I don’t want pity. I want help.

Sitting next to Ares, my fingers dig into the cushy fabric of the luxurious sofa. I try to steady my breathing with his protective hand sliding behind my back.

“So, Mia,” the doctor starts, his tone direct, leaning forward. I’m kind of surprised he didn’t lose his shit from the way Ares towered over him like a fighter ready to break the poor guy into pieces. Must be one hell of a doctor.

“Ares told me about your struggles with food. I understand how hard it can be to let someone in on something so personal.”

Wow, as I said, not wasting any time.

The word food somehow stings, and I feel the panic rising in my throat. My hands begin to shake a bit, but Ares’ touch steadies me as his fingers gently graze mine. I don’t pull away.

Dr Ofenhaus watches me carefully.

He knows.

I nod mechanically, not knowing what to answer to him or how this kind of session is supposed to happen.

“I’m not here to push you more than you can handle, in the same way that I’m not here to judge you or trigger you. I’ve been working with patients for over five years now, all suffering from orthorexia, and most of them recovered, especially the ones who had a strong support system around them.” He glances at Ares in an approbative nod.

“Let’s start simple.” He pauses, sitting back in the chair. “Do you think you could explain to me what it’s like for you to eat outside your home?”

“Outside, you mean, at a restaurant?” I ask.

“Restaurant, friend’s houses, anywhere where you wouldn’t have total control over what you're going to be served.” His fingers cross like a pyramid.

Ares's phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it.

He NEVER ignores phone calls. Why isn’t he picking up?

“I don’t know how to explain—”

“Just say what’s on your mind, and we’ll go from there.”

I notice Ares looking at me from the corner of my eye and sliding his palm on my hand, squeezing it lightly.

You’re okay.

Breathe.

“Apart from one or two places where they make the food in front of you, like the coffee shop, I like to go take my matcha latte in the morning. Apart from that, um—”

Tears blur my vision, the words stuck in my throat.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You can’t even talk about that. You’re a mess. Look at yourself.

Clearing my throat, I gather enough courage to say the words that make me cringe internally before even pronouncing them.

“It’s like, it’s like being stuck in an aquarium, and…you hit on the glass because you can’t breathe. The water is coming in from…everywhere, but no one sees you drowning. You’re just there, in front of people, knowing you’re about to die and no one hears you. You’re all alone.” A thick tear falls down my cheek, and Ares squeezes my hand once more.

“You’re doing great,” he murmurs, just for me to hear.

“Why do you think you’re about to die?” the doctor asks in a neutral tone.

“Because, because the food I ate isn’t’...” I shake my head, searching for the right word.

“Clean?” he suggests.

“Yes…exactly, I can’t check if it’s organic or if it has oil or carbs in it. I can’t make sure that the vegetables are steamed properly. I can’t count the calories if there’s sauce. It’s just overwhelming. And when I have to eat something like that, I feel like I’m poisoning myself with something my body can’t handle because it’s not really food. It’s processed, full of fat, chemicals, and things I don't know of,” I explain. “Every meal is a battle,” I admit, my voice trembling. “I’m constantly judging whether I’m making the right choice.”

“Understood,” he says. “And when you say ‘right choice,’ what criteria are you using?”

I hesitate. “I have to make sure it’s perfect—nutritionally balanced, clean. If it’s not, I feel like I’m failing.”

“I see, this is very normal for any patient suffering from orthorexia to see food as good or bad, clean or not. Could you tell me what happens when you have to eat something you don’t want to eat?”

Ares' phone vibrates again, this time twice in a row. Must be the club, and something important for someone to call him three times. He takes his phone out and mutes it without even looking at who called him.

Why isn’t he taking the call? He must have so many more important things to deal with.

“Sorry, could you repeat the question?” I bring my eyes back to the doctor.

“How do your triggers manifest themselves when you eat something you didn’t want to eat?”

“Oh, um…” I pull my hair behind my ear with my free hand and feel so stupid for having to explain to a stranger I have several panic attacks each time I eat outside of my approved list of food.

“Mia has panic attacks, intense ones,” Ares' firm voice says blankly, and I internally thank him for taking the lead on this.

“Have you ever been with Mia during one?”

“Yes,” he says, his tone low and heavy.

“On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most intense state, in how much distress would you describe Mia’s state during an episode?” the doctor asks him.

“Ten,” Ares says without a second of hesitation. Writing something in his notebook, Dr Ofenhaus nods, his brown eyes landing on me.

“You’re not alone in this, Mia. I’ve been treating patients in the exact same condition as you for years, and from what I can tell, you’ve got all the cards in hand to heal. I think the first step we should work on is removing the pressure around food and the rules your mind created about them.”

I nod, though I’m not entirely sure I understand. “What do you mean?”

“It’s about finding a balance,” he explains. “We’ll work on understanding why these rules are in place and how to gradually make changes without feeling like you’re losing control. Most of the time, those rules come from childhood or from significant others who taught us those rules, especially parents, siblings, or even friends. We’ll have to get to the root of it to impact your day-to-day actions.”

I glance at Ares again, who is watching quietly, giving me the space to process. I take a deep breath. “When—when can we start?”

The doctor smiles. “We’ve already started, and you’re doing great, if I may say so.”

I glance at Ares, pride pouring out of his gorgeous eyes as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

“We can start with a session a week and adjust depending on your progress,” Dr Ofenhaus says calmly. “This is a process. It’s about gradual change, not perfection. You’ll set the pace, and we’ll adapt as needed.”

I exhale slowly, feeling a bit more at ease with his approach. “Okay, yes, that makes sense.”

“Until next week, we could set a small challenge for you, and you'd tell me next time how it went.”

“Like what?”

“You could try a bite of something that is a little bit outside your comfort zone, like a piece of candy, for example? Or a juice from the store, not a fresh pressed one?” he suggests.

“Um…, okay.” My voice falters at the idea of it.

“It's up to you, Mia, no pressure. Perhaps you could just look at it and take notes on how you feel and we would work on that for the next session.” He smiles at me gently with no judgment or disdain, and I really appreciate it.

“We'll work on it, doctor. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” says Ares, standing and shaking Dr Ofenhaud's hand.

“Of course, you were rather generous, sir. It’s only fair I'd made myself available for your wife,” the doctor’s voice flinches slightly as if having Ares towering over him was shaking him more than he could admit. I stand and instinctively meander next to Ares, brushing his hand.

“Mia, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our next session,” says the doctor with a warm smile.

“Thank you, doctor,” I reply. The pulse of my heart is regular compared to the beginning of our session.

“I'll show myself out. Good day.” He nods before turning his back to us and heading to the entryway. Once the doctor is out of the living room and in the hands of Maria, Ares turns to face me, his hands sliding from my hips to my face, his gaze searching mine with an intensity that sends shivers through my spine.

“You did so good, princess. I'm so fucking proud of you.” He kisses my forehead roughly.

I shouldn't care that he's proud of me. But I am, and it makes my belly churn with hot, dripping lava.

“I don't know how to thank you for this,” I tell him, playing with my nail polish.

“You don't have to, never.” He smirks. “In sickness and in health.”

I smile back, fake punching his chest.

“What was that about?” I point at the phone in his pocket.

“Nothing that could be more important than what we were doing.”

Did he ignore important calls just for my sake? Why would he ever do that? The club is his life's work. His number one priority.

Checking his phone quickly, he announces, “Shadow and Ash will be here in an hour. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, we'll go grab my matcha, and then I have some work calls this morning,” I tell him. “Oh, and I'm going shopping with your sister this afternoon. She needs a new dress for the exhibition she told me about.” Ares frowns.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don't like when you go out of the house,” he mutters like a caveman.

“Seriously?” I roll my eyes dramatically.

“Can't know with certainty there's not a fucker out there trying to take you away from me,” he says with a low and deep voice echoing from my flesh to my bones.

Does he care about me…that much?

“We…we will have Shadow and Ash, and she also has her bodyguards. It'll be alright. You can't keep me locked up here.” I shake my head at my possessive and unreasonable husband.

“Sometimes I wish I could,” he murmurs with a sly grin, stroking my cheek softly.

Flirtatious Ares is really hard to resist.

“I have to go now, princess. You'll be alright?” He checks my eyes as if he can read into my darkest thoughts.

“Yes, and don't go all soft on me, big guy.” I push his chest playfully with a smile.

“I know, you're not like glass, princess. You're made of gold. So fucking stunning and still, so fucking strong,” he says, taking my breath away.

Like gold.

No one ever described me this way.

Then, he grabs my ribs on both sides, lifts me up from the floor, and kisses me brutally for a total of five seconds before leaving me here, panting, in the middle of our living room.

A few minutes later, Maria strides in,

“Would you like a refreshment, Mrs Malone ?”

“Um, yeah, I mean, yes. Water, please, cold with lots of ice cubes,” I say, shaking my head to land back to reality.

She nods with a little smile then turns back to the kitchen.

Ice cold water.

That's exactly what I need right now.

Ares

“Prez.”

“Ares.”

“Mornin’ boss.”

My men greet me once I step into the warehouse, my watch indicating ten o'clock, which is three hours past my usual schedule. I called Vox on the way, who literally lost his shit on me for not calling him back sooner.

I was busy.

Busy?

The team we got on Nero found that he would be meeting with a supplier about twenty minutes away from the club. We’ll trap him there. Ambush the guy with our best men, then bring him back to our basement and break him slowly here, then we’ll take over his cities and eliminate him and all his fucking threats.

Vox and I agreed to keep his girl, Rose, and Mia, in my house to keep them safe and guarded. It won’t be easy, but we’ll have to plan this fast and make sure it does not end in a bloodbath like my father did the day he tried to take over another Chapter and ended up with a bullet in the lung, costing him his life.

“Boss, can I talk to ya?” Carter’s voice echoes behind me as I reach the door of my office.

“Sure.” Opening the metallic door, I let him pass. His gigantic stature barely fit in the doorway, his blond hair disheveled, his cut still on him. Carter is my enforcer, the best one in the country. Found him when he was barely a man, helped him find an outlet for his anger and he’s now as much feared as me across the country.

I don’t bother offering him to sit. Carter’s never been into social interaction and pleasantries. Goes with his occupation. He got better at reading us with time, but I always notice how he keeps on searching the movement of our faces to make sure he gets our feelings right. Some folks would call him a sociopath. I just call him Carter. He’s a great guy and always has the club at heart. I’d trust him with my life. And I did, the night he took over Shadow to protect Mia.

“I liked doing protection at fight night.” Straight to the point. The good thing with Carter and his absence of social cues is that he never loses time with bullshit small talk.

“You did?” I narrow my eyes on him.

“It felt as good as when I’m in the basement.” So he really liked it then. Alright, I think I see where this is going. Carter never asks for anything; we bring him guys, and he deals with them. That’s how we always did this.

“I would like to try to do this more.” His voice is blank, with no emotion, no possible way to read him.

“I’ve been wanting to get Shadow back on the field since that Nero shit started. Think you could put up with Ash?” Our youngest member, fucking great fighter, especially with knives, hence why I’ve chosen him to keep Mia, and also because he’s a cheerful guy and I knew my little tornado would have a blast with him. But by adding Carter to the mix… I would need to get another enforcer, which isn’t ideal…

“We can give it a shot this weekend, Saturday night. Mia’s got an exhibition at my sister’s gallery. I won’t be there until late. I’ll need you and Ash to keep her safe. Think you’re up for this?”

“Yes, boss,” he states with no hesitation.

“Mia’s the most precious thing I have in this fucking world, so-” The words slip from me before I can keep them in.

“I’ll protect her with my life,” he assures me.

Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.

Damn it, Ash and Carter. I did not see this duet coming.

“If this works for her, we’ll make it permanent. In the meantime, you’ll have to find me a replacement for you if that’s really what you want.”

Carter nods. “Understood.” His voice flinches lightly.

The fuck?

“What’s that about?” I ask.

He tilts his head, his eyes scanning my face.

“The sudden change, where does it come from?” I repeat.

Carter opens his mouth and then closes it as if he knew what he was about to say wasn’t morally acceptable. I mean, I know from the amount of shit he told us in the past that Carter has a special way of seeing things. Hence why, Vox and I had been gobsmacked many times at his tales and attempts to court girls. We talked him out of sending feet and hands to a bunch of them. I swear, never a dull moment with Carter.

He’s better now, I mean, I think he is since we sent him to therapy for three fucking years. Thankfully, we had found a shrink to blackmail and not go straight to the cops after what Carter told him, but yeah, it really did some good to him to talk it out. The poor shrink was pissing himself each time he had to start a session with Carter in the basement, but still, he managed to get him out of his head and into the real world, talking again to us and getting out of the club more, having a life, a real one.

“Is this about a woman?” I rub my chin.

He nods, looking down.

“Should I be concerned?” Because I’m not really in the mood to look for pieces of dead bodies in the woods like one of his treasure hunts he once did, but well, whatever he says, I’ll help him.

“She…she got a kid, and I know I suck at human stuff and shit but don’t think I stand a chance if I keep doing what I’m currently doing. Don’t know if I make sense, but yeah…”

Carter likes to stalk; he’s been doing this for years, but it never got serious. Most of our brothers have girlfriends or old ladies but we never saw him bring a girl to the club, never. I’ve made mistakes with Vox and Rose in the past, not acknowledging their relationship sooner and creating a fucking mess because of it, so I want to do better now. Hence why I’m in my office talking about my enforcer’s love life at ten in the morning.

“Yeah, I understand. It’s a good move. Talked to her yet?”

“Not yet.”

Aw, Carter, always observing, taking mental notes of habits, tastes. Makes him ruthless in our world but out of his depth once he’s in the real world, the one where MC clubs and gangs remain in the shadows, where people don’t even realize the darkness living at night in the city they think is so safe.

“How long?” He knows I know him well enough to ask about how long he’s been stalking her. No judgment here, ‘cause I know in my bones, Carter would never lay a finger on a kid nor a woman. Kind of the whole reason he became who he is.

“Two months.”

“Does she know you’ve been watching her?”

“No, I’ve been careful since she has a kid. I don’t want to scare her away.”

“Makes sense. Maybe it’s time you reach out to her, huh?” I suggest.

“I want to, but I don’t know how.” His jaw ticks slightly. That’s new. Must be one hell of a woman to make him all bothered like that.

“You’ll find a way, but whatever you choose, just make sure it doesn’t freak her out. Women don’t find the idea of someone threatening their safety appealing. You can’t go on with this forever, Cart.” I’m hoping to shake some sense into him.

“I know, I know…”

“Just help her out with something one day or give her a compliment. I don’t fucking know, you should ask Vox. He’s better at that than me.” I chuckle roughly cause’ we’re both borderline psychopaths talking about approaching women in a non-threatening way, and the irony is just too loud.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll try.”

“Good, I’ll text you the address of the gallery for Saturday.” I think about my beautiful redhead and how proud I am of what she did this morning.

Carter nods, turning to the door. “Thanks, boss,” he says, his voice cold and empty of emotion as he closes the door.

Like I said, never a dull moment with Carter.

Mia

Silky fabric, rainbows of colors and textures between my fingers.

God, I love shopping.

Not because I like material things, but because it’s like painting to me. Choosing the right shades, finding the best fabrics, adjusting on the different bodies, and finding the best match. It’s artsy yet so close to science sometimes. And it’s safe. There’s nothing good or bad here, nothing I can’t control. I sigh with contentment, a light smile dancing on my lips.

“Not this one, nope. This won’t do, too colorful, too look at me I’m rich, too—” Vanessa says as she looks at the dresses like an accountant at spreadsheets.

“What about this one?” I take the hanger out, displaying a midi dress in a deep burgundy, seductive yet professional enough with a chic cut.

“Ohh, yes, girl, that’s exactly what I was looking for. I’ll try it, c’mon.” Following her into the large changing room of this high-hand store, I glance back at the four tattooed men in leather jackets securing the entryways, hands behind their backs like soldiers, as if someone was about to attack us in the middle of a shopping spree.

Ares and his control freak habits are way over the top.

I sit on the comfortable and lavish red sofa, waiting for Vanessa to come out. I’ve chosen tight jeans with a boho white blouse and a little purse with ruffles. It’s so cute.

I’ve taken the opportunity to look at a few pieces for my clients, and I’ve found a few pieces that will work on a businesswoman I’ve worked with for years. Three times a year I design her a whole new wardrobe. Makes it easier for her to focus on her work, and she never has to spend mental energy on what she should wear and what goes with what. I like knowing that I’m helpful, that I make people’s lives easier by styling their clothes for them. To me, it’s second nature.

“Sooo?” Vanessa says, spinning and making poses in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror with a golden frame.

“Mrs Dash, Mrs Malone, would you like a glass of champagne?” says a young brunette with sleek hair and a lovely beige dress.

“Oh yes, thank you,” Vanessa says, taking one glass from the tray. The saleswoman turns her face to me with a light, professional smile. “Could I have a glass of water, please?” I ask.

“Of course, I'll be right back.” She nods.

See, you just have to ask. It’s no big deal.

“No champagne?” asks Vanessa, sipping her glass.

“No, that’s not really my thing,” I admit.

“Wait, you’re not—” Her eyes widen like she’s hallucinating or something.

“What? No, I’m not pregnant!” I gasp, I almost want to tell her that her brother and I only exchanged our first real kiss a few days ago but I kind of want to keep it for me. I like her, but I’m still not sure if I can trust her.

“Okay, okay, sorry, it’s just, you know, with Ares’s past and all.” Her palms lift in the air apologetically.

“Ares’s past?” I frown.

What is she talking about?

“Yes, the whole Iris mess. That’s why I thought maybe if you were pregnant…” She shrugs, twirling in front of the golden-framed mirror.

“Iris mess?” I repeat, leaning to her in my seat.

“Shit, he didn’t tell you?” she gasps, biting her lips as if she understood that she had spoken too freely.

“No, no. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Damn it, me and my silly mouth, it’s not a big deal anymore, but, um, you guys should probably talk about it. You know, if you ever want to get really pregnant and all that,” she says with a light smile, all superficiality and drama disappearing from her tone.

What?

Who’s Iris?

And why does Vanessa keep associating being pregnant with this woman?

“So, what do you think? Should I take it? We still have to find the right heels to go with it, though.” She changes the topic and looks at her reflection, her blonde hair complimenting the deep burgundy color.

What is Ares hiding from me? I thought I could trust him.

“Earth to Mia?” She lowers her knees and angles her face to force me to see her.

“Sorry, sorry,  I was thinking about what you said.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m the one who’s sorry. By the way, I kind of wanted us to go shopping together to make up for the last time I saw you.” A sad smile appears on her face.

“Why?”

“Well, bringing Carolina and all…”

“Oh, yeah, well, you thought we had a fake marriage, so wait—was that a test?” I narrow my eyes on her. She bites her lips, her cheeks suddenly carrying a deep shade of pink.

“I’m sorry, I'm used to people trying to get close to him with an agenda, so...I just wanted to make sure you weren't one of them. Anyway, at least now I know.” She pushes her hair back to look at what the outfit would look like with an updo.

“Know what?” I cross my arms.

“Well, it’s kind of obvious.” She looks at me from the mirror reflection. “Seriously, Mia, he's obsessed with you, girl.” Then she winks at me like she just said something inconsequential.

“He just…likes me,” I murmur.

“Trust me, I’ve known him my whole life, and I never saw him look at someone with so much…intensity, I guess? Sorry, it feels kind of gross to talk about my brother like that.” She chuckles. “You got him all wrapped around your little finger, trust me.” she grins.

“Here’s your water, Mrs Malone,” the saleswoman says.

“Thank you.” I take it and empty the whole glass straight. Vanessa is still talking about the dress and the exhibition of tomorrow night but my mind has already tuned her out. So many questions are bouncing in my head.

Who is Iris?

And why does the idea of another woman carrying Ares’s child turn my insides out?

Chapter 17

Mia

I haven’t brought it up. Ares came back late last night, and I pretended to be already asleep, not knowing if I really wanted to know the truth behind what Vanessa had told me yesterday.

Iris.

Pregnancy.

No need to be an expert in marriage to know that it doesn’t inspire anything good.

“You okay, Mrs Malone?” asks Ash, opening the door of Vanessa’s gallery for me, Carter right behind him. Don’t know why Shadow’s been replaced. Maybe Ares needed him for a job. It’ll be less fun. Carter hasn't even uttered a word since they came to pick me up after my day of work calls and video-try-on with my clients.

“Yes, thank you,” I say quietly, the noise of the crowd buzzing around us. The gallery is packed. There’s so many people it’s almost hard to make your way and see the art. High ceilings, with golden chandeliers and bright white walls. Waiters walk around carrying glasses of champagne and canapés.

Wouldn’t it be a great opportunity to try something new? Like the doctor said?

“Mia, you made it!” Vanessa’s warm voice burst in front of me, her dress and curled hair making her look to die for.

“Vanessa, you’re gorgeous. The place is packed.” I greet her, amazed at what she accomplished.

“I know, right? It’s so great. Come, I'll introduce you to the artist!” She nods to Carter and Ash. “Guys, I'll borrow her for a sec. Make yourself at home.” She smiles at them widely. You can clearly see that Vanessa is used to her brother’s way because anyone normal would freak out just from the look of those two giants with leather cuts and killing gaze, but she seems playful about it.

“Is Scott here?” I ask.

“No, he had to work.” She shrugs with a sad smile. “Do you know if Ares’s gonna make it ?” she asks.

“He said he’d be here later,” I assure her. She nods, a little spark shining in her green eyes like she’s really excited to show her brother how successful she is. That’s cute. After talking to the artist and looking around at the magnificent pieces of painting, sculptures, and collages, I hear my stomach roar.

Damn it, I should have accepted Larry’s offer to eat before going out. But my stomach was still in knots from thinking about the pregnancy thing, and I really didn’t feel like eating.

A tray appears before me as a nice waitress dressed in a formal black shirt invites me to dig in. There’s one hors-d’oeuvre that looks simple. A piece of cheese over a raisin. Two food groups. There’s protein in the cheese and fiber in the raisin. It’s low-carb and will appease my hunger.

I can do this.

It’s easy.

I just have to take it in my hand, shove it in my mouth, and call it a day.

No big deal.

I focus as hard as I can to stop my arm from trembling, grateful for my green maxi dress with long sleeves, hiding my trembling away.

Easy, just breathe, and don’t think about it too much.

It’s just food.

I open my mouth and take a bite, the flavors and textures surprising me as something creamy fills my mouth. Swallowing the whole thing in an attempt to make the sensation go away, I ask, “Was it something in the cheese?”

“Yes, our chef made a homemade organic gorgonzola and honey creme to fill the inside. Isn’t it exquisite?” She grins politely. I nod mindlessly, already picturing the cream covering my insides and spreading like wildfire.

No.

No.

Don’t do this, especially not here.

I glance around and find Carter behind me. “I need to—sit, not, not here.” Without question, he heads to the back of the gallery, opens a door with the sign “private” on it, and leads me into a back office. My fingers are already tingling, my breathing quickening as I find a chair behind the desk. It’s not fancy. It must be the place the genitor uses from the way mops and cleaning supplies are displayed. I don’t care. I just need to be alone for a minute.

“Do you need me to stay?” he asks with no emotion. I’m grateful for his coldness. I wouldn’t have wanted Ash's kindness to witness this and try to make it all better. Maybe Carter isn’t so bad, actually.

“No-can you close the door, please?” I try to keep my breath at a normal pace.

“I’m right here if you need me,” he states before closing the door.

“Thanks, Carter,” I mutter.

Inhale, exhale. Think, Mia. You don’t have to let it take control of you again.

Without thinking twice about the elephant in the room I’ll need to deal with later, I take my phone out of my purse and find the number.

“Everything’s alright, princess?” Ares’ warm tone answers right away, grounding me.

“Yea-yeah.” I heave.

“What is it? Are Carter and Ash with you? Why aren’t you in the main room of the gallery?” he fires back at me with urgency, the sound of an electric drill in the background.

“Ho-how?” How could he know where I am exactly? I look up for cameras or any device that could track me.

“I got a tracker on your phone. Gotta know where you are at all times,” he explains roughly.

Of course he did.

“It’s, I tried to eat something, but it’s not going well. I’m kind of freaking out right now,” I explain, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

“Shit—” The sound of a gunshot echoes in the call before I hear something fall on the floor with a whimper. “How d’ya feel? From one to ten, where are you at?”

“Fiv-five?” I say, trying to picture him to soothe myself.

“Five? Alright, five is good. We can work with five.” His voice is warm and loving, like honey melting on a sunny day. I pull my knees up and curl like a ball on the chair, letting Ares' voice soothe me and make the panic go away.

“We’re gonna breathe together, alright?” he commands me softly.

“Oka-okay.”

“Inhale, deep. Yeah, perfect, just like that.” I follow his directions. “Exhale, you’re doing great, Mia. C’mon, a couple more times.” He leads me to four more breathings until the tingles in my fingers disappear, and I stop thinking about cream spreading in my body and poisoning me.

“I think, I think it’s gone,” I murmur.

“Really? That’s great, see? You can handle it, princess. You just did,” he praises me, and I’m almost certain he’s smiling.

“Not really, but than-thank you…” I mutter, almost speechless at how well he handles my episodes.

“Anytime, baby. I’m leaving the club right now. I'll be there in fifteen. Do you want to stay on the line and tell me about your day ?”

I close my eyes and bite a smile.

“Yes, that’d be great.”

Ares

“Where’s Mia?” I ask Ash as I enter the gallery, the crowd dividing like the sea at my sight. Nice to look like criminals sometimes. Makes folks give you room to breathe.

“Still in the back office.” I motion his chin to a door in the back.

“Ares! Hey.” My sister finds me, all smiling and breathless.

“Hi, Vaness’. Congrats on the evening. Looks like a lot of folks showed up,” I tell her, my eyes already driven to the door I’ve noticed in the back.

“Yes, I’m, it’s really great,” she says, blushing, and I hear her voice falter a bit.

“Proud of ya, you did good,” I tell her, looking into her green eyes, the same as my dad had.

“Thank you,” she says, glowing from my words. “Ares, I forgot to tell you, yesterday with Mia, I think I made a mistake…”

I arch a brow.

“I thought you had told her about Iris.” The name of that woman lands like a bomb on the ground. The blood drains from my face as I hear the only name in the world I wish to never cross paths ever again.

“What did you say?” It’s not Vanessa’s fault, I should have told Mia about that weeks ago, but we weren't there yet. We weren't real then.

Fuck, Mia must be wondering all kinds of questions.

“Whatever, it’s fine. I'll deal with it. Go back to your guests, Vaness’.” It’s not her fault. I’ll deal with my mess on my own.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, but I’m already halfway to the back of the gallery. Carter is waiting, arms behind his back, in front of what looks like a janitor's office.

“Boss.” He nods.

“Carter.” I nod back.

He slides to the side, and I enter, closing the door right away and keeping my little vulnerable tornado away from prying eyes.

“Hey,” she says quietly, her knees up to her chin on the black chair of this cleaning closet.

“Hey.” I circle the table and kneel in front of her, our gazes on the same level.

Without asking her, I lift her small body, and sit on the chair then put her back on my lap, her face right in the crook of my neck.

Right where it needs to be.

She hums quietly, like a kitten and the sound sends goosebumps rising on my forearms.

“You okay?” I ask gently.

“Yeah.” Her voice is soft and breathy.

“Missed you,” I admit, 'cause I’ve barely seen her since yesterday. My girl was asleep when I came home, and she was still sleeping when I got to the club. Wished I could have fallen asleep with her in my arms, but I didn’t dare to do it, didn’t know if she would have pulled back.

“Ares?”

I hum back.

“Who’s Iris?”

Fuck me for waiting so long to talk about it and make it look like a fucking big deal when it’s not.

“A woman who doesn’t count anymore.”

“Why?” Her voice breaks a little, less confident, less sure of herself.

Mia, mia. There’s nothing to fear, princess.

“It’s a long story, Mia. You’re sure you wanna hear it?” I stroke her beautiful, fiery hair.

“Yes, I need to know. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop since yesterday.” I sigh, remembering a part of my life I’d rather let buried deep inside my fucking mistakes and regrets.

“Five years ago, I met a woman. Everything went fast, and she was pregnant a few months after our first date. It wasn’t love or anything like it, but I thought we had an understanding. She had her life. I had mine. Once I knew she was pregnant, she moved in ‘cause I wanted to show her she had support. I was kind of pumped about becoming a father, even if I didn’t like her much. I…I wanted the kid.”

“But, what happened?”

“I don’t like to talk ‘bout this, but long story short, she was the niece of an enemy gang. She had been sent to break the club from within by giving intel to her uncles.” I explain, shaking my head.

“I was blinded by the pregnancy, didn’t see it coming and,” I sigh, “one day I got home, and she had packed her bags, said she was bored as fuck and wanted to come home. I said she was home, but she laughed at my face and told me the truth. Said she had agreed ‘cause I had enough money for her to spend on clothes and shit.”

I let a second pass, giving me the strength to go on with the most painful part.

“The kid was never mine. She had it with a guy back in her city. Seven months pregnant, seven months spent touching her fucking belly, thinking my kid was in it. And all along, it was a scam, a fucking scam.”

I kiss her hair and run my fingers in her silky strings. “Anyway, it’s different now. I got you now.”

“Ares, God.” She brings her palm to her mouth.

“Don’t say you’re sorry, I don’t want pity.”

“I- I wish I had known this sooner.”

“Don’t like rehashing the past, baby.” I meet my forehead with hers.

“But it was so important, Ares. She hurt you, she,” she bites her lip, “she used you.”

“Let it go, Mia, it’s in the past,” I say, looking at her stunning hazelnut eyes and wondering how I got so lucky.

“She should pay for what she did,” my Mia states between gritted teeth.

My little tornado. So fucking strong and stubborn, and so fucking mine.

“Doesn’t freak you out, princess?” I ask, ignoring how my heart skips a beat.

“What?” She frowns.

“That I want to be a father.” I swallow hard, wondering if this will be a hard no from her.

Silence.

“Mia.”

Shit, that’s it, she doesn’t want kids.

“No, it’s—” Her voice falters.

“Sorry, I’m pushing you. You don’t have to say anything. We’ve never even slept together once, and I’m already talking about kids.” I shake my head. Perhaps I’m just getting ahead of myself, the control freak in me wanting to plan every single second of our lives.

She smiles shyly. “No, it’s, um, I do want kids, just not now. I’d like to heal from the food thing first and from, you know.”

I’m fucking thrilled to know she wants kids too, but what is she saying? Healing from her eating disorder before having a kid, I understand, but the other thing, I don’t get it.

“Tell me, baby,” I say, stroking her cheek.

“I just want to make sure I have a home first.” Her honey-brown eyes become glassy.

“You have a home.” I frown.

“No, I mean, not a house, a home.” Her lower lip trembles.

“I don’t get it, what is it you need?”

“I…I don’t want to cry, but you know, my whole childhood has been a series of slamming doors, punishments and humiliations and… It never felt, I don’t know, safe. I never wanted to come home after school. I don’t want my kids to live the same way,” she explains.

“Don’t you feel at home in our house?” I thought I had made every adjustment for her to feel at ease there. I thought she felt good in it.

“I, I think I do.” Lifting her face to mine, her chocolate eyes getting watery.

“Then what's wrong, Mia?”

“I, I’m sorry, my thoughts are all over the place, and I’m afraid you won’t get me because I’m such a mess—” She shakes her head while a tear falls from her perfect face to the fabric of her green dress.

“Take your time. We’ve got all the time in the world. I’m listening,” I assure her, knowing now that the way to do things with my girl isn’t to rush or push her.

She exhales loudly. “I don’t know how to explain, but you know when people ask you what your dream is when you’re a kid? And children always say firemen, astronauts and such?”

I nod, showing her I’m all ears even if I don’t know where my girl’s going.

“Well, my dream has always been, um, small.”

“Small?”

“I never dreamed of becoming a movie star or earning tons of money. My dream—” she swallows, “my dream has always been small. All I ever wanted was to have a home, one where I’d be myself in, one where I could retrieve when the outside world didn’t seem safe anymore. My dream has always been to find that place. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No, it’s not, Mia. Look at me, it’s not stupid.” I take her little chin between my calloused fingers.

A sad chuckle escapes her perfect lips. “Growing up, I figured my dream would never come true because I was too used to having a cold father and a narcissistic mother. Surely I couldn’t have what it took to create a peaceful home,” she continues, her voice trembling.

"And now…it feels too good to be true, so I do the only thing I know… I run away from it.” She wipes a tear. “I don’t want to run anymore. I’m tired of running.”

“Mia, I’m here now. You got a home. It’s yours. You can be yourself there. It’s yours,” I tell her, my palm backing her nape.

“I don’t know if I can handle it—” Her shoulders flinch.

“You can, you’re strong. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

She shakes her head, looking at me like I matter to her. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are, but if you ever feel like running away again, give me a heads up, and I’ll catch you, princess. I promise.” I grin softly at her, her words cutting deep through my ribs and pointing straight to my black, bruised heart.

Don’t run.

Don’t run away from us, Mia.

“Okay,” she murmurs with a broken voice.

“Okay,” I answer back, taking her in my arms and kissing her fiery hair.

“We should probably get back,” she says, clearing her throat.

“Nah fuck it, we stayed long enough. Time to go home, princess.”

Chapter 18

Mia

“Hey,” a deep, velvety voice says.

“Hey,” I rasp, my sleepy tone escaping out of my lips, the early lights of the sunrise shining through the curtains.

“Go back to sleep, princess. Gotta go to the club,” he says, kissing my forehead while I open my eyes slowly.

“I’ve barely seen you this week.” I pout, wishing we could have spent more time together.

“Missing me, Mrs Malone?” He grins wickedly.

“You wish.” I smirk, sending a pillow flying on his head. He grabs it before it reaches its target and shoves it on the floor.

His gaze softens. “I know, sorry ‘bout that, lots going on, never enough hours in the day.”

“Let me know if I can help you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby. It’s almost done. We’ll have more time together this weekend in Chicago.” He takes his jacket in his hand, the veins of his forearm flashing under his tattoos.

Dear lord.

“I’m off.” He steps toward me and kisses my forehead.

This is so…domestic. We look like a real couple now.

You were never meant for this.

You can’t handle this.

“Bye,” I say between parted lips.

Maybe I’m not meant for this, but perhaps I can try one more time.

-

“So?” Kiara's excited voice lingers on the phone.

“So?”

“Did you guys…?”

“Kiara!” I shout, hoping to get her to stop asking me about this.

“C’mon, I need to know. Nothing’s happening here. Dad keeps me under lock here. I haven’t seen a boy in decades,” she complains, like this is the end of the world.

“You’re going to school every day, Kiara. There’s boys there. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yes, but it’s different. The guys here all have acne and no muscles, like none,” she argues, pleading her case. I laugh at my little sister, seventeen and way too eager to hang out with bad boys.

“We kissed,” I admit on the phone.

“Kissed? How was it? Passionate, short, gross, awkward, hot as—”

“Seriously?” I chuckle, “You gotta stop watching rom-coms. Real life has nothing to do with them.”

“Says the married woman with a hotter-than-hell husband.” She giggles, and I’m pretty sure she’s lying down on her bed, her feet up and bouncing behind her.

“We just kissed a few times, and it was…sweet.” A smile spreads on my face as I remember how good my husband kisses me.

“Sweet? That’s all? We’re talking about the same tall, mountain of muscles, covered in tattoos, looks like a criminal, right?”

I chuckle. “What do you want me to tell you? It was, I don’t know…, he’s gentle with me,” I tell her, enjoying how my sister turns everything into a soap opera.

“Gentle, you mean in a hot way?” Her voice is full of hope for crusty details.

“Kiara,” I chide, swallowing a laugh. “He’s gentle with me, it’s, I like it.”

She sighs. “I’m happy for you, Mia. You deserve it.”

“I don’t know where it will lead, but—” I hesitate.

“How come?”

“Nothing I’d want to bother you with.” I remember her age and how carefree of my marital issues she should stay.

“I’m a big girl now. You can tell me anything, you know?” she says, her voice much calmer and serious.

I wait a second before opening the gates of my heart, “What if he doesn’t love me back? He likes me, he cares for me, but… Can a man like him….love someone like me?” Ares has been showing me how much he wants to care for me, but could we ever become more? Like a real married couple with rings and vows actually meaning something?

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“ I like it here,” I admit, hoping she’ll get my point.

“That’s amazing.” She smiles, and I hear it in her voice.

“What if I ruin everything because I never felt good in our home? What if I can’t handle it without destroying it?” Panic rises in my voice and under my rib cage.

“You won’t,” she deadpans.

“How can you be so sure?”

“‘Cause I know you, duh, and just because Mom and Dad have never been…well, whatever, just because you never really felt good in our home doesn’t mean you won’t create a happy one for yourself,” she states simply, and I wish I could hug her right now.

“So I leave a few months, and you become wiser than Gandalf?” I chuckle,  bringing back lightness to our conversation.

“I’m not! Don’t compare me to a two-thousand-year-old dude. That’s gross !” She bursts into laughter.

God, I miss her.

-

“Sugar, milk?” Erin asks me as we sit in her warm wood and sleek kitchen, plants falling for the shelves and tree-like plants displayed all around the room.

“No thanks, I’m good.” I take the cup of green tea in my hand, appreciating the bowl of nuts and fresh fruits in front of me. Shadow must have told her from the many days spent with me.

“I’m so thrilled you came, I wanted to make sure you were good since the fight.” She smiles gently, sitting on the stool next to me.

“Oh, yeah, that was—”

“Intense, to say the least.” Her brows raise.

“Yeah, definitely.” I chuckle.

“It’s different usually, less, um, bloody. Was he okay afterward?”

“Yes, he said it was barely a few cuts.” I shake my head, remembering the amount of blood he lost from just a few cuts.

“Men.” She laughs. “Shadow told me Carter’s been replacing him a bit. How's that going on?”

“With Carter? Well, he’s definitely less talkative than Ash and Shadow, but I like that he doesn’t always ask questions, feels like I don’t have bodyguards, and sometimes it’s a great feeling. No offense to Shadow. I really like having him around.” But it’s true; Carter is so discreet it’s like he’s not even there, and that’s actually nice when you’re trying to focus on something other than the two Vikings following you around.

“Don’t worry, he likes you too, Mia, but he’s stoked about going back to the club more. That’s where he belongs.” She pushes a strain of black hair behind her ear.

“You guys been together for a long time?” I ask.

“God,” she looks far away, “ten years? We met when I was twenty, and he was already in his thirties. The whole bad boy vibe didn’t really pass the test with my parents. It was quite a journey to get to where we are today.”

“Really, how come?” The warm cup heats my palms. I should have worn a sweater today; it’s chilly, and my little peach dress isn’t keeping me warm enough.

“My father didn’t approve of him, said I was wasting my life away, things got…ugly. I had to pick a side, and I chose him. And I’d choose him a thousand times again if I had to.” I smile at her, admiring her strength.

“Kind of like you guys. I’ve never seen Ares so obsessed over a woman before.” She shoves her elbow lightly into my ribs.

“What? No, we’re, it’s different,” I argue, shaking my head.

“Even arranged marriages can have happy endings. You know that, right?” Her soft gaze locks on mine.

“How romantic.” I chuckle ironically.

“No, seriously, just because you guys had a rough start doesn't mean it can’t work out,” she assures with a smile.

I shrug. “Yeah…maybe.”

“Trust me, Ares has you under his skin. You’re blind if you don’t see it, girl.” She sips her tea.

Under his skin.

Really?

Could this mean….more?

I pull my hair behind my ears nervously. “You said you started crochet?”

Real smooth, Mia.

She winks at me but doesn’t push me more, and I am grateful for it. “Yes! It’s quite bad, actually. Swear you won’t laugh? I tried to do a sea-shell bra.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Who starts crocheting with such a difficult project?

“I know I should have started with socks or a scarf, but that’s gonna look so hot once I’m done.” Her hand rests on her cheek like she’s picturing it already done.

“Show me,” I tell her enthusiastically.

“Here,” she says, jumping off from the stool and to a basket near her sofa. Then she comes back with her so-called bra, and I can’t contain my giggles.

“Erin.” I burst into laughter, the bra the size of ping-pong balls. “What are you planning on doing with these ?” I touch the wool.

“Shut up.” She laughs, holding her stomach. “It’s, it’s fashion, you don’t get it.” She throws the bra on me.

“Of course I don’t. I know nothing about fashion.” I laugh so much that my ribs hurt. “Well, if you guys have a cat, you could still use it to warm his ears in the winter?”

She shakes her head, still laughing. “Okay, now you know what my level is. The real question is, can we fix it ?”

“Sure, where are your needles?”

“Here.” She gives me the tools.

“Okay, so we’re gonna start with a simple knot.” I show her.

“Hey, thank you, by the way.” She stops, looking at me with warmth.

“It’s okay, I like doing this,” I assure her with a smile.

“Well, thank you anyway,” she says before sitting back next to me.

We exchange a smile, and I stay here another hour, laughing and teaching her how to crochet.

-

It’s been a week since the gallery exhibition, and we landed this morning in Chicago to visit my family and settle Kiara’s situation. Ares was busy at the club, mentioning another gang they’d been having a feud with. I’ve been busy with work too, and we’ve barely talked since he came back to bed after I fell asleep every day. I prefer when he’s there so we can talk and argue and hang out in the kitchen. But I haven’t pushed him. The look on his tired face each morning was speaking for itself. He looked like a man who needed more hours in the day to accomplish what needed to be done.

I’m grateful he still wanted to go to Chicago and settle Kiara’s issue, even with the mountain of work he had to deal with.

I thought a lot about what he could do to my father to twist his hand into letting his treats go. But in our world, there was only two options: you’d either had something to offer or something to damage.

“How was the session with Dr Ofenhaus this morning?” Ares asks as we arrive in the black Mercedes sent to pick us up from the airport

“Not so bad.” I shrug.

“Really ? Wanna talk ‘bout it, princess?” His gorgeous emerald eyes study mine. He’s wearing a black suit with a black dress shirt, and the whole look is making me want to run my hands on the fabric and squeeze his thick muscles underneath. A wicked grin lifts the corner of his lips. Damn it, he knows what I’m thinking about.

Focus, Mia.

“I, um, he said I’d made progress when I tried to eat at the gallery.” His gaze softens.

“That’s good,” he comforts me.

Why does it feel so good to hear him praise me?

“He said, since you’re the one helping me to stop my panic attacks, that…”

Just say it. He won’t let you down, trust him.

“C’mon, Mia, tell me.” His eyes lock with mine, patiently waiting for me to talk.

“That next time we could try new foods together, that it could help me to overcome the fear of having another panic attack,” I explain.

“Okay, we’ll do that then.” He takes my chin in his rough fingers. I smile back shyly, wondering why this man would even want to put up with a mess like me.

“About Kiara, I know you’ve been busy with the club and all that, but I need to know how you’re going to handle it. I can’t fix this myself… My father knows I can’t do anything about it. Whatever you plan on doing, it needs to be discreet. I never want Kiara to know, she’s…she’s too good for this world, and she would hate herself for not having agreed to the match before we got married. Just promise you won’t make anything that could jeopardize that.”

“I won’t, you got my word.” His thumb brushes my chin.

“What will you do?”

He sighs and lets his hand fall down, his gaze drifting from my lips to my gaze.

“Before I got you, I had a talk with him in our basement at the club.” He takes my hand in his and laces our fingers gently, reminding me of my father’s knee, contrasting with his words. “I think your father just needs a reminder not to take his safety for granted.”  He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the translucent skin of my inner wrist.

“You won’t kill him,” I say blankly.

“Do you want me to kill him? ” He lifts his brow.

The silence weighs heavily in the car, the roar of the road the only sound echoing around us. If it was up to me…but it’s not, and even if he’s a shitty father, Kiara doesn’t deserve to go through this. I shake my head silently.

“I’ll just make a point, it’ll be alright. Consider it done.” And with his commanding tone, he grabs my nape and leans in, towering over me, his black suit making him look like sin incarnated, his tattoos escaping from his neck and licking his jaw, his leafy gaze suddenly heavy with something we’ve been fighting for months now.

“I’ll take care of it, Mia. I’ll protect you, always.” His finger caresses my lower lips. “You and the people you care about.”

“Ares—” I whisper.

“I’m not running away, Mia. I’m not backing down. I’m not leaving. We’re gonna deal with your father as a team, and then, we’ll go back home.” I nod twice, pushing away the tears and the overwhelming amount of butterflies flying in my stomach.

Is this what…love feels like?

Lacing our fingers, he puts our hands on his thigh, circling my skin with his thumb.

Could this last forever?

Ares

Mia is acting differently.

She didn’t wear her usual colorful clothes, and although she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, she seems like a dim version of herself. No jewelry, except her wedding rings, no nail polish stuff, no outrageous orange boa to finish the look as she always says, no sequin purse, and most of all, no high heels.

Between seeing my woman in high heels and barefoot at home, I gotta say I've never seen her in other types of shoes. My little Mia is wearing a simple black dress, her fiery hair suffocating in a tight as fuck bun, and she has almost no makeup on her face. Not that it bothers me; she could be wearing a potato sack, and she would still light my skin on fire.

I know her sister’s situation has been on her mind a lot, which would be the fucking same for me if anything was threatening Vanessa’s safety. I want to show her I can fix this for her, that we’re a team, and that I’ll fight and protect her until my last breath.

Careful. This is a slippery slope.

Mia’s been walking on a fine line lately, looking at me like a starved woman and glancing outside the window each time I pushed her too much. Hence why I haven’t tried anything more in the physical sense, despite burning for her. The proximity of her sinful curves in our bed almost makes me mad each time I have to keep my hands to myself, lying next to a goddess wearing the tiniest fucking pieces of fabric.

I thought I’d have to push her away and live my life on my own, but it turns out I want her more than breathing itself. My little tornado is harder to catch than any prey I had to chase. She’s smart, stubborn, and a walking contradiction. I know that I won’t win her heart. I’ll earn it. And it starts today by ensuring her sister's safety.

“Hi, welcome, welcome! The whole family is together. What a delight!” her mother greets us at the door of a large white colonial house with white moldings and lion statues in the entryway. Fancy, but it screams new money. She attempts to hug me, but I’m not into touching strangers, so I step back, giving her a stare that typically reduces folks into ashes and nods to her.

“Hi, Mom.” Mia steps in front of me and hugs her mom for a second, awkwardly putting her hands on her as if it were her first time doing this.

“Ares,” her father's voice echoes behind her mother, who's wearing a tight ponytail and a long black dress, displaying her thinness.

Thin.

Way too fucking thin to be healthy. Looks like a malnourished child. No fucking way my girl ends up like this one day.

“O’brian,” I say, keeping my cool in front of his stern face.

We’re not family.

Mia’s my family.

Him?

I could strangle him with my bare hands and not think twice about it.

He advances toward us, the entryway filled with paintings, moldings, and golden stuff to display wealth, only here it looks cheap. Tacky. As if they had tried too hard. I can’t help but smirk when I notice his lump from the electric drill I shove into his knees months ago when I discovered he was talking to Nero behind my back.

He clenches his jaw, hard, and lifts his hand toward me. We shake hands, both of us breaking each other's bones in a quick shake, representing all that we carry on our shoulders.

Cities, territories, hundreds of men.

All of that in one single shake.

I stay alert, which is what any predator should do in front of another one. Things have a way of getting down fucking fast when you don’t control yourself. Especially in our world.

“Mia! Gosh, I missed you so much!” shouts her little sister, barging from the stairs to the entryway, wearing a simple gray dress with her hair just as wild as my woman’s.

Red, curly, silky, wild, unwilling to obey.

Something in my gut tells me that if these are the genes of the O’brian sisters, then I hope one day we’ll get our own little girl with fiery hair and stubbornness running around in our home.

“I missed you so much, Kia,” Mia says, hugging her sister with strength and warmth, both of them closing their eyes at the touch. Kiara’s young, and she reminds me so much of Mia. In the way she speaks, in the way she moves. But there’s something different in her eyes, a goodness few people only carry on themselves past adulthood.

Innocence.

There.

Forgot about it ‘cause I’m not used to seeing it in my daily life.

My Mia, just like my men, lost this gleam a long time ago. That’s the mark of those who’s seen the real world and stopped dreaming about fucking happy endings and goodness in people. That’s the mark of what makes those of us stronger, harder to break.

She’ll learn. One day. But not today.

There’s no fucking way I’m letting Mia down by failing to protect her sister. She’d never forgive me.

“You must be starving. Let’s all go to the dining room. Come on, chop chop, Mia.” her mother claps her hand twice before looking from head to toe at my woman and wincing at the sight.

The fuck?

Mia glances at me with an apologetic smile. I nod back.

It’s okay, everything’s okay.

I got ya.

I don’t follow her right away. “A word,” I call on her father. It’s not a question. He narrows his eyes at me, and if I wasn't such a fucking paranoid bastard, I would bet he’s thinking about the nearest weapon to kill me if things go south. That’s funny ‘cause I’d already be covered in his blood by the time he even tries to end me. That guy’s too fat to be a fighter. He just sends men to do the dirty work. He doesn’t know about digging graves in the woods, chopping body parts, or conducting interrogations that end up in bloodbaths.

The man wears white shirts, for fuck’s sake. That says it all.

Blood’s too fucking hard to erase from white shirts, hence why I only have black ones. Gotta be practical.

“Sure, in my office.” He motions his hand to the corridor behind the stairs. Once we reach the room, he glances over his shoulder.

“Cigars?” he offers.

I nod as I watch him circle his wide wooden desk, open a drawer with a key, and take a wooden box out. Lifting it toward me, I take one and lit it up with my lighter. I’m not a smoker, but once in a while, I like to indulge in it.

“So,” he clears his throat and sits in his large leather chair, leaning back without a care in the world, “what brings you here?”

“Family?” I suggest, with a tone colder than ice.

Did he forget he had another daughter?

He points to the chair in front of him, but I’m not the kind to obey that kind of man, so I stand, towering over him, and liking the way his body looks way smaller as I look down on him. His jaw ticks, the realization hitting him that he shouldn't have sat.

Don’t you worry, O’brian. Mind games are my specialty, and I never play fair with them.

“Oh yes, family, right. Well, we are family now. How silly of me to forget it.” Shaking his head, his mouth closes in a straight line. “Well, it’s really nice of you to—”

“Are you still planning on marrying Kiara to the Italian?” I say blankly, standing in front of him, cigar in hand, the desk as our only barrier.

O’brian arches a brow, settling into his oversized leather chair like a king on his throne. But real power doesn’t need thrones—doesn’t need fancy suits or grand gestures.

Power stands tall, even in the dirt.

“What I’m planning to do or not, Ares, isn’t your business.” He smirks, eyes narrowing. He leans back like he’s got the upper hand, but I see right through him. Small men hide behind their wealth, their power, their deals. He thinks he’s playing a game with me. But he doesn’t know that I don’t play.

I may be in his city, but he’s on my territory—where power isn't defined by bullets or brute force. Here, the battlefield is in the mind, where I win every time. It's not about pulling a trigger, it's about pulling strings, digging into insecurities, exposing fears. I don’t need to shout or swing to win. He’s already losing, just doesn’t know it yet. The moment he thinks he’s got the upper hand, I’m already ten steps ahead, ready to tear him down from the inside out.

I lean in, calm, controlled, but with an edge sharp as a knife.

“Let me make this clear,” I start, taking a drag of the cigar, letting the silence weigh heavy between us, taking my time ‘cause that’s what freaks people out most of the time.

“You marry Kiara off to that old bastard, and there’ll be consequences. Not for her, not for me...but for you.” I exhale the smoke, watching him squirm under my gaze, his smirk faltering. He’s been in my basement. He knows how things work. Well, I bet his knee remembers, it did take me quite a significant amount of time to pierce the bones with the electric drill last time.

“You can’t threaten me, Ares. We’re family now,” he rasps with bitterness.

“Family?” I tap the cigar to let the ashes fall on his desk, not giving a fuck about his precious table. “Nah, Mia’s my family.” I nod, not even bothered to admit it ‘cause that’s the fucking truth. “And you know what I discovered since you gave me your little girl?” I smirk while his smile fades.

“There’s no limit to what I can do to protect her and the folks she cares about. None.” Crushing the cigar on the wood, leaving a small crevice on the sleek surface, the white smoke disappearing between us. “You wanna keep breathing, walking in the street without looking over your shoulder? Then you end this.” I lean forward, my voice low, deliberate. “I don’t make threats. I make promises.”

He’s quiet now, the smirk long gone, replaced by a flicker of fear. And he nods like a fucking weak man, not even trying to fight back.

Good.

Standing, I button my black jacket, already thinking about my little tornado.

“You should get your knee checked out,” I call over my shoulder, “you never know when the pain can strike again.”

I leave him there, turning to the door and heading to find my girl.

-

I fucking hate small talk.

I’ve learned to do it when we had to make new connections with different cartels and organizations around the country, but most people know that I’m a straight-to-the-point kind of man. I don’t have time for bullshits or nice-weather-today shit because I’m dealing with hundreds of men who need leadership every day and who need me to make decisions fast. It’s all about efficiency, productivity.

Protecting my men, expanding the club.

My only priority.

Business over everything else.

Everything…?

Which is why I’m fucking seething as I’m having dinner with my in-laws, and I have to watch her very dysfunctional neglectful parents behave like they give a shit about my woman. All she had to do was ask, and I would unalive them in the blink of an eye.

Yeah, I’m turning all romantic, don’t I fucking know it.

At least her sister’s nice, and watching my Mia enjoy her company is the only relief I get from this. I mean this and the sight of my breathtaking wife, who keeps blushing each time I stare at her like she can feel my gaze feasting on her creamy skin.

And those fucking lips.

I’ve been craving them so much now that it’s become almost painful to look at her without tasting her.

“You look a bit pale, darling. Are you alright?” Amalia O’brian asks her husband, the guy’s face fucking livid after our talk.

She knows I’ve pierced his knee, that he tried to betray us, and that Mia and I only got married to pay her husband's debt to the club. And still, her mother acts like I’m a normal guy, not an ounce of guilt in her. All I see is a woman who keeps touching her hair, and checking in the reflection of her knife that she’s looking good.

Mia had to grow up with this as a mother.

A self-obsessed woman who’d rather talk about herself than take five minutes of her day to call her daughter. Now that I think about it, I don’t even recall hearing Mia on the phone with her in months. All I saw was a watery-eyed Mia, sitting crossed leg on our bed, watching her phone ring as her mother never picked up once.

“Amalia, why don’t you ask Mia how she’s doing in Knoxville?” It’s not subtle, but fuck subtlety. I’m Ares Malone, I’m known for many things, but tact isn’t one of them. Her eyes widen and she swallows hard, glancing at me nervously.

“Of course, I was going to ask. Honey, how’s life in Knoxville? Did you make any friends in this very, um, quirky town?” The tone of her voice is strained, unnatural, and my gut screams that some folks should never have children.

Our kids will be treasured, that’s for sure.

The sight of Mia’s round belly flashes before my eyes, our own flesh pulsing inside her womb, making my ribcage tighten.

“Yes, I’ve met Ares’s sister, Vanessa, and also Erin. She’s the wife of a man from the club,” Mia says with a small smile. “I still haven’t met Rose properly. She’s the wife of Ares’s VP, but I heard she likes reading like me, so I think we’ll be friends too.”

I make a mental note to teach Mia a few signs before she meets Rose. Made the whole club learn basic sentences to make his girl more comfortable. I’m a jerk, but I can redeem myself if I get the chance too. And Vox is like a brother to me, so it’s only fair I make her feel welcome especially after what happened last year. No shame in learning from past mistakes. Only fools pretend to know it all.

“Well, that’s so nice,” her mother says, digging into her salad.

Salad for now with oil on the side, wonder if her mother eats like that too.

At least it’s safe for my girl.

For now.

I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she’s not panicking when the main course arrives. I asked Larry to pack lots of snacks for her this weekend. Nuts and protein things with dubious colors, but he said she liked them. Maria has put them in her suitcase, but I doubt she’s noticed it yet.

“You could have known about it before if you had bothered to call, you know?” Mia says, her voice unusually cold, her chin up and proud like a fucking queen.

“I’m so busy, honey. You know with the house and the charities, so much to do and so little time,” her mother yaps back.

What kind of mother is this?

“Mia, give me the salt,” her father orders in a tone I don’t fucking like.

“I also have a huge dinner to organize, you know, with Henry’s wife from the country club, and it’s taking so much ti—”

“Mia, are you deaf girl?” her father shouts across the room.

I stand up immediately and stride to him, then grab his throat in my palm, his pulse quickening as I squeeze the life out of him.

That’s what she had to put up with her whole life?

She’s a fuckin’ saint. I would have shot him a long time ago if he was my father.

“Watch your mouth when you talk to my wife,” I threaten between gritted teeth.

The room falls silent, tension rippling in the air. Mia's father glares at me, but I don’t flinch. I step closer, his life in my right hand, my voice low but firm. Mia’s mother looks away, pretending she didn’t hear anything.

“Mia will never lift a finger in our home, and she sure as hell won’t ever lift one in yours.” He shifts in his seat, but his gaze falters, the weight of my words pinning him in place. I glance at my girl, her hand subtly tightening around her fork, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t say a word. She doesn't need to.

“You’re lucky she has enough kindness in her to sit at your table. You’ll treat her with the respect she deserves and never talk to her like that ever again. She’s not your little girl anymore; her name is Mia Malone, and where we come from, men don’t even dare to look in her eyes. I suggest you do the same.”

I squeeze his throat even tighter, the bastard turning red in my palm.

“Nod if you understand,” I tell her father before he nods nervously.

I loosen my grip and circle the table back to my seat, my gaze locked on Mia’s. A light blush dances on her cheeks, and a spark shines in her eyes. I sit, looking at her, and hoping she’ll see what I’m trying so hard to show her since her first panic attack.

That I got her.

That I’m willing to risk everything for her.

That she’s mine, and mine only to worship and protect.

“So Kiara, Mia told me you’re into tennis. What division are you playing in?” I ask her casually, like nothing happened. Her little sister's face lights up, and she elbows Mia not so discreetly in the ribs with a what-did-I-tell-you face.

Good.

Like I said, I hate messes, and this needed straightening out.

Chapter 19

Mia

Rule number one: do not drool over your husband at a family dinner, or you’ll make a fool of yourself and give your little sister enough material to get sassed for years.

It was hard enough to watch him over the table glancing at me and my plate, searching for trigger clues, but when he defended me in front of my parents.

I truly think feminism left my body at that instant. I’m a strong woman, I have my own business, I train hard to look fit, I have hobbies and opinions of my own. I was never into the whole protective, dangerous man fighting for his woman kind of thing.

But…

Um…

Well, it all kind of got thrown out the window since I stepped foot in Ares’s house, and since then, a fire has been spreading in my body and burning my senses each time I spend in his company.

Not only does he look way too good, in a this-should-be-illegal to look this good kind of way. But he cares for me, and that…damn it, that adds gasoline to the fire already burning inside me.

The way he defended me? It was hard to stay composed when a man like him has your back like that. I catch myself staring across the table, watching him. He glances at me and smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and I swear, it’s like he’s turning up the heat on purpose.

Kiara keeps looking at me with a knowing smile.

“Stop this immediately.” I whisper to her.

“You stop this!” She giggles.

She keeps on talking about her tennis competition. Ares is listening to her with attention which makes my heart only pound harder at the sight of him trying to connect with my sister.

“My coach helps me break old patterns. He made me train with other students and—” Kiara says, but suddenly, all I can think of is him.

Him and the promise of us.

Do I have the guts to accept happiness? What would I need to finally be secure in our relationship? Lust? No, lust can be given and thrown away in an instant, and I’d rather hold back than give myself to someone who won’t find the value of it.

“Here, Mrs Malone,” says one of the waiters. We have a lot of staff here. Too much actually, but I guess it’s more of an image thing than anything else. Butlers, bodyguards, chauffeurs, gardeners, maids… A little circus running around with no purpose other than to make my parents drown in their money and illusion of endless wealth. I know for a fact that Ares is twice as rich as my parents, and still, he lives way more simply. I much prefer having Maria and Larry at home. It’s simpler and much quieter.

Did you say home?

I look at the plate the man just laid in front of me.

Nope. No way.

Looking up at my family, I notice they all have been served, like me, a large piece of meat with potatoes, white sauce, and fried vegetables.

Why did she do that?

She knows I can’t eat that.

I hate that my mother still does not care about my eating disorder. It’s not like she has never heard me cry myself out each night after dinner when they forced me to finish my plate or sometimes just make me sleep without eating, depending on their moods.

She never said it, but given her thinness, which jumped to my eyes since I haven’t seen her in a while, she does have an eating disorder too. Only her orthorexia manifests in a completely different way. She thinks in matters of eliminating calories with fitness rather than in a poison kind of way. She can eat a plate like this one as long as it’s not overly processed. Then, she’ll just spend two hours on the treadmill and call it a day.

But I can’t.

“Bon appétit everybody!” she says, clapping in her hand, locking her eyes on me with a devious smirk.

Fuck you, Mom.

“Excuse me,” I ask the waiter behind me, “could you ask Lucius to make me green steamed vegetables with tofu on the side, please? Say it’s Mia. He’ll know what to do,” I command as nicely and calmly as I can, gathering the strength the presence of my husband gives me to stand up for myself. He nods and disappears to the kitchen. Lucius has been with us for years; he’s always been understanding of my habits, but orders were orders, and my parents always had the final word. When it was just me in the house, I could come down to the kitchen, sit on the counter top and he would cook for me in a way I liked, never bothering me with judgment. Not everything was bad here. He reminds me of Larry a lot, actually.

My dad opens his mouth to speak, but Ares’s words cut the silence like a sharp knife. “Don’t even try.”

I smile at my husband, his chest high as he looks at me with a fire burning in his deep green gaze. The dining room is much smaller than in my memory, the painting of abstract shapes and golden sculptures looking surprisingly dull now.

“How long are you guys staying?” asks Kiara, cutting her steak.

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning, but you’re welcome in our house anytime,” Ares says to her, “I’m building a tennis court that should be done soon. You should be the first to try it.”

I had no idea he was building a tennis court.

Did he just have the idea now that he knows she’s into tennis?

“OMG, yes! Mom, can I go soon? Like after the winter break, please, please?” she pleads, joining her hands.

“Kiara, we have guests; don’t get all whiny,” our mother spits back.

“How about you come during the winter break?” I tell her, taking the lead, because I finally realize that standing up for myself is the only way to handle my parents.

“Really? I don’t want to bother you guys,” Kia says, twisting her lips.

“You won’t. I’d love having you there,” I assure her and hug her with one arm.

“I can’t wait.” She grins, beaming before digging once more in her plate. Looking up, I find my husband staring at me with the corner of his lips raised.

Ares Malone, could I fall even harder for you?

Ares

“Thank you for…defending me at dinner.” she says as we enter her childhood bedroom that doesn’t look like one at all. White and gold tones fill the room with modern and sleek furniture. It’s high hand but it looks more like a hotel room than what I had pictured her room to be like.

“She had it redone when I left.” She shrugs a shoulder. “It was all pink and orange when it was mine.”

Why would her mom want to erase her like that?

“Our kids will always have their rooms to come back to, even when they’re adults and all. It’s too important to throw away.” The words escape my lips as I start to undress to get to bed.

She glances at me, fidgeting with the zip in the back of her dress, closing her jaw after gawking at me. “Wait, did you say our kids?”

“Yeah,” I deadpan while my heart pounds in my chest.

“What makes you think I’ll have your kids? That’s a little presumptuous.” She rests a hand on her hips with her pouty lips begging to be kissed.

“You’d look good with a round belly, that’s all.” I shrug off.

“What is it with you and kids? You don’t seem like the giddy daddy type.” She shakes her head with a frown. I remove my pants and step close to her, only wearing my black underwear, her chocolate pools running on my body like magnets that can’t stop watching me.

“Can’t think of anything better in life than making kids and watching them grow. I got enough darkness in my world, I’d like to bring something good to this world.”

“Oh, so you think a little Ares running around and ordering people is going to fix this world?” She tries to look pissed, but I know she’s picturing it too.

My old man drilled the idea of legacy into me from the time I could walk. Said it was the only thing that really matters in this life. For him it was all about carrying his name, making sure his line would go on, that the Malones would never be forgotten, not after decades of building his empire.

But with Mia by my side, legacy takes a different turn. It shapes into ideas of fatherhood, kids laughing in the kitchen and playing outside. It becomes more, way more than I ever thought I could achieve.

“Could be a little Mia, too, you know?” I smirk, waiting to see how far I can push her.

She shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”

“It was my father’s obsession,” I admit quietly. “Carrying the bloodline, keeping our territories strong.”

“And…and now?” Her voice falters.

“Now it’s different.”

“Different how?” she murmurs.

I hiss in a breath.

“Kiara’s safe. I talked to your father before dinner.”

Tears shine in the white of her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s done. You’ll never have to worry about it anymore.”

“I…I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I can think of a few ideas.” I smirk at her.

She chuckles, pink flushing her cheeks, then turns her back on me. “Can you unzip me, please?”

I take the zipper in my large palm and undo her dress, the fabric falling on the floor and revealing a silky pink set.

That’s my Mia right here.

She was just hidden behind that freaking black dress.

I should burn that thing. Mia wearing no colors or eccentric clothing isn’t how I like her. Not because of the stuff but because she was hiding herself, belittling who she was to please her parents. And that won’t do. I run the back of my finger from her nape to the low of her back, watching goosebumps bloom on her skin after my touch. She inhales, trembling. “We should get to bed.”

“Yeah, we should.”

She grabs a large T-shirt she took from my closet at home and shoves it on her, then she removes her bra underneath it and sighs from relief after the pink fabric hits the floor. I tap the place next to me and put the cover on her once she’s next to me.

She turns off the lights of her nightstand and hums as she sinks in the mattress, pulling the covers up and snuggling next to me. The bed is much bigger than the one we have, but still, she snuck herself close to me.

What I would give to take her in my arms right now.

Why can’t I just do it?

“You did great back there,” I tell her, my voice low, sounding like gravel as I remember how proud I felt when she stood up to her mother.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “It’s…having you here helped,” she whispers. I smile but she can’t see it in the darkness. I like this, us, talking in our bed, like a real couple. No woman has ever denied my primal need and yet Mia has me wrapped up around her fingers and smiling at the single fact of knowing she’s near me, safe and mine. The idea of this disappearing one day hits me in the guts.

“What will it take for you to let go?” I ask out of nowhere.

“What?”

“What would it take for you to let me in, fully,” I repeat, my palm drifting to her belly, resting on the warmth of her stomach, her shirt the only barrier between our flesh.

“I…I’m not sure if… it’s stupid,” she says quietly.

“It’s not Mia. I just need to know what you want from me to give us a chance and not run when things get hard,” I tell her, almost pleading, but I don’t care, I need to know. My ego will have to wait. Her breathing quickens, my hands rubbing circles on her belly.

“I think…I think I need you to say it.”

“Say what?” I stop my hand.

“You know what…” Her little voice falters. I’m glad she can’t see my face in the dark ‘cause I’m speechless.

The four-letter words.

That’s what she wants from me.

But I don’t know if I can.

“I…I’ve never said those words to anyone. I’m not even sure I’m capable of it.” My palm slides to the side of her waist, pulling her to face me on her side.

“It’s alright, it was stupid, you see,” she says with a cold chuckle.

If she asks me this, does it mean she feels this way about me too?

Time stops and I can hear my heart pump in my ears just like before a fight.

Did she just imply she loves me?

“It’s not. It’s important, I—” I try to say but the words get stuck in me and I fucking hate myself for it.

“Don’t worry, Ares. It was silly of me to ask.” She closes herself and turns her back on me. I fall on my back, resting my elbow behind my neck, staring at the ceiling. We stay like this, silent, until she falls asleep. The low echo of her breathing soothing my body.

I could tell her the truth. I could tell her that she’s already under my skin in ways I never expected. But the words...they’re stuck. Shoved away inside me after thirty-two years of being kept away from the outside world.

Business over women.

That used to be my number one rule.

But I guess the rules have changed.

Chapter 20

Mia

I smile at the bracelet Kiara gave me the morning we left Chicago last week. It’s been a few days since, and the energy between Ares and I have shifted. I can’t say if it was him defending me or opening up to me about fatherhood, but…I’m falling hard. I’ve never been obsessed with the idea of having children, I just always knew I’d become a mother one day, but with him, the idea of creating this life made of his DNA and mine is like looking at a treasure you’ll never get to touch.

I’m falling in love with my husband and I’m petrified at the idea that he’s not.

He does like me. He’s joking about having kids with me, but love?

I told him that I needed to be reassured to stay…

But he didn’t reply, didn’t say the magical word that would have changed everything. It’s silly, I’m well aware, and action is worth more than a hundred words… and yet sometimes words do matter. So much. Ares is a man of action. He’s all force, strength, and not afraid to get his hand dirty and swap his suit for a blooded shirt.

So why couldn’t he say the words I needed him so badly to say?

Will it be our marriage?

Friendship? Companionship?

It could be worse but…

I want him, I want us, I want…more.

Want can’t force people to love us. That’s the one thing money can’t buy. The only thing on this earth that is worth nothing unless it comes naturally from the other person.

“Mrs Malone, your friend just arrived,”  says Maria, her voice warm and familiar.

Oh, Rose, yes of course.

I put down my crochet and walk to the door to greet her. It’s Saturday, no work for me today, but Ares went to the club to join Vox and the others. They're pulling an all nighter and launching a huge operation tonight. Ares wouldn’t tell me the details but Rose is supposed to stay here tonight and, well, at the risk of sounding scared, ten other men from the club arrived an hour ago to “secure the perimeter.” I’ve been raised in this atmosphere. I know the risks, the stakes, but it’s different this time. Knowing that Ares will be out there. That he could get hurt.

Don’t think about it.

I’d offer Erin to come stay the night too, and throw a pyjama party old school style, but she went to her mom an hour away from Knoxville.

Ares taught me a few signs before leaving this morning, I hope it’ll be enough to make her feel welcome.

“Hi, Rose, welcome. I’m Mia,” I say with a smile, hugging the shy girl, nervously entering our home as if she was bothering me.

Wow.

That girl is a model, like seriously? I’ve seen what angels look like in painting but damn. Her endless blonde curls with her huge blue eyes and bold lips; she’s so pretty. I chose to keep it casual since we’re staying home and wore my turquoise velvet loungewear set with a butterfly made of glitter on the back. She’s dressed simply but it only enhances her beauty: deep blue flare jeans with a tight black top, making her hourglass body shape shine. That Vox of hers is a lucky guy. She nods with a smile and enters, removing her shoes carefully.

“It’s okay, you can come inside with it.”

She shakes her head then signs something quickly and I feel awful for not knowing what she meant.

“Wait, I got you, girl,” I tell her, rushing to the living room and taking out the notebook and my favorite pen with a pink feather at the end of it. Thought we could use it to facilitate the conversation.

“Thank you,” she signs, sliding down one hand with her palm up  from her chin to me, and I’m grateful for Ares teaching the bare minimum in our bed this morning before leaving for the club.

-

Earlier that day,

“Focus Mia, I don’t have much time.” We’re sitting on our bed, and he’s only wearing his black sweatpants that I’ve grown to really, really like. Like a bit too much maybe.

“It’s just, look at you with your huge hands, making tiny signs.” I chuckle at my Hulk of a husband trying so hard for something I never thought I would see him do.

“That’s it, I'm going,” he grunts, pinching the bridges of his nose. I grab his forearm, his rough skin sending small electrical shocks to every inch of my body.

“Wait, wait! Okay, I’ll focus.” I sit on my heels over the cover, closer to him, his gaze glancing a second at my chest, making me forget that I only wore a tiny purple feather nightgown with barely enough fabric to hide my skin.

“That’s Thank you and that’s How are you?” He shows me the signs that I mimic to make sure I remember correctly. He then proceeds to teach me a few more signs and sends me one video with them so I can repeat before Rose’s arrival.

“That’s it, princess, you got it,” he praises me after I repeat all of them once. “You’ll stay here today until tomorrow. No outings, no latte stuff. I need Ash, Carter and Shadow for our operation tonight, so if you see a dozen men show up at the gate in an hour, don’t freak out, they’re from the club. Here to protect you, Rose and the staff.” He flexes his hand.

“Why do we need so much protection? Isn’t it a normal operation?” I cross my arms.

He shakes his head firmly, biting his lower lip. “We’re catching a big fish tonight, princess, and I’ll only rest when I come back home to you.” He gently grabs the side of my throat with his hand, and his lips kiss mine for a second in a rough and hard way.. His kiss leaves me panting. Until today he’s always been the one initiating them, but I find myself wanting to make the first move more and more. If only he could see what he does to me.

I don’t even point out that I’m not his princess and that he’s not my knight in shining armor coming back to me.

But um…I guess he kinda is.

I nod. “I’ll stay here with Rose. I won’t…I won’t run. Not tonight though.”

A sad smile paints his face. “When I come back, if I come back—” I furrow my brows, “there’s a couple of things I will tell you. Just wait for me here, can you do that, Mia?”

A couple things to say to me?

Could he really die tonight?

What is happening?

“I feel like you’re saying goodbye, what’s going on?”

His hand laces with mine. “Just promise me you won’t run.”

“I…I promise.”

And with these last words, he gets up and leaves me with my heart pounding in my chest, the light of the sunrise not even here to warm my heart.

-

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I asked Larry to make lots of things,” I tell her as we both get on the stools of the kitchen counter. It’s a bit late, we’ve been watching a series this afternoon and it was so good we kept going until our stomachs roared.

Rose is super sweet, she likes to read like me and she’s really into art. She’s finishing a degree in Art from Seattle University and I could tell from the spark shining in her eyes when she gave me the notebook that she’s really passionate about it.

“Don’t judge me but I like rich foods like pastas, pizzas, cheese and chocolate cakes. I never ate those things back in the day and now, it’s just so good. Vox makes them for me all the time,” she writes with a light smile and I keep myself from asking her about her past, which Ares said wasn’t the most dreamy childhood a person could have.

Pizza? This girl eats pizza and still looks like that?

Maybe carbs aren’t that bad… My mother always told me they would made me end up fat and ugly and that no one likes that, her words not mine, which created a fear in me about them. But from looking at Rose, it just seems like something she enjoys without any fear. Dr Ofenhaus did tell me that I was making progress yesterday during our session. And he encouraged me to try new things with people I trust to not spiral alone.

“It’s gonna sound weird, but could I try some with you one day, like together?”

She grins, the blue of her eyes looking lighter, and nods. “Of course, I could make you my favorite pesto sauce next time. That’s how I’m sure of keeping my husband faithful to me forever,” she writes, then shows her note to me wiking exaggeratedly.

I chuckle. “Yes, I think food is definitely the way to a man’s heart. Ares is obsessed with Larry’s cookies, I see a pile of them each night here and each morning there just gone, pouf! Wait, maybe I should keep an eye on my cook since I'm not the one actually cooking.” I roll my eyes dramatically, watching her laugh silently.

She’s cool. It's so nice to make new friends, especially ones who get you and respect your boundaries.

I pull out of the fridge all the meals Larry made with sushis, lasagnas, chicken curry and a huge salad. Then I take out the plate he made for me with tomato, strawberries, basil and boiled eggs.

“Pick what you want, girl.” I try to encourage her to make herself at home.

“Thank you so much, it looks really good,” she writes without asking me why I’m not eating like her and I’m grateful that she isn’t.

We eat together talking about the series we’ve just watched and giggle at a video of her chubby orange cat, Harley. After watching yet another episode of our show, we both get to sleep. I made one of the guest bedrooms extra cozy with more pillows and books for her. I even added a few snacks I thought she could like. Once we say goodbye, Rose yawning and waving one last time at me before closing her door, I head to our room, change into my silky pink shorts and cami and sneak into Ares’s side of the bed.

Umm.

Yes I’m acting like a teenager sniffing her boyfriend's pillow but damn. His scent is like a drug to me. I turn off the light, crossing my fingers and making a silent prayer.

Stay safe.

Just as I’m about to doze off, I hear the sound of wood cracking. That must be the wind. It’s been pouring rain for hours. I wonder where he is, if he’s safe. Yet, a few seconds later, the sound of a door squeaking convinces me that there is someone walking near the bedrooms. The idea of a stranger bursting into my room makes me want to jump out the window and run to the woods.

Stay calm, don’t panic, you’re safe here, just call him, he’ll know what to do.

Without waiting another second I slide to my side of the bed and grab my phone.

“Can’t really talk right now. What do you need princess ?” His voice is unusually hoarse, out of breath, as if he had been running.

“I think—I think there’s someone behind the door,” I whisper, borderline panicked.

“It’s Cal, one of my men. He’s making rounds. I got all of them tracked and reporting to me every fifteen minutes,” he states without a doubt in his tone.

“Rea-really?”

“You’re safe, princess. Go back to sleep. I’ll be there soon.”

“I…I wish you could be there, like right now… I have a bad feeling.” I sound like a crying baby, but seriously, sometimes you can feel it in your guts that something wrong is about to happen. I know he’s the boss and I’m well aware that he’s juggling many important things tonight but still… Mafia and gangs are our lives, this is our normal and I feel in my stomach that I need to be close to him right now. “Could… I know you’re busy, but…could you come back now ? I…I really need you.”

A gunshot echoes on the line, voices of men crowding our call as one loud cry of pain fills the call.

“Ares? Ares, are you still there?”

(click.)

Ares

The hunt was finally over.

I could see the contour of his fucking throat under the dim light of the poker table in the abandon warehouse he had chosen to meet up with a gun supplier. The guy in question had never been clean and I had kept my business away from him to avoid any chances of one of his oversight leading him to the feds or worse.

Here they were, playing poker with other men who would soon meet their maker. It needed to be done, I couldn't take any more threats targeting my men's family. Nor mine.

One picture of her taken at the coffee shop on one of her outings with Ash and Shadow had landed on the doorsteps of the club two days ago. A large red cross marked her sweet, angelic face.

I couldn’t sleep at night knowing my girl was walking with a target on her back.

No fucking way.

It had to stop, and from his presence on my territory tonight, his plan was about to succeed soon if I didn't put an end to it. Nero, the head of the Italian Chapter, owning Philadelphia, had tried to bite more than what he could chew. Rushing his expansion, installing distrust in his rank, creating chaos around him.

Greed was the kind of sin that could bite you back in the ass and he was about to taste just how reckless he had been.

Thirty of my men were surrounding the perimeter, there was no chance for the men in there to come out alive. I was kneeled next to Carter and Blank under a window that had a direct clean shot to Nero. Ash, Shadow and the others were covering all the exits.

It was going to be clean, fast and bloody.

The pressure in my lungs was rising and pressing down on my chest like a tonne of bricks. It couldn't go wrong. I had led my men there, with their trust and their loyalty, I had to get them out of here alive, too.

Vox, who was situated on the opposite side of the warehouse, reached to me with our earpiece.

“Still sure about keeping him alive?” he asks. I had thought this through. Killing him was a matter of time, but we had to be smart and interrogate him first. Nero had many connections with the Italian mafia and I needed to gather all the intel I could if I wanted a chance at taking his cities back without heading blind into the hands of the mafia which was significant enough to represent a true threat to the Raven Sons. They had more men, more ressources, and weren't keen on newcomers. Nero would have no other choice but to talk in our basement and give us his suppliers, clients and all the fucking dirt he had on all of them.

Leverage.

That’s what was the best currency in our world and he was about to give me plenty of.

“I want him alive. For the others…no survivors,” I repeat, flexing my hand ‘cause fuck, it would have been sweet to see his neck snap and fall on his chest. Guess I'll have to wait longer to get the satisfaction.

He had threatened the club and our families.

And Mia.

A clean shot wouldn't do for him. I would handle him personally and make sure he would die without a single centimeters of skin remaining on his battered body.

“They’re moving, boss. Do you authorize the shot?” says Tank in my earpiece.

Nero stood, buttoning his shiny navy Italian suits and shaking the guy's hand.

The party was over.

I had enough for the night, and I wanted to come back to my little tornado and pull her in my arms in the comfort of our bed.

Three words.

That's all she was asking for her to let go.

To stay.

And still, I was petrified of pronouncing them out loud.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, the unique pattern I had chosen when Mia was calling.

Was she okay?

“Can’t really talk right now. What do you need, princess ?” We were about to launch the assault, and yet, I needed to make sure my girl was safe before moving a single muscle, even if my enemy was starting to move and potentially disappear from our sight.

“Target is moving, prez. What do we do?” says Shadow in the earpiece.

“Boss, we need to act now before he sees us,” Tank urges me.

“I've got him in a clear shot, do I have the go ahead?” Vox asks hurriedly.

My guys were shouting at me now, urging me to fucking decide. Yet, Mia’s safety was the only matter my blood was pulsing for.

“I think—I think there’s someone behind the door,” she says, her sweet little voice strained, panicked. Checking my notifications, I notice one of my guys making rounds upstairs.

“It’s Cal, one of my men. He’s making rounds. I got all of them tracked and reporting to me every fifteen minutes,” I tell her as calmly as I can despite my men shouting in my ear.

“Rea-really?” Relief washes over her, and at that second I wish I could kiss her hair and tell her she's safe.

“You’re safe, princess. Go back to sleep. I’ll be there soon,” I say, holding the barrel of my Glock right in the direction of Nero. The gun was heavy with bullets, all wearing his name.

“I…I wish you could be there, like right now… I have a bad feeling.”

Fuck, why now?

Business over women.

The words of my father hit me in the guts, but this time, they hold less power, less meaning. As if something had changed. As if my priorities had shifted.

“Could… I know you’re busy but… Could you come back home now? I…I really need you.”

Fuck.

Mia needs me.

She wants me home.

She said home as in her home as well.

Just as Mia's voice ends on the line, I notice Nero glancing at the window with too much insistence, and without even stepping toward it, he takes his gun out of his holster and raises it in my direction.

BANG!

“Ares? Ares, are you still there!?”  Mia's little voice fades in the background as a rain of bullets starts falling.

Chapter 21

Ares

Fucking hell.

Everything had gone in a fraction of a second, our targets lying on the concrete floor next to the poker table. Even the one I wanted to keep alive.

I had been distracted. Mia’s voice chants in the back of my mind, pleading with me to come back to her when I have to focus, stay sharp, and know my priorities.

I intended to shoot Nero in the shoulder to avoid him pulling the trigger where I was waiting at the end of. But the call had messed with my plan, and Nero was suspicious, so we had to act, and in the midst of it all, the bullet went straight into his rib, resulting in the fucking Italian spasming on the floor, with barely enough time to get intel out of him.

Vox was the first in the room, followed by half of the brothers, the other staying on the outside to look out for any unwelcome visitors. My VP stared at me, clenching his jaw, and even the voices and rushed movements around us couldn’t cover his silent questioning.  I could hear him think, shouting at me in his mind, “Why the fuck did you aim here?”

But I already knew the answer.

Because the man I had hunted, tracked, and shot in front of me, served on a fucking silver platter, had become the least of my priorities.

“Ares? Please answer me, or I swear I’m going to kill you right freaking now—” Mia’s blurred voice shouts from the phone I had put in my back pocket.

She must think I’ve been shot.

“Fu-fuck you…Malone….you’ll regret this—” Nero says, agonizing under me, blood pumping out of him at the speed of light. He would die soon and badly. That was the only relief from my mistake. But the intel, fuck, I need the intel.

“I’m here, Mia, don’t—” I tell her, keeping my voice even.

“Ares, God, it’s you, you…I thought, please, don’t hang up…” Her tone is panicked.

Vox steps toward me. “Is Rose alright? Did something happen?” His brows furrow and his gaze is sharp and violent. I shake my head, signaling to him with one hand. “Everything’s fine.” He nods, his gaze suddenly softening, circling the body spread beneath us.

“I’m okay. I have to go now.” Not giving a fuck that all my men were staring at me with wide eyes.

“Please, no, don’t. Come home, please, I have a bad feeling—” she pleads, her little voice reaching places in my chest it shouldn’t have.

“Mia, it’s alright. I’ll be home soon,” I try to reassure her.

“No, you don’t get it, I….I need you, Ares, please,” she murmurs, her voice breaking.

“I…”

Speechless.

Mia had taken my dark iron heart and had cut the metal with her soul, making my world fall from its axis.

“Prez, we gotta start the interrogation. He’s got an hour max,” says Carter, kneeling next to Nero and pushing his index finger into the guy’s wound, making the bastard cry like a baby.

"Ares,” Vox says, pulling me back to reality. He zeroes in on me, as if he could read my fucking mind. “We’ll deal with him.”

He knew.

He knew I had to leave. But leaving them with the prey we had hunted all together for months, which was supposed to be the ultimate reward I wanted to personally handle, was bittersweet. New. Unfamiliar.

I had never let personal matters over the club ever since I became prez. Perhaps because I couldn’t make a distinction between me and the club. I was the embodiment of it. And yet, my little tornado had made her way into my twisted soul and wrecked my world, leaving me there, so fucking torn yet already all too aware of where I really wanted to be.

Business over women.

Fuck it.

“Take all you can get, skin him alive, then burn his body up the valley,” I order Vox, locking our gazes and feeling a sense of relief because he had known this torment all too well before me.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I tell her, hearing a sigh of relief on the other side of the call.

Then, without a second more, I turn my back on the prize I thought would give me the satisfaction I need and drive back home to my woman, repeating in my head the four letters words that have become a vital need to be said out loud.

Mia

He was alive, but still, I couldn’t stop crying, knees up under my chin, rolled on his side of the bed, thinking I could have lost him. My breathing stopped the minute I heard the gunshot and then came back when I heard his voice again. I knew he was busy, I knew this was an important operation, and yet, I had this feeling that he needed to come home, that we couldn’t be apart tonight, that something monumental was about to happen.

Twenty minutes after the call, I heard his bike pass our gates. The clock indicates one a.m., the moon shining through the beige curtains as the only source of light around me.

I couldn’t wait.

I needed to see him.

Now.

Make sure, with my own eyes, that he wasn’t hurt.

So, I shoved the covers away and ran the stairs to the main entry door, a few heads turning to me as I exited our large cabin in my tiny pink nightwear. They all looked away within a second, remembering the cost of gawking at their boss’s wife.

The air was cold and small drops of rain were exploding on my burning skin as I watched, barefoot in the gravel, Ares remove his helmet and get off his bike. A good five meters were separating us, the wind brushing trees and branches, echoing around us like a blanket, stopping the time.

“You came back,” I say, realizing I’m out of breath.

“You called.” His tone is low and grounded, his body covered in his black gears, making him look even more impressive than usual.

“Why…? I thought the club was your priority above anything else.” A shiver runs down my spine as the cold of the night brushes against my skin.

“It was.”

“Was?” I bite my lower lip.

“Mia.” He makes one step toward me at the same time as I take one step back.

“Ares, I…I thought I’d lost you tonight. I don’t think I have any more tears to shed if you can’t—”

“You wanted to see if I had the guts to choose you, Mia. All along, I couldn't put my finger on it. Why my wife wanted so badly to run away when she seemed so content in our home?” He shakes his head. “I was too fucking blind to see.”

“To see what…?” My heart pulses under my ribs, threatening to jump out of my chest and land on the ground between us.

“All your life, you thought you had to live up to the expectations of others, and it took me months to understand that you don't want someone who just wanna be with you, princess. You need someone who's willing to chase you when you run. To catch you when you fall. To love you even when you don't love yourself.”

His words were burning me with the most intoxicating fire I had ever touched.

He saw me.

He really saw me behind the smiles, the confident facade.

“So run, Mia, run as fast as you can, deep into the forest,” he points with his gloves before removing them slowly, “and watch me catch you. Watch me earn your heart.”

“Ares…”

Was it for real? Did he really want me, all of me? Even the disgusting part, the eating disorder, the abandonment issues, the fear of rejection… Even all of them?

“Now, Mia,” he commands me.

I was right. Something monumental was about to happen, and it had nothing to do with the club launching an operation on whatever enemies they were fighting.

It was about us.

About his ultimate gesture to show me that he was in it for the long run.

That he was willing to say the words I needed to hear so badly to finally let go.

Glancing at the forest on my right, the dark leafy green swallowing the moonlight, the wind slapping my face and making my breath as clear as snow, I gasped and ran to the darkness.

Only this time, I wasn’t running to escape.

I was running to get caught.

Chapter 22

Ares

My little tornado had once more proven to me that we were made of the same spirit. Her toned legs ran toward the forest with her tiny pink shorts and top, her long fiery hair moving wildly against the element.

I knew I was a twisted man, things always had to go a different road with me. And it turns out I had found my match, a woman as untamed and wild as me, not backing down from a run into the woods under pouring rain if the prize was our final destination.

I didn’t even acknowledge my men all guarding the house, one every fifty meters, hands on their rifles, looking away. My house, my rules, and my fucking woman. Deep into the forest, we would be hidden from everyone.

I gave her a minute, just enough so she could let the adrenaline pulse through her veins, become euphoric with the thrill of knowing I was behind her, ready to grab her and link my soul forever to hers. So when her fiery hair disappeared from sight, I removed my cut and ran to the forest, not caring about how loud my footsteps were. I wanted her to hear me come for her.

I wanted her to know that I would always chase her, that she would never have to be afraid of being unwanted ever again. That this place was her house and my heart her home. And I fucking hoped that in every step bringing us closer, I fucking hoped she knew that she was it for me. That no other woman could ever fill the void she had created in my chest and that only she could fill. That her laugh was my oxygen and her smiles, my religion.

So, ran, I fucking did.

Until I could no longer see the light from the porch of the cabin. Until the mud covered my boots and the rain soaked my shirt, the fabric becoming one with my skin. I ran until I saw the bouncing of creamy flesh behind the branches, her breath getting louder as I was reaching toward her.

Her legs were moving fast despite running barefoot in the dirt, and I knew I would then bring her home and wash her myself, caring for every wound she could ever have, inside and out.

The silhouette of my breathtaking wife appeared fully in my sight, the predator in me roaring in my chest as I lunged for her and caught her waist with one arm, lifting her legs off the ground, her back pressed on me.

“Mia.” I inhale her hair, her cinnamon scent clutching my heart like a vice.

“Ares,” she says, out of breath, her little hand covering the one I had laid on her stomach, possessively holding what would be forever mine to cherish and protect.

“You caught me.” Thick tears echo in her throat.

“I’ll always catch you, always,” I say, turning her soaked body to face mine, keeping her above the ground, protecting her from the elements. She looks at her feet, her trembling hands landing on my chest and gripping the wet fabric.

“Mia, look at me.” My voice is softer than I’ve ever heard.

Her sweet face lifts slowly, biting her lips hard with watery eyes.

“I love you,” I say, locking my eyes with hers.

There.

I said it.

The four-letter word.

“I love you, and I’ve been loving you since the day I held you in my arms when you had your first panic attack here. Even then, I already knew.” Our foreheads connect in the darkness.

“I…I love you too,” she murmurs in a breathy voice.

I’ve never been a man who needed validation, but damn if those words didn’t tear my inside out and build me back into a new fucking man.

She loves me.

My Mia loves me, and I’m the luckiest man on earth.

“That’s it, princess.” I rub my finger on her wedding band. “Till death do us part.”

“Yes.” She nods with a shy smile rising at the corner of her lips.

“Let’s go home now. I think it’s time I show you all the things I’ve been burning to do with you for months,” I rasp, my body suddenly reaching a thousand degrees.

“Ares, don’t. I don’t want to go back yet.” Her hands hold my shoulders as if she’s afraid to let go.

“I.. Fuck, I didn’t mean to pressure you. Fuck—” Regret instantly settles in my guts for pushing her too far too soon.

“No, it’s not that…it’s, I can’t wait a second longer.” She shakes her head, tears falling from her chocolate pupils.

“But you’re freezing. I’m not leaving you out here.” No fucking way, I’m leaving my wife in the cold of the night. We’re getting home right fucking now. I let her down and take her face in my hands.

“No—I…I need you,” she repeats, her voice more confident than before, her eyes shining with a dangerous spark I’ve been trying to ignore since the moment I kissed her on our wedding day. Her body gets closer to me, with heat burning in her hazelnut gaze.

“Now, please,” she pleads with a mix of gravity and eagerness, fisting my shirt with a desperation I know can only match mine. There’s nothing I can refuse her, anything she wants, she can have it. And I’m just as much on the edge as she is, barely able to think, knowing I have in my arms the woman I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.

My little tornado.

My wife.

My Mia.

I should know better and bring her back to dry herself in our home and not stay here, at night, on the ground, trees surrounding us with rain pouring in the forest of our property with drenched clothes sticking to our bodies as the water pours down on us. But at that instant, I don’t feel the cold anymore, nor the drops of water or the pulse of my heart running wild in my chest.

Nothing matters but the woman I’m holding in my arms.

Anything she wants, I’ll give it to her.

Everything that I am.

Back then, before knowing her, I expected her to want silky things, expensive sheets and a luxurious mattress, but now I know that my Mia is just like me. She doesn’t need material stuff. She just wants to feel alive. And even wet and shivering with leaves and small branches in her wild hair, she looks more royal than any woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

A true queen.

“Right now?” I grunt, searching for doubt in her beautiful eyes.

“Right now.” She holds her chin high, challenging me.

Sliding my palm behind her nape, I pull her closer, our mouths seconds away from crashing against each other. I pull us down on the ground, rocks pointing under my thighs, but don’t give a damn about it. I’m shielding her from the mud, only her knees touching the dirt as she straddles my lap, her hand fisting my shirt as if her life depended on it.

“I love you,” she tells me, her eyes going back and forth with my lips. Shutting down all my defenses, all my resolve.

My Mia does that.

She destroys control.

She destroys logic.

She takes it all away and breaks them until they bend to her will, to her want.

“I love you too, Mia,” I chant to her like a prayer, my hand sliding to catch her hair in my fist, pulling her closer.

And then I kiss her like the world’s about to end if I don’t.

I kiss her until we’re nothing more than desire embodied in two people who should have never met yet understand each other better than anyone ever could.

Our lips never part as we merge our souls into the forest, the wind and echoes of the night masking our sounds as I watch my Mia unfurl before me. My eyes never stop watching her, constantly reminding myself that I’m just a mortal in front of a goddess and almost choking on my own pride for having the right to do this with her.

Even after all is done, I can’t stop kissing her soft lips, hungry for her as if years will never suffice it. As the rain batters down, soaking us through, I hoist her up in my arms, her warmth pressed against me despite the cold. With our clothes back on, clinging wet and heavy, I carry her through the stormy forest toward our home. I nuzzle my lips into her damp hair, my voice gruff but tender.

“You’re my whole damn world, you know that?” She shivers against me, and I hold her tighter, feeling the fierce bond between us sealed into these woods, body and soul. As we finally reach our bathroom, I shower her, her hands resting on my shoulders as I kneel before my queen, cleaning the legs that had run into those woods for us. Then I tuck her back into the covers and quickly shower myself before sliding behind her, pulling her sweet little body into mine, and falling asleep with my wife in my arms, knowing that I will wake up to her smile every fucking day of my life.

Chapter 23

Mia

For the first time in my life, life is sweet. I’m not scared of the person I love walking away from me. I’m where I’m supposed to be. And this realization hit me even more when I woke up in the arms of Ares this morning after he confessed the words I’d imprint in my heart forever.

I love him and he loves me, all of me. Even after seeing who I really am, he still wants this life, this marriage with me.

“Hello, wife,” his raspy voice says, his rough hand rubbing circles on my stomach in the most delicious way to wake up.

“Hello, husband,” I answer, an impossible smile tugging at my lips. I slept like a baby in his arms all night, his musky scent pushing away all my doubts and fears.

He is my home, my shield, my anchor.

“You smell so good. How d’ya do that? Always smell like apple pie, I swear.” He inhales deeply, burying his nose in my hair.

I chuckle. “As long as you like apple pie.”

He turns my face and kisses the corner of my lips, then murmurs words only a husband could say to his wife and still get away with. After a few minutes, I’m flushed and panting when he gets up and leaves a rough kiss on my forehead with a devious smirk.

“Get your pretty face downstairs. Vox will be here soon to pick Rose up, and we can all have breakfast together,” he says, closing the buttons of his black shirt.

“Don’t tell me you guys already had a meeting before I woke up,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Not one, two,” he replies, winking at me with his sinful smile. Of course he did, must have called his VP the second he woke up to get a heads-up on last night.

I shake my head. “I’ll be there in a minute,” I say, pushing the bed sheets away, stretching my legs.

“Don’t be too long, Mrs Malone, or I’ll come back and drag you down myself.” He smirks.

Can this man be any more attractive?

“I’m well aware.” I chuckle, biting my lips and noticing his jaw tightening at the sight.

Ares

“Four in Philadelphia, five in Pittsburgh, and two in Cleveland,” assures Vox with a determined voice.

“Five in Pittsburgh…” I rub my stubble, “good, that’s fucking good.”

“We’ll need to takeover it soon to avoid the Greeks to get ahead of us but, yeah, pretty fuckin’ great,” he says with a half-grin, patting my shoulder.

“You did good, Vox… Thank you,” I rasp, clearing my throat, looking at my mug of coffee on the kitchen counter.

He nods and swallows his coffee. “Yeah, no problem.”

Giggles echo behind us as our wives come from the living room, smiling from ear to ear, Rose silently laughing then glancing at her husband with a look I can only understand too well now.

“Oh my god, Vox. Harley is the cutest cat ever. Rose just showed me when she sleeps in plants.” Mia chuckles, wearing a long blue dress, with her hair loose making my imagination go into dark places.

“Yeah, that little thing is putting hairs all over the place, even got some on my bike.” He shakes his head, then smirks at his wife, who’s carrying a smug smile and signs something I don’t get.

“Rose says I complain, but I like the fluff ball more than I want to admit.” He shrugs, his eyes locked with Rose’s. “Yeah, alright.” he rasps, chuckling before kissing his wife’s hair.

“Rose, come sit here. I’ll make you some tea,” Mia says, showing one of the stools to her, then stepping to the kettle. “Is granola and yogurt okay with you? I can also make a smoothie if you want? I got all the superfood powders you can imagine,” she tells her while holding a jar of granola and I can’t help but smile at my wife talking about food with excitement.

She’s not there yet, but she’s on her way to healing. I can feel it in my guts, and I’ll be there every step of the way to support her.

Rose points to the jar with a smile, her blonde locks contrasting with her blue eyes. Mia makes her a bowl, applying herself more than usual to make it nice and then gives it to her. Then she grabs oat, berries and vegan yogurt stuff, which I tried once without looking, and fuck, won’t do the mistake again. She makes her bowl and sighs. Once she’s satisfied with it, she joins Rose.

All sat around the marble counter, we chat and talk about their life in Seattle, and Mia and Rose make plans to “binge-watch a new series together.” Whatever that means. They even make a fucking pinky promise about it, making Vox and I exchange a much dubious look. Our women contrast with our biker lives, but fuck, I don’t think he would exchange it for anything in this world, and neither am I.

“Angel, we gotta go. Plane leaves in an hour,” Vox says, standing and shaking my hand. Rose hugs Mia, and my girl signs “See you soon” to Rose. Bet she taught her a few signs, and I am proud my woman’s trying hard to learn them.

“It was so great to have you guys,” adds Mia, sliding next to me like a puzzle piece, my hand resting on the low of her back.

After they leave, I turn to my wife and kiss the hell out of her.

“God,” she gasps, panting, her cheek all fucking pink with her swollen lips and disheveled red hair.

“Just Ares.” I smirk. She pushes my chest, shaking her head.

“I gotta show you something,” I tell her, my tone back to business.

“Like now?” she asks with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah,” I deadpan.

“I’ve got a video call with a client in an hour, will it be enough time?”

“It will, it’s not that far.”

“Oh, where are you taking me?” Excitement pulls at the corner of her hazelnut eyes.

“You’ll see. Put your shoes on, princess. We’re going now. I’ll head to the club after. Ash and Carter will bring you back,” I command.

“Carter too?” She raises a brow.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you. He will replace Shadow from now on.”

“Oh, um, yes. I mean, Shadow was super nice but I like Carter too. He’s, he knows how to keep things for himself, kind of helps when I’m around food,” she explains and I’m glad she’s comfortable with the guys. I stroke her cheek, wishing I could make this fucking eating disorder go away.

“He’s cold as fuck, but he would take a bullet for the folks he cares about. Just gotta give him a bit of time to warm up,” I explain. She nods with a little smile and my shoulders go down a bit, relief washing over me knowing that she’s alright with this. Ash and Carter will make the best team to protect her, and with Carter's reputation, hell, I doubt we’ll ever have any issue.

Sitting on the entryway bench, she puts on a pair of green high heels with strings and butterflies. I shake my head. My woman got unusual taste.

But I guess that’s good.

Otherwise, she would have never chosen me.

“C’mon, let’s go, princess.” Grabbing her delicate perfectly manicured hand in my rough palm, I lead her to our black SUV.

Time to show my girl what I’ve been working on for months.

Chapter 24

Mia

“Seriously, Ares, if I fall, you will never hear the end of—” I hiss between my teeth, struggling to walk with my heels.

“We’re almost there,” he assures me.

“Why did I choose those shoes?” I grunt, and it makes him chuckle.

“Look good in them, princess. Here, one more step.” With one hand on my lower back and one holding my hand, Ares leads me God knows where after making me swear to close my eyes for the whole drive. The tiny green butterflies of my strappy heels won’t make it, but they were worth it. I look bomb with them on.

“That’s it, alright, open them.” His hand resting on my hips behind me.

I take a deep breath and slowly open my eyes, bracing myself for whatever Ares has planned. The sight that greets me is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Oh my god, Ares,” I breathe out, struggling to keep my excitement in check. “What…how…?”

“You like it?” Stepping next to me, his gaze stares at me as if he’s studying my every move. I let out a dramatic sigh, feeling like I’ve just stepped into a high-fashion fairytale. The space is enormous, with high ceilings and big windows letting in an abundance of natural light. The walls are a soft, calming gray, providing the perfect backdrop for the vibrant clothes and accessories that fill the room.

“It’s for you, princess. You said you needed a place to work sometimes outside of the house. I found this place a few months ago,” he explains, his voice faltering a bit.

A few months ago? He already knew he wanted to keep me back then…

“This is perfect. I can’t believe you did this.” Turning to him, my hands land on his chest.

“Well, I got help, and I called Kiara a few times to make sure you’d like it.” He grins.

What? He called my seventeen-year-old sister? My dangerous, moody, mountain of muscles husband took the time to call my sister to make sure I would love this place? And just when I thought I couldn’t fall in love with my husband even more…

The centerpiece is a long marble counter, topped with an array of accessories—glittering jewelry, stylish sunglasses, and other fashion essentials. I let out a delighted laugh as I spot the seating area, beautifully styled with plush chairs and a chic coffee table. I mean, come on, someone pinch me, please? Even if this is the opposite of his rustic style, there’s still some touches of wood and metal here and there, reminding me of our home.

“I could sit with the clients here and show them the clothes I selected for them here,” I point at the dressing area, “Ares, I don’t know how to thank you; this is perfect.”

I turn to him and fist the hem of his suit, pulling him toward me and crushing my lips to his. A low growl comes out of his handsome lips, and I suddenly feel like I’ve been sunburned, his gaze dripping on me like lava.

“I wanted it to be perfect for you.” His nose touches mine. “Glad you like it, princess.”

“I’ve always wanted to have a place of mine to work and have clients. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I kiss him once more, this time holding nothing back.

Ares’s phone rings and breaks our kiss. “Damn it,” he says, taking the call, “yeah, alright, she’ll be there in five,” he says, his hand stroking the side of my throat gently.

I love when he does this.

Gentle, yet rough.

Like a china doll in the hands of a bear.

“Ash and Carter are downstairs to get you home.”

I nod, then just before leaving, he stares at me with a spark in his eyes and lifts my hand to his mouth, leaving a kiss on the inside of my wrist.

“I’ll see you tonight, big guy.” I smile, biting my lip.

“See you tonight, princess.”

Chapter 25

Mia

Two weeks after Ares gave me the key to my brand new working place, Kiara came to visit us on the weekend and she burst into tears when she saw me there. Said I looked so happy, she couldn’t keep it in. Even after all those months, I never told her about what was at stake between my marriage and her future, and I hope it will remain this way forever. Not everything needs to be said. But I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure my parents don’t suffocate her like they did to me. She’s still my little sister, after all.

Since then, Ares and I have made a rule of being at home everyday for dinner. It gives us more time to actually be together or just stay silent and do nothing but be together. I found there's nothing quite like journaling in the living room while he finishes his workout on the rug next to me with a hundred push-ups, making my ovaries burst into flames.

I love our new routine, our life, and even the challenges it contains. Dr Ofenhaus told me trying new foods would certainly be better if I was with Ares, and the feeling of safety would remain because of his presence.

Hence why, we’re both sitting next to each other at the kitchen counter. Ares carrying a determined look I’m convinced he usually reserves for his business meetings. Don’t know why, but when he looks at me this way…that’s kind of hot, actually. Pushing the plate between us toward me, Ares takes a fork and softly puts it down next to it.

“Okay, no way, like absolutely no.” I shake my head at the pasta dish in front of me.

“Mia.” He tilts his head, his voice falling so low I can feel it in my belly.

“Nope,” I say with a fake smile.

“You said you’d give it a try...” He lifts one of his brows.

Yes, I did tell him that yesterday after my session with Dr Ofenhaus, but I’m not really sure now.

“Did I? Don’t remember. I say a lot of things. You shouldn't listen to everything that comes out of my mouth,” I assure him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you’ll be proud of yourself if you do it.” His tattooed palm covers mine.

I hate that he’s right.

“I’ll do it with you. It’s not the same because it’s easy for me, but maybe if you see that nothing happens when I eat, perhaps your brain will understand that it’s okay.”

“I don’t know…”

It’s safe, Mia. Ares is here, and he won’t let anything happen to you.

It’s just food.

“Trust me, okay? If it gets too much, we’ll stop. Either way, I’ll be there with ya. I saw what an episode is. I can handle it and take care of you if it happens.” He laces his fingers with mine, shielding me from the beginning of a panic attack.

I’m strong, I’m brave, I’m not alone.

I can do this.

“Okay, but, like, one bite. Just ONE.” I point my index in the air. The corner of his mouth lifts, and damn, I want to rush in his arms and bite a piece of his flesh just to taste him. Like right now.

“Mia?” His tone slides to dangerous territory.

“Um?”

Those damn lips.

“Baby, focus, we’ll have time for whatever you’re thinking after.” He chuckles with his deep voice.

“I bet you’d be interested in what I’m thinking.” I lick my lower lip.

Oh, that would be so much better than trying to eat this unidentified dish.

A low chuckle comes out of him, and I fall even harder for my husband, a hand running in his hair as if he couldn’t believe the piece of work I am.

“Hey, you married me!” I tell him, pointing at his chest with my finger.

“Oh, I’m fucking much aware, princess,” he grins, “and I wouldn’t change it for anything in this world.” He takes my hand to his lips and turns it until my wrist is facing him before he leaves a wet kiss on it, making goosebumps appear all over me. His gaze darkens, letting my forearm back on the table, he shifts the plate toward me.

“I asked Larry to make it simple.” He motions his chin toward the pasta in front of us.

“Simple is…good. Simple is…” I look down at the plate.

“Safe,” he says with a reassuring tone.

“Yes, exactly.” I blush at the sight of my husband finishing my sentences in such a vulnerable part of myself.

“He made the pasta, said it was organic and local or shit and…” He furrows his brows as if he’s trying hard to remember what our fifty-year-old grumpy cook told him.

“Ares?” Hearing my voice, it sounds so small and vulnerable.

“What?” He says, studying me.

“I love you,” I declare simply.

He jerks back a bit, his brows lifting in surprise. “I love you too princess. You’re okay? Doing this? I’m not pushing you too much?”

“It’s, it’s perfect. No one ever took that much time to…” he waits patiently for me to find the right words, “just you taking this time and putting this much effort, it’s…it’s huge for me,” I admit, my heart pounding hard under my chest.

He smiles at me gently. “You keep looking at me this way, woman, and I swear we’re gonna have to take a break right the fuck now.”

I laugh loudly, then shake my head. “No, no. I mean, I want to, but you’re right, I want to do this.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins proudly.

“So, yeah, where were we? Larry, yeah, shit, he said it was made from scratch, and the tomatoes and basil are from the garden. Basically, can't be healthier.”

I swoon over my husband, larger than life, with skulls inked into his hands, talking to me about vegetables with the seriousness of a business meeting. Biting back a smile, I lean over and kiss his lips softly, then pull back and dig into the plate, watching his chest swell with pride.

It’s…good.

The pasta doesn’t feel like it’s choking me, and knowing that the sauce was homemade appeases my fears. It’s dense and full of flavors and…

Okay.

I’m okay.

My fingers aren’t trembling, my heart isn't racing, my throat isn’t closing.

I’m eating food outside of my comfort zone, and that’s okay.

Ares' eyes widen, watching me like a hawk, from fingers to throat to cheek, as if he wanted to find my triggers and make them go away.

“Mia, you okay?” He flexes his hand, furrowing his brows and making my heart melt at the sight of his worry.

“I…I think I’m good.” Biting my lip, I put the fork down.

“Wanna try another?”

“Um…”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s not push it.” He cups my face with his palm. “You did so fucking great, princess. I’m so proud of you.” Tears suddenly appear in my eyes and they seem to fall without me even noticing. Perhaps my body needs its own release method.

“I’m…I’m proud of myself too,” I admit, smiling, putting a palm on my mouth, amazed at the step I managed to take today.

To anyone it would be just a bite, but to me…to me it’s the beginning of healing. The beginning of a long journey ahead, but still, it’s like stepping on a ship and knowing you were meant to be there all along but just got lost along the way.

Ares stands and goes to the fridge, then takes out a large plate of salad with peaches, pistachios and boiled eggs. He swaps the pasta dish with it, then comes back, sitting next to me and digging into the pasta like a starved man.

“What?” he asks when I stare at my bear of a husband, gentle yet rough, tender yet brutal, loving me yet merciless with others.

“It’s just, I’m really in love with you, like stupidly in love,” I murmur, shaking away the tears, leaning in and leaving a soft kiss on his lips. He kisses me back, then hoists me on him, his thicks arms carrying me like a feather.

“I think we’ve seen enough of this kitchen,” he grunts, then stands and carries me back upstairs. I nestle in the crook of his neck, inhaling his reassuring spicy scent, the essence bringing me to a safe place where I belong. We’ve come a long way, but nothing has ever felt more right than us right now in our home. I never thought it would have come to this after walking down the aisle and meeting this stranger I knew nothing of.

“I love you, Mia, and I’ll keep your heart safe as long as you want me to,” he murmurs before kissing my hair.

“Might be a long time,” I whisper softly.

“Good thing, ‘cause you’re stuck with me forever, princess.” He smirks, biting my lower lip. I smile, giggling from happiness and leaving feather light kisses on his jaw as he passes the doorway.

I’m in love with my husband, so what?

THE END

Epilogue

4 years later,

“Atlas Malone, get your little feet right here, right now, or I will call your father, and—” My mini-sized Ares runs to his bed and jumps on it, giggling so much that he falls back and I catch him before his head bumps the bed frame.

Phew, saved the day. I’m out of breath, my back hurting as the little person in my belly keeps kicking me relentlessly. She’ll be a runner too. I can feel it.

How come I haven’t expected our kids to be fiery little people with little to no hope of getting them to focus on a chair for more than two seconds?

Wild, curious and eager to feel alive each second of their life.

Well, I guess it runs in the family…

“What’s going on here?” asks Ares, walking with his fists on his chest and mimicking a monkey, making our two years old burst into laughter.

“Daddy!” shouts Atlas, imitating his dad on his tiny bed, the bedsheets adorned with cars and trucks. My little man is growing so fast, it makes my eyes get all watery.

“I’m gonna catch you, Atlas. You better run fast!” Ares roars, cracking his neck and positioning himself like a sprinter on the starting lines.

Atlas runs toward me, hiding behind my legs, his laugh filling the space around us. Ares shakes his head, grinning, and then comes to us, circling my back, our son playing between our feet.

Our life is beautiful and I wouldn’t change it for the world. And just like anything worth it in this life, it comes with a lot of tough times and challenges, but we go through them as a team, and always get out of them stronger.

Atlas' arrival in our life was a major change two years ago, and I had to rethink my working schedule because I wanted to make him the priority. I took less clients and hired someone else to help me. I never stopped seeing Dr Ofenhaus in all those years, but I decided to only have a session per month to keep habits away. I’m still not fully healed, and maybe I never will be, but I can eat almost anything I want now without freaking out or even thinking too much about it. I think Atlas helped. I didn’t want to be a bad example for him, and in this sense it helped me grow and take my power back on my eating disorder.

“How’s my favorite girls?” He rubs his hand on my lavender, sequin mini dress.

Who said pregnant women couldn’t dress in party wear?

“Good, but your daughter has been hitting my ribs since this morning,” I complain, my head resting on his chest, his light stubble making me want to run my finger on his jaw.

“Fiery girl, just like her mother.” Ares grins, his rough hands trailing down my belly, feeling the soft kicks of our baby girl. I roll my eyes, though the smile on my face betrays me. Atlas, still hiding between my legs, pokes his head out.

“Daddy… baby… kick?” Atlas mumbles, looking up at Ares with wide, curious green eyes.

"She is," Ares confirms, ruffling his messy brown hair, the spitting image of him. "She’s getting ready to meet you." Lifting our two-year-old effortlessly into his arms, he asks him, "You’re ready to be a big brother?" Atlas nods, his little face furrowed in determination. My husband smiles back at our son but there’s something deeper in his eyes, something that shines and takes my breath away.

"You’ll be her protector, just like I protect you and your mom,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. Atlas giggles, but Ares’s gaze remains on mine, that unspoken promise between us growing stronger with each day, each laugh, each moment of our wild, chaotic life.

"I love you," I whisper, resting my hand on his chest.

Ares kisses the top of my head, then lowers his voice so only I can hear, "I love you, princess,” his emerald gaze locks with mine, “until my last breath, and even after.”

I bite my smile, my two favorite men in the whole wide world around me and our daughter snuggling in the warmth of my belly.

A home, a family.

Everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

I look at my husband and sigh.

Happiness.

Yes, right here. A love that can’t be shaken, no matter what life throws at us.

And I know, without a doubt, that Ares has found it too.

Thank you so much for reading the story of Ares and Mia.

If you loved it, please leave a review, it would mean the world to me <3

Read next, Book 3 of the Raven Sons with the love story of Carter and a single mom…

Coming soon in Spring 2025 <3

@cassiekellergan.author

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue