Chapter 5 Katerina
KATERINA
It's a cool, crisp day when I step out of the private jet. Just like in Kalamata, there's a limo waiting to take us somewhere.
My eyes feel heavy. I spent most of the morning packing, only to be told by Ares that nothing was coming with me. He'd provide everything I needed—or would ever need—moving forward.
Honestly, they were just clothes and things my uncle gave me to keep me complacent, so it didn't bother me much. What did bother me was Ares.
The moment we were in the air, he tried to speak to me. Ask me questions. Poke. Prod into my life.
His smooth voice might work on other women, but I didn't have much to say to him. So I put on a sleeping mask and pushed my chair back. I wasn't even tired—I just kept it on. Now, I have red marks on either side of my face from the string, and my skin feels puffy.
Another thing I've noticed? It's cold everywhere we go.
The car. The jet. Always exactly seventy degrees.
A control thing. I'm learning Ares has a lot of those.
I slide into the limo and—yep—it's cold in here, too.
I cross my arms as we drive away, staring out the tinted window.
Oddly, I'm in that headspace where I feel like a million things are running through my mind but also nothing at all. Like I should be thinking about a lot of things, but nothing sticks.
"Are you cold?" Ares asks. His first question in hours.
I shake my head.
Even I know I look cold.
"I can give you my jacket if you'd like."
"I'm fine. Thanks."
We drive along what looks like the ocean, but I know it's Lake Michigan—its dark blue waters churning against the shoreline. People walk along the edge, wrapped in expensive coats, living their normal lives.
It's beautiful in a sharp, clean way. Nothing like Kalamata.
Ares hasn't spoken since I refused his jacket. He sits across from me, scrolling through his phone, occasionally making calls that are too quiet and quick for me to follow. His presence fills the space, even in silence.
The limo turns off the main road, into a residential area where the houses grow larger. Set back from the street, hidden behind iron gates and towering trees.
It looks very exclusive.
"We're almost there," Ares says, not looking up.
The car slows, approaching a gate at least twelve feet tall. Black iron with an ornate "K" worked into the design. Security cameras rotate to follow our approach, and two men step forward, their guns barely concealed beneath their jackets.
One barks something into his radio, and the gates swing open.
The driveway winds through perfectly manicured grounds. Everything looks like it was meant to be exactly where it is. Controlled.
And then I see the house.
No, not a house.
A fortress disguised as a mansion.
It rises three stories, sprawling outward in every direction. It blends classic Mediterranean style with modern touches. Large Greek columns paired with huge floor-to-ceiling windows, balconies edged with glass, and rows of expensive cars. It belongs in a magazine.
And I thought my uncle's house was ridiculous.
Guards patrol the perimeter, weapons visible, eyes scanning.
I've been under watch before. So I scan, too.
The house where I grew up could fit inside this place ten times over.
"This is yours?" I ask, the first question I've spoken since leaving Greece.
Ares looks pleased that I've finally broken my silence and smiles. "Ours now."
I don't acknowledge that part.
"It looks like the president would live here with all these men."
His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. "I prefer better security than the president."
Why?
The limo stops. Wide stone steps lead to double doors that look like they could withstand a battering ram.
Ares doesn't wait for the driver. He steps out and comes around to my side, opening the door himself.
I hesitate before taking his offered hand.
His fingers close around mine, warm despite the cold that follows him everywhere.
"Welcome home, Katerina."
Home.
Such a small word for something so significant.
I pull my hand away as soon as I'm standing.
The front doors open before we reach them. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair steps out, nodding respectfully to Ares. He looks a little afraid.
"Everything's prepared, sir."
"Good. Thank you, Derek." Ares places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward. "This is my wife, Katerina. She'll be giving you instructions regarding the household from now on."
Derek bows slightly to me. "Mrs. Kastaris. It's an honor."
The title makes my skin crawl. I'm not Mrs. anything. I'm still just Katerina, trapped in someone else's life.
"Thank you, but please, call me Katerina," I say, because whatever else I am, I'm not above the staff.
Derek hesitates. Looks at Ares. Then back at me. "Yes, ma'am. As you wish."
The foyer is massive. Marble floors. A sweeping staircase. And high above us, a chandelier as big as a car.
Just like outside, nothing looks out of place. It almost gives off gives off museum vibes. It's too clean. Too perfect.
Ares removes his suit jacket. Another man appears silently to take it.
"My brothers and sister are arriving in a few hours for dinner. Maybe you'd like to freshen up before they arrive?" Ares asks.
I didn't know they were coming. Or that I needed to freshen up.
"Okay."
"Good. I'll show you to our room."
Our room.
Another reminder that privacy isn't mine anymore.
I follow him up the staircase, my hand trailing along the smooth banister. The house is eerily quiet for its size. As a matter of fact, I can only hear our footsteps echoing off the marble floors.
"So, how many people work here?" I ask, filling the silence.
Ares answers immediately. "Twelve staff for the house itself. Security is separate—another thirty men rotating shifts." He glances back at me. "Plus those who don't stay on the property."
Jesus.
All these people. Just to maintain this place. To keep him safe.
The upper floor is lined with doors and large windows—all closed, all identical.
Ares leads me to the very end of the hall, where double doors open into what he'd probably call a suite.
I'd call it a penthouse without a kitchen, though maybe it's hiding somewhere.
A massive bed dominates one wall, dark sheets perfectly made.
Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the grounds.
Another door leads to what I assume is a bathroom, and yet another to what appears to be a large closet.
To my right is a sitting area with a fireplace, two couches, and a chair. A large table sits in the middle—
I pause.
Because sitting on that table is something unexpected.
A leather-bound sketchbook. Charcoals. Pencils. Paints.
Ares catches me noticing.
"I know you like drawing, so I arranged to have some things brought in for you."
I glance at him. "How did you know?"
He watches me closely. "Your uncle has a big mouth and likes to hear himself speak. A weakness I think."
Even if my uncle does run his mouth, I'm surprised he cared to listen to that fact about me.
"Interesting," I say, forcing my voice neutral. "So, your brothers and sister are coming for dinner?"
"Yes." Ares moves deeper into the room. "Theo, Dimitri, and Calli. They're eager to meet you."
"To meet the woman their brother was forced to marry?"
His eyes snap to mine. "You think I was the one who was forced?"
I shrug. "Weren't you?"
"I could have said no."
"Maybe," I say, tilting my head. "But you didn't."
His mouth tightens into a hard line. "Neither did you."
I hold his gaze. Steady. Unflinching.
"I didn't have a choice, Ares," I say. "You did."
I turn away, looking out the window to the guards below, watching their patrol patterns.
"The bathroom is through there," Ares says. "There are clothes in the closet that will fit you."
"Okay."
"Unless you would prefer to meet my family in what you wore on the plane?"
I glance down at my wrinkled blouse and pants. "Maybe I would."
He takes a step closer, and I can smell that expensive cologne he wears on his skin. "This isn't a game, Katerina."
"I never said it was."
I can see him starting to get a little frustrated—or maybe upset. I haven't learned him well enough to know yet.
"Well, they'll be here soon," I say, moving toward the closet. "I should get ready."
Ares takes a few more steps toward me and slides his hand up my back, gripping my neck from behind.
"My family is loyal to me," he says, voice low. "And now that you're part of this family, I expect—."
I meet his gaze. "If you want my loyalty, Ares, you'll have to earn it." I say cutting him off.
He studies me. His fingers flex slightly.
"I don't want anything right now expect your obedience."
I smile.
"Of course, husband."
After a few moments, he releases my neck and drags his fingertips down my right side. I shift away.
"Dinner is at eight. Wear what you want." He turns to leave, then pauses. "My family is looking forward to welcoming you into our world."
"Your world," I correct. "Not mine."
His dark eyes flash with something dangerous. "You're a Kastaris now, Katerina," he says, turning away. "Accept it, or don't. It makes no difference to me."