Chapter 12 Katerina
KATERINA
Istir awake, arms spread wide, and I know that shouldn't be possible if someone had been sleeping beside me.
I open my eyes. The room is dark and silent.
There's no sound of breathing beside me, no rustling of sheets.
I look at Ares's side of the bed and see that his pillow sits perfectly plumped, not a wrinkle or dent to suggest he'd been here at all.
I sit up and drag my hands over my face, trying to shake off the fog.
I remember what Calli told me in the garden—about how Ares doesn't sleep, how he roams the house.
At the time, I'd filed that information away, thinking it was just one more thing about the man I'd been forced to marry. But now things are different.
After the kitchen incident, something shifted. The way he looked at me. The way he held me—gentle, careful. Not the cold, calculated man who married me for a mafia alliance.
And that almost-kiss.
I haven't been able to get it out of my head since it happened.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool floor.
I know I've made it seem like I shouldn't care where he is or what he's doing, and honestly, before almost burning his kitchen down, that'd be true, but curiosity—or maybe something deeper—tugs at me to go and find him now.
So, what does Ares Kastaris do when the rest of the world is asleep?
I grab a thin robe from the back of a chair, wrapping it around my tank top and pajama pants. The silk feels cool against my skin as I tie the belt at my waist.
Carefully, I open the bedroom door. The hallway stretches before me, dimly lit by small lights along the baseboards.
I walk down the hallway, my steps light and careful.
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going, but I think it's best to head toward the general direction of his office.
As I navigate the dark corridors, a strange realization hits me—I'm searching for him.
Voluntarily seeking out the man I was determined to keep at arm's length.
At the end of the main hallway, I see a thin line of light cutting through the darkness—a crack under a door. I approach slowly, listening for voices or movement. There's nothing but silence.
The door isn't completely closed. I push it open just enough to peer in, and that's when I see him.
Ares stands with his back to me, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the far wall of his office. He's still fully dressed in the clothes he wore earlier, though his jacket is gone and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms crossed over his chest.
He isn't working. There are no papers spread out on his desk, his computer is off. He's just standing there. Staring out over his estate from beyond the glass.
To his right, a bank of monitors displays security feeds—the front gate, the perimeter of the property, various hallways in the house. One screen shows what I recognize as the bedroom I just left. Another shows the garden. Several more display locations I don't recognize—warehouses, maybe? A dock?
I must have made some sound, because Ares suddenly speaks without turning around.
"I know you're there, Katerina."
My stomach drops. Caught like a child sneaking around after bedtime. I push the door open fully, stepping into the office.
"How did you know it was me?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
He turns his head slightly to the monitors. "The security feed. I watched you walk down the hall."
Of course. The man who sees everything.
"You weren't in bed," I say, stating the obvious.
He turns to face me, and I see a flicker of surprise cross his face, quickly replaced by something darker.
"Did you miss me in bed?"
The question catches me off guard, heat rising to my cheeks despite myself. "I just wondered where you were," I counter, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
I step closer, my heart rate kicking up. "You're not working." I nod toward the screens. "So what are you actually doing?"
His jaw tightens, a muscle flickering beneath his skin. For a moment, I think he might dismiss me, send me back to bed with a cold command.
But he doesn't.
"Sometimes I stand here and watch," he says finally, his voice oddly calm in the darkness. "Make sure everything is secure."
"For hours?" I ask, stepping even closer.
"However long it takes." His eyes meet mine, challenging me to understand—or to leave, I'm not sure which.
"Takes to do what?" I ask softly. "What are you looking for?"
There's a beat of silence, and I can almost see him debating whether to let me in or push me away. He goes to speak and then stops.
It's subtle—but it's there. That flicker of uncertainty in a man who never seems to hesitate.
"Threats," he says finally, stepping toward me, closing the distance until barely a breath separates us. "Especially now that you're here."
"How does me being here change things?"
"I'm still surprised you don't know how much of an impact you have on those around you." His gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes, making my pulse quicken.
I look away, ignoring his comment. It's easier to not think about myself, so my mind goes back to him. Night after night, standing here alone, scanning for danger while the world sleeps. What a burden. What a prison he's built for himself.
"Is this all because of what happened with your dad?" I ask gently.
"What did Calli tell you?"
"Just that you've been acting a little different." I shrug. "She's worried about you."
He looks away, back toward the windows. "She shouldn't be. I'm doing what needs to be done."
"By not sleeping? By wearing yourself down?" I step closer.
"Why do you care, Katerina?" he asks, his voice dangerous. "Are you really worried about your new husband?"
"I'm just curious, that's all."
He smirks as his eyes rake over my face. "Is that so?"
I roll my eyes, turning away before he can see too much. That's when I notice the chessboard on a side table by the window. The pieces are all set up—like someone started a game and never got to play.
I walk toward it.
"You play?" I ask, running my fingers along the black knight.
He nods once. "Yes. Do you?"
I pull out a chair and sit. "Never. So teach me."
He blinks. "Now?"
"If you're going to stay up all night, I'm staying up with you."
There's something in his expression—caught between amusement and disbelief.
"Katerina…"
I rest my chin on my hand. "What? Afraid I'll beat you?"
He smiles. "You don't even know how the pieces move."
"Then you'd better start teaching before I win on accident."
He watches me for a moment before walking over. He sits across from me, his forearms still bare, like he owns the board, the room—and maybe even me.
He picks up a pawn. "This one moves forward one space. Except on the first turn—it can move two."
I lean in slightly. "And that one?" I point to the knight.
He picks it up, turns it between his fingers. "Moves in an L shape. Unexpected. Most players underestimate it."
"Sounds like my kind of piece."
He meets my eyes. "Of course it is."
The silence that follows isn't awkward—it's intense.
He begins resetting the board.
I look at the security feeds again, watching the empty hallways, the quiet gardens. His men patrolling. Then my eyes catch on one particular screen—the bedroom I just left. The vacant bed.
I'm starting to understand.
Ares doesn't just control everything. He's terrified of losing it.
And somehow, that makes him seem like less of a monster and more human.
"You watch me sleep," I say. It's not a question.
He doesn't deny it.
There's something oddly intimate about the thought of him watching over me as I sleep. Not creepy, as it should be, but protective. It reminds me of how he acted during the fire—not angry, but concerned. Like he cared.
"When was the last time you actually slept?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I get enough."
"That's not what I asked."
He gives me a look that would intimidate most people, but I'm starting to see it as a mask. Finally, he sighs. "A few hours here and there."
"Ares, that's not sleeping. That's passing out from exhaustion."
"It's enough," he insists.
"Well, maybe you should start coming to bed earlier," I say.
He looks at me, almost confused. "Why?"
It's a fair question. Why do I care? I didn't ask for this marriage. I didn't ask to be part of his world. And yet here I am, in the middle of the night, trying to learn more about his life, concerned about whether the man who bought me with a business deal is taking care of himself.
"I don't know," I admit. And it's the truth. I don't know why my chest tightens at the thought of him standing here alone night after night. I don't know why I was relieved it was him who came to save me during my little kitchen accident. Or why I leaned toward him when he almost kissed me.
I don't know why I care.
But maybe it's because when he sees everything...
He sees me, too.
And somehow, this makes me want him to feel seen back.