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.