35. Lourdes
Lourdes
Ares spends the entire flight on the phone while I map out every angle to escape him once we land. I’m grateful for what he’s done, but Ares doesn’t need me. Sandrine does.
I shudder at the idea of telling him about her. He strikes me as a man who doesn’t care for weak women. Liabilities.
With David gone, I have to leave New York as soon as possible. I have enough money to place Sandrine somewhere for a few months. After that, I’ll figure something out.
We land on a private New York runway, and once the cabin is secure, Ares stands over me.
“Come.” He holds out his hand to help me out of my chair and then down the airstairs.
Compliance is my best strategy. If I look like a nervous animal, scratching at the cage, he’ll put more locks on it.
I learned that with David. If they think you won’t leave, they stop watching so closely.
Ares is too busy to watch me all the time. He’s on the cusp of a new dawn of power. Organized crime is on the verge of a reckoning. He doesn’t need a distraction like me. He’ll be relieved when I’m gone.
Not knowing what my life will look like now that we’re back in New York, I sit rigid beside him in his Bentley. My pulse skids erratically as we drive. The car slows, and his building on Fifth Avenue comes into view.
Glittering figures from every penthouse balcony are guns and men in armor. Ares has turned his home into a fortress for me. It’s no longer a jaw-dropping piece of New York City history.
This is now my prison.
We enter through the underground garage and ride up his private elevator.
My previous visit escapes me as far as details.
All I recall is Ares naked in his walk-in closet with me, running that soft rope across my skin, and the silent promises he made.
I’m so raw right now. It’s as if I’m seeing all this for the first time.
Ares escorts me through the marble foyer past men who nod without meeting my eyes. The rooms are dim, lit only by thin slices of moonlight.
Other men file past us with our bags, disappearing down the residence wing. I’d learned that the guards’ wing sits to the right of the front door.
With Ares’s hand firmly at the small of my back, we reach the double doors to his bedroom. He steps in with ease. Like it’s just another evening returning from the office.
“Ares, why are you bringing me into your bedroom?” I ask, my fingers tightening around my purse.
I’m ready to run, but I won’t make it very far tonight with little to no money on me. I have to transfer funds from that shell account to a local bank. Immediately.
He removes my jacket and wedges the strap of my purse from my fingers. “It’s now our bedroom.”
Shaking, I ask, “Why?”
His metal belt buckle clicks softly, and he slides it free. “Was I not clear?” he asks, his voice steady. “You are going to be my wife. Not a woman under contract that I plan to casually fuck. And as my wife, you will share my bedroom and my bed.”
I ignore the word wife as though it hasn’t lodged under my skin.
“Let me be very clear,” I begin, forcing my voice to remain even despite the way my pulse hammers off the health charts. “I never asked for any of this. Not clothes, not this penthouse. You removed my husband from the equation. I didn’t ask for that.”
“I didn’t shoot him,” he says calmly.
I tilt my head. “You didn’t pull the trigger, perhaps.”
His expression doesn’t change, which is answer enough.
“All I want is—” I stop myself before I say Sandrine’s name.
That Chicago is my endgame.
He stalks toward me, the belt still in his hand. The heat coming off him is stealing my breath. “What do you want, little storm?”
“To make my own decisions,” I say, meeting his gaze without flinching.
He considers that, and for a fleeting second, I think he might actually agree.
“Not while you’re being hunted.” He’s got my left wrist in his grasp in a matter of seconds. “This mark tells me the hunter is someone who thinks they also own you.”
“My tattoo?” I jerk away and rub the mark. “You know what it means?”
“I’ve known all along,” he says, his voice remarkably calm. “I asked you about it, and you lied to my face.”
“I didn’t know what it meant at the time,” I argue. “David told me just days before the attack. I swear.”
Ares just stares at me, considering my confession.
“Just let me go,” I keep talking. “Like you said, people are hunting me. Why do you want the hassle?”
“Because you’re mine,” he says, coiling the belt. “No one is taking what is mine.”
“I won’t trade one cage for another,” I say between clenched teeth.
No matter how much nicer this one is. No matter how much better of a man my captor is.
“Ares, please. I don’t want to live like this.”
He studies and speaks lower now, steadier. “And I don’t want a wife who pouts the minute I restrict her freedom after a credible threat.”
“I need space right now,” I say instead. “I’ll sleep in another room.”
“No.” His answer is so immediate, it steals the next thought from my head. “Nothing has changed since Santorini.”
“Santorini was—”
The leather straps of the belt are suddenly wound around my wrists in such a swift move that I’m bound before I can react. He tugs the ends, dragging me against his body. “Santorini was me showing you that you are mine.”
Arousal competes with my better senses. I just got out of a marriage that felt more like a prison.
“I don’t want to belong to anyone,” I say, pushing on his hold, still fighting my attraction.
His gaze hardens, not cruel but immovable. “I’m not just anyone.”
“And what if I refuse?”
Something dangerous flashes behind his eyes. “Then I will carry you into my bed every night until you stop pretending this is a negotiation.”
Heat rushes into my face at the idea of being carried off by him. “I don’t know how to fight you.”
And why am I fighting him?
“So don’t. You’re sleeping here,” he says, as if that’s the end of it. “You don’t have to like it. I won’t force myself on you. But you’re going to be my wife.”
“You’re impossible.” My pulse pounds, but I manage to break free.
“So I’ve been told.” He checks his watch and sighs. “I have to get dressed. Put on a damn suit.”
I follow him into his closet, still wanting to argue. Maybe it’s what I need to feel alive. I’m not choosing peace tonight!
Before I can argue more, his phone vibrates from atop the center dresser.
He glances at the screen and mutters something under his breath. “There’s an issue in the guards’ wing. Stay here.”
As if I have anywhere else to go.
The main door to the bedroom closes behind him, and all the energy deflates from the room.
I count to three and then step softly toward the door. I half expect to see a guard posted, but no, the wing is empty. I go back inside the bedroom. Ares moves at a brisk pace, but I must be faster. I grab my bag and fire up my laptop.
I find a local bank, open an account, and process a transfer from the shell account.
It takes several hair-raising minutes to set up and verify, and I’m sure I’ll be caught, but suddenly the screen refreshes, and the money is there and available.
I navigate to the product page and request a VISA debit card.
My legs nearly wobble when the confirmation instantly appears.
Approved.
Since I handle all of Ares’s mail, I have the card sent to the office.
I close my eyes briefly, steadying my breath. I hate this feeling of betrayal, but Sandrine comes first.
Hearing footsteps, I slam the laptop closed, slide it back into the bag, and kick it under the bed. As soon as that card gets delivered, I’ll leave. How? I have no idea. But I’ll figure it out.
The bedroom door opens without warning. I shoot my gaze up at Ares, and he studies me sitting on the bed. His bed.
He smiles like he’s won.
“Come with me, please.” He gestures toward the hallway.
I follow him through the wing’s long hallway, past the main living area, and into the foyer where his guards stand waiting.
The burliest of the men and the one who scares me the most is there. Wrath.
“Wrath, Envy, Pride, and Greed are now yours,” Ares says.
Each nods once, measured and silent.
I blink. “Mine?”
“I’m assigning four of my seven guards to you.”
“Four guards?” I stagger back a step and lower myself into the nearest chair before my knees crap out entirely. “For how long?”
“Until I eliminate the final threat,” he replies as though this is all completely normal. “Someone will try to take you again. That is not speculation.”
The room feels colder suddenly as I try to object, but I can’t speak.
“On New Year’s Eve, when I unveil the Aurelian, I will also announce our engagement,” he says, his gaze locked on mine. “You will be considered untouchable.”
Untouchable.
I don’t know what’s worse, being hunted or owned. Either way, none of this is what I want.
“Now, let me show you the rest of our home.” He gestures me toward the kitchen.
I have no choice but to follow. Despite the order and my captivity, I’m curious.
In the kitchen, stainless steel appliances gleam beneath overhead lights. The cook, a woman in a colorful apron, looks up from a simmering pot. Seeing Ares, she gives him her full attention.
“This is Lourdes,” Ares says. “She is to have whatever she wants.”
The cook nods immediately.
Ares pulls a small notepad and a pen from a counter drawer and presses them into my hand. “Write down your food and meal preferences,” he instructs. “If you crave something at two in the morning, it will appear.”
“That’s not necessary,” I squeak, then watch as he heads for the front door. “Where are you going?”
“This is not Santorini as you pointed out.” He slips on his suit jacket. “You know I work long and late hours. Each night, I go to Club Wicked. I’m heading there now. I’ll be home late.”
A moment of clarity hits me. “My apartment.”
“I will have Daria terminate your lease.”
“I need to go there. There are…things there. Things that mean something to me.”
Ares blinks, cheek twitching. The guy is juggling knives dealing with me. He snaps his fingers. “Pride. You are to retrieve whatever Lourdes needs from her apartment.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Give me your key?” Ares holds out his hand to me.
“I didn’t take it.” I shake my head. “We left so suddenly.”
Ares breathes steadily and looks back at Pride. “Stake out her apartment. We cleaned up those bodies. The apartment should be secure. There was a key over the door frame. Use it to get in. Or figure something else out.”
He bends down and kisses me on my forehead. Then he leaves without another word, oblivious to how I’m taking all of this. Lust, Gluttony, and Sloth fall into step behind him while I’m standing here dumbfounded with a piece of paper in my hand to make a grocery list.