48. Ares
Ares
The stretch between Christmas and New Year’s is usually a quiet time. Not this year.
While I was waiting to see if David Sinclair’s death would trigger a response from his ringleader boss Elias Black, it turned out Rhys Quinlan was dating Black’s daughter, and he didn’t even know it.
Black might have handled dozens of contract killers with an iron fist, but pissing off one Irish assassin by imprisoning and drugging his daughter got Black killed.
In the wake of that catastrophe, David’s mysterious death meant nothing. No one from the Black Group cared about David Sinclair. He’s been officially declared dead. No investigation. The man had nothing.
Except Lourdes.
Now she’s mine.
Only she’s barely speaking to me.
We drive together to Wall Street every day. She goes to her office and closes the door. Daria says she’s performing her new duties very well. She’s a natural.
On the drive home, I ask her about her day, and she knows better than to completely ignore me. But she answers me like I’m a nosy roommate.
At night, she gets into our bed, turns her back, and goes to sleep. She hasn’t kissed me in seven days, and I’m losing my mind.
I had to hide the hurt when she slipped out early on Christmas morning to be with her sister. I’d planned to go with her, but her leaving without me told me she didn’t want me there.
I stared at the wrapped boxes I had in my closet.
Gifts I bought for her myself that she couldn’t care less about.
I felt oddly bristled that there were no gifts left for me.
Having to attend Christmas evening invitations to strategic business allies alone cut deep, and I nearly took off Atlas’s head from his shoulders a few times with his irritating questions.
The opening night for the Aurelian can’t get here fast enough.
On New Year’s Eve, Lourdes emerges from our bedroom in a dress that takes my breath away.
It’s maroon silk that makes her pale skin look luminous.
It shows off enough cleavage to make men jealous but not enough for me to gouge out anyone’s eyes.
Her blonde hair is styled in waves, with one side pinned up with that old butterfly clip.
I used one of the spare bedrooms to get dressed.
When she sees me in my tux, she stops, and her jaw drops a little.
I’m relieved she at least still finds me attractive.
Somewhere, I miscalculated everything about this woman.
I want this night to end and the new year to begin with us starting over somehow.
When she’s close, I bend to kiss her cheek. Relieved she lets me, I rasp, “You look stunning.”
“Thank you,” she says, blushing. “You, too.”
“I need you to wear this.” I hold out the twelve-carat diamond ring I bought her weeks ago.
A ring she’s never worn.
She just blinks down at it and then looks up at me. “Is that all you have to say about the ring? I need to wear it?”
“Yes. We’re getting married. You agreed.”
She never signed my marriage contract, but that got lost in the events of her leaving me shortly after. With her willing return, I hadn’t felt the need to rush the formalities.
I see her jaw tightening, though. Her throat working like she’s ready to scream at me for something, and I have no idea what I keep doing wrong.
Shaking her head, she grabs the ring without even admiring it and jams it on her finger.
“I’m ready,” she says, slipping a sparkly evening bag under her arm.
Watching her walk toward the penthouse’s front door, I break. “What will it take, Lourdes?”
She stops, her shoulders up around her ears. “Take for what?”
“Turn around.”
She does, and she looks as lost as I feel.
“For you not to hate me.”
Sighing, she relaxes. “I don’t hate you, Ares.
You’ve done so much for me. But every move has served a purpose in your quest for power.
Including this.” She holds up her hand. “An engagement ring I was told to put on. I didn’t even get an actual proposal.
I wasn’t even asked. I was told I have to marry you. ”
The proposal. Oh, fuck.
“I will try my best to make that up to you.” To get down on one knee now is pointless. “You may think that ring is just some cold gesture. But I have something else for you. Something that might mean more than the ring. To show you how I feel about you.”
“A car, I can’t drive?” She stands there with her hip jutted out.
From my tux jacket, I take out a flat velvet box. Knowing I need to do the heavy lifting here, I walk up to her and gently take the old butterfly clip from her hair.
“You are done with cheap jewelry.” I toss the old one in a nearby waste can and then remove a new diamond and garnet butterfly clip from the box. It shines in the overhead lights.
She softens, taking the clip from me. “Where did you get this?”
“I had it made.”
She blinks up at me. “Ares… Thank you.”
“Can I put it on you?” I realize I should have also done that with the ring.
Swallowing, she nods.
I hold back a soft bundle of silky perfumed hair and place the clip the same way she styled the other one. I kiss her neck and love how she smells.
Unable to not touch her any longer, I crash my mouth to hers and want to weep when she lets me kiss her. It’s so rough and raw that when I pull away, her red lipstick looks like it was put on with a paintbrush.
“I’m sorry, I messed this up.” I use my handkerchief from my pocket to wipe the smudged makeup away. “You don’t need lipstick. Your mouth is already perfect.”
“Ares…”
“Do you want a big wedding? I’ll make it a fucking show. I’ll buy you a two-million-dollar dress made of rare silk and diamonds with a two-mile train and—”
“No. I don’t want that.” She sniffs. “I never wanted that.”
Because she’s selfless and pure.
“Then we’ll do something quiet. Tomorrow, if you want.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get through tonight.”