Chapter 18
eighteen
-Ares-
I can’t say I wasn’t surprised to return home and find Brynn gone. I knew she had a wild side, but I never thought she’d abandon my bed after I fucked her senseless.
I also know something happened to her in the past, and last night was just the awakening of that trauma.
If she were any other living, breathing being on this planet, I’d probably ignore her for the rest of her life, or worse, kill her for disobeying my orders. But I needed answers before I made that call. And that somehow brought me to her apartment door.
I could’ve just called. I’m just not sure how I’d handle a no or whatever shitty answer she might’ve given me.
She looks insanely hot when she answers the door, too overdressed to stay in, and I have a feeling I’m about to interrupt her plans for the evening.
From now on, she needs to get it through her head that she has to run every single one of her plans by me first. That’s how things will work between us.
But first, I need to get to the bottom of whatever happened to her last night.
“Next time I’ll leave you a voicemail, since I’m starting to think you don’t know how to read,” I mutter, hoping she understands I’m not going to let this slide—no matter her excuse.
“Next time, maybe you don’t ask me to stay knowing you’ve got your blonde bitch coming over,” she snaps, arching a brow, looking at me like she might rip my head off any second. “Or were you hoping for a threesome? Because you should know that’s not my thing.”
I can barely hold back from laughing. I know I let her misread my relationship with my sister, Phro. But that’s just because Brynn had it coming.
I don’t have time for emotional management. I saw the fucking texts she sent to that bartender. She needs to understand that if she’s accepting to go out on a date with a fucking man she just met, then I can play the same card, but on a whole different level.
I’m not the kind to get played. She should feel lucky because I handled things so delicately, and didn’t make ground meat out of the guy—right in front of her. Though I can’t deny I’m still considering it.
Instead, I chose a different approach—one that made sure she knew exactly how it feels to see me with someone else.
Time to let her know just how big a fool she made of herself.
“Is that why you stole my sister's shoes?” I ask, waiting for her to put it together and fill in the blanks.
“Your sister... you let me believe—” she starts, but I cut her off before she can finish.
“You believed whatever you wanted—just made assumptions. Never asked.”
“You didn’t exactly rush to prove me wrong,” she grunts, but I can tell she just realized she fucked up.
“I proved you wrong last night. Several times. Need a reminder of that?” I ask, trying to keep my tone warmer. I’m looking for information, not a fight, though my attitude right now stands against my very nature.
The blush on her cheeks tells me she’s coming to terms with it.
I’ve never seen Brynn blush before. But it’s fucking adorable.
“Then maybe I wouldn’t have left. If you’d explained things to me,” she mutters.
“I didn’t think you were that jealous. Next time, just ask, you might be surprised,” I say, shooting her a glare that clearly states she shouldn’t try to pick a fight she has no chance of winning. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Where?” she asks, probably confused that I’m not giving her a harder time about this. Truth is, I’d love to pick a fight with her. To ruin her piece by piece, break her strength, and make it clear that she is mine.
But I don’t want to break her. I feel she’s already broken. I just need to help her back together—as mine.
I figured out a while ago that this isn’t something I can deny—this magnetic bond between us.
It’s much more than a simple feeling—more than just some whim of my cock.
It’s something I can’t deny… something I don’t want to deny. Because last night I felt more alive than in my entire life combined. And that says something.
For the first time, I feel like everything around me has a reason. Even if that reason might be to make her whole again.
“To dinner,” I answer, stepping out of her apartment and expecting her to follow. She’s a smart girl. She knows better than to cross me. Or maybe she doesn’t and wants to get herself punished. I’ll hold on to that thought.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” she mutters, stepping beside me.
“Of course you do. Japanese, Indian, French... maybe even pizza?” I present her only options. Because refusing me isn’t one.
“I’m not hungry,” she mutters, and I turn my head to look at her.
“I wasn’t asking. You need to eat. We both know there’s no real food in your fridge.
Hasn’t been for a while. So spare me the drama and pick something.
” She’s getting on my nerves, but I’m really trying to hold myself back.
Truth is, I had plans to cook for her tonight.
Surprise her when she woke up. But the surprise was on me.
She managed to ruin my plans by walking away.
Still, I’m trying to be as civil about this as possible, even though she’s one step away from making me bend her over my knee and spank some sense into her.
“Surprise me,” she shrugs, way more nervous than she wants to show. She’s acting like this is some regular dinner.
But it’s dinner with me—no matter what we’re having or where we’re having it. And she knows it.
Actually, I just got an idea.
She did say surprise her.
I text Manuel—the owner of a high-end restaurant a couple of streets away—with a specific list of hors d’oeuvres, the main course, and dessert. All to be delivered at my place.
Brynn gets in the car without much of a fight. But that doesn’t equal keeping her mouth shut for the whole ride. In fact, we don’t even make it past the block. “What is this, Ares?” She snaps, anger simmering in her voice. “I told you before, I’m not one of your playthings.”
“Who said I was playing?”
“You tried to play me last night,” she mutters, and I feel her gaze burning on the side of my face.
“If I wanted to play with you, it wouldn’t have lasted just a night. That was a lesson.” I turn to look at her. “You’re mine. Get that through that thick head of yours. Look at another man again, and he’s dead. It’s quite simple.”
“That proves my point,” she arches a brow like she’s finally won this round. “I’m something that caught your curiosity, something to satisfy a need. Maybe boredom. But that’s it. People like you don’t choose…”
“What? Someone like you?” I ask, my gaze burning into hers like I am ready to devour every inch of her. Body and soul.
I don’t know what the fuck happened to her, but I’m going to fix it—no matter what that is.
And if I can’t fix it, then I’ll have her broken.
I’ll have any piece of her I can get. “In a way, I wish you were right. But it’s not the case.
It’s not being one of my toys you should be afraid of.
It’s not being one of them.” I say, letting the silence settle between us.
I didn’t want her to let her in on what I’m feeling this soon, but I think she needs to gain a level of trust to overcome whatever it is that she’s fighting with.
Maybe even trust that I won’t hurt her.
I know she’s strong and that she puts on a brave facade. Like she can take on anything life throws at her. But I also know she needs to feel safe. Because I have a feeling she never has.
We spent the rest of the trip without saying another word. I park in front of my house, slide out of my driver's seat, then walk over to her side to open the door.
I want to get her to open up, and snapping at her won’t help, even if staying quiet defies my very existence. She’s the kind who fights fire with fire, and that would only get us both burning—just not the right kind of burn.
I don’t ever know how the fuck I ended up being the civil one.
It’s just something my instinct tells me to do, even though I’m having serious trouble keeping everything locked in and going against everything I stand for.
I don’t do gentle, I’m not the kind of man who listens or obeys in any way, but for some strange reason, I’d do it for her.
We end up on the back terrace, dim lights guiding our way until we reach the half-open part of the backyard, framed by the lit pool, a massive couch, a dining table, and a smaller coffee table a couple of feet away.
I lead her there, asking her to wait while I grab us a bottle of wine. The table’s already set; I asked the maid to handle it before she left. I gave everyone the night off, except for a few guards at the main gate, but they won’t dare come near the house.
There’s even an ice box with different refreshments, but I like to choose the wine myself. I didn’t know what was going on with Brynn, so I didn’t have anything specific prepared.
Now that I know what we’re having for dinner, I go down to the wine cellar and pick out a Domaine de la Romanée-Conti-Montrachet Grand Cru Chardonnay. Fancy name for a fancy wine with a fancy price tag. Perfect, for a night like this.
Just as I’m heading back to the yard, the doorbell rings. It’s our food. Right on cue.
I take the bags and then go to the table, where Brynn is waiting for me, casually scrolling through her phone, like she doesn’t do nervousness or emotions.
But the jokes on her because I can feel a person’s anxiety or fear. I pick up even the slightest trace of unease. And she’s bubbling beneath with all of the above.
She offers to help as I’m getting the food out of the bag, but I refuse. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.
It’s kind of a surprise for me too because I don’t really know what Manuel sent.
My first instinct was to go with oysters, but even though it sounds sexy in theory, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.
And I wasn’t sure Brynn was in the mood to slurp ocean slime tonight, no matter how fancy it looked on paper. I’ll just save it for another time.
I dig through the bags and pull out Salmon Crudo with passion fruit and chili oil, along with some mini lobster rolls with citrus aioli.
Even after centuries, I’d have no idea what the dishes are, but Manuel made sure to label them for me, so I could show off as I introduce whatever the hell I’m serving.
I like cooking from time to time, helps me take off the edge. I’m actually pretty good at it. That’s why I wanted to cook something for Brynn tonight, right before she went and fucked up my plans. Nothing this fancy, though, more like seafood pasta, or a perfect steak.
Despite my best efforts to impress her, Brynn doesn’t seem to be tempted by anything on the menu. She barely touches her food, not the hors d’oeuvres, not even the pan-seared sea bass that literally melts in your mouth.
The dinner conversation is almost nonexistent. I know exactly why—she’s still pissed off at me and trying to make a point.
We both know this is just a facade and I’m starting to think I played this from the wrong angle.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my patience really wearing thin.
Maybe someone could say no to the hors d’oeuvres, even the delicious seabass, but no one could refuse the lemon curd tart with toasted Italian meringue.
She glances at me, lower lip trembling, like she’s about to say something stupid. But I see her holding back, knowing there are limits she can’t cross. “I’ve told you before, I’m not hungry.”
“Do you like testing me, Brynn? Is that your thing? Push me until I break?” I say, straightening up, my eyes burning into her while her position is now somehow defensive.
“I tried to play the nice guy. But that only brings out the worst in you, doesn’t it?
” I really did try the nice guy route, figured it’d be the easy way to get information out of her.
It’s not working, though. And I know exactly why.
“You don’t like nice guys, do you?” I tilt my head, watching the way her fingers clench at the end of the chair.
“You don’t want someone to take the detour and charm his way under your skin.
” I lean in, just enough so she’d feel my words.
“You want someone to fuck you raw. The way you know only I can.”
Her eyes light up, like I just unlocked her darkest fantasies. The ones she’s afraid to admit. The ones she’s afraid to let surface.
I don’t even think she’s pissed about earlier.
I think she’s pissed that this version of me is harder to handle.
It involves much more than the cravings of the flesh.
And she’s not ready for that. Fucking is one thing.
Sitting down for dinner and spending time with the person you’re fucking—that’s a whole different level.
But for now, she wants things easy. So, I’ll start with that.
I push back from the table.
Dinner is officially over.