22. Lourdes
Lourdes
Ares descends the airstairs first. I watch him as he pauses at the bottom, scanning the horizon. After a moment, he looks back up at me and extends his hand.
Not to steady me, it’s only four short steps. He’s claiming me the minute I step foot on this sun-drenched island.
I take his hand with a warm smile as the Santorini air fills my lungs. My body immediately knows this isn’t the same air as in New York. Even on a clear day.
Greek mythology might not be such a myth. This place created Gods. Of course, they need better air and water.
The sun warms my skin, and a light sea breeze carries something floral smelling I can’t place. Looking up, I feel like I can touch the white clouds against the unapologetically blue sky. It’s so vivid and so unreal at the same time.
Still holding my hand, Ares leads me to a waiting car.
“Is your home nearby?” I ask, climbing into the open-air Land Cruiser
With a look of surprise, he answers, “No. In case of an attack, we need time to fortify.”
An attack? I need time to absorb that. I watch Ares get in beside me. The driver takes off, no words between him and Ares.
The road winds along narrow cliffs. The Land Cruiser doesn’t absorb bumps in the cobblestone road or block the wind from ruining what I tried to do with my hair on the plane.
I don’t dare look down. Ares doesn’t look stressed, so I keep my gaze on the picturesque white stone houses with red clay roofs clinging to the landscape in irregular patterns as if they sprouted from the land like weeds.
Ares stays silent for the entire ride, though one warm palm rests loosely over mine on the seat between us. His fingers don’t wrap around mine. Yet the hold feels possessive.
We reach an estate carved into the cliffside with layered terraces that descend toward the water on one side.
I’m so punch drunk from the beauty and fragrant air that I can barely see it through the tears in my eyes.
It’s sprawling and expansive without being ostentatious.
It radiates deadly power without flaunting it.
The land is beautiful, and it only feels foreboding when the Land Cruiser stops in front of a tall, gunmetal gray iron gate. The minute we reach the driveway apron, it opens.
As we pull up, three people wait near the entrance of the mansion. An older woman with silver threaded through dark hair and kind eyes stands with two men behind her.
Ares helps me out of the car and takes my hand.
“Kalosorisma, kyria,” the woman says with a bow to her head.
“She is welcoming you as the lady of the house,” Ares whispers.
“Hello,” I say with a weak smile, embarrassed, wishing I knew how to say hello back in Greek.
“Elani manages the house for me,” Ares says proudly.
She and Daria are probably the only human beings on this planet that he actually needs. What a responsibility.
Ares speaks to his staff in Greek. I assume he’s delivering further instructions and details of our visit. The two men behind Elani move into action as Ares steers me up a set of three wide steps and opens the front door himself.
Thanks to television and social media, I’ve seen enough luxury estates that the sheer opulence doesn’t shock me. But in person it’s pretty impressive.
Ares watches me as I take it in. Everything here is beautiful. But none of it matters. I won’t be here long. Sandrine needs me.
Though it’s very warm outside, the temperature inside the house is comfortably pleasant thanks to marble floors and high ceilings lined with fans. All the arched windows are open, framing the Aegean Sea. The view is unreal.
“This is the main salon,” he says about what I would consider a living room.
We keep walking and stop at one of the many terraces that overlook fragrant rose bushes. A table has already been set beneath an umbrella for shade against the strong sun.
“You’ll eat a proper meal.” Ares gestures for me to sit. “Then you’ll rest.”
“There you go, ordering me around again,” I say, gripping the table as I take a seat.
Ares sits next to me and doesn’t comment on my gripe.
I sharpen my gaze on the horizon and see several men dressed in green camo with rifles on the perimeter marching back and forth on top of a retaining wall.
Without addressing the small army he has, Ares pours chilled wine. “This is from a local vineyard I invested in. I need to pay them a visit while I’m here.”
“You own a vineyard?” I ask.
Ares is using his time here wisely. This trip wasn’t on his schedule. “Yes. And you will join me on my visit.”
I narrow my eyes. “Look, if you want to show me off as—”
One hand winds around my throat. His thumb brushes my jaw, keeping the hold sensual.
“You are not a trophy. Not to me. I command respect and awe for myself, my own achievements, not who I lure into my bed. I always want you in the same room because…” He stops.
“Because my heart doesn’t beat the same when you’re not with me. ”
Throat dry, I take that in. But once he gets his fill of me, then he’ll let me go. Like Eden said.
I nod, accepting his explanation. And it’s a vineyard. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it once I get my bearings and sanity in check.
Elani appears with two dishes of grilled fish over a bed of crisp greens, olives, and freshly baked bread.
“The weather for the next few days will be warm, but there’s a storm expected later in the week.” Ares goes on to fill me in with more facts about Santorini.
When he pauses, I ask, “Is there any place in the house or on the grounds you don’t want me to go?”
He cocks his head at my question. “If you come across a locked door, it’s closed off for a reason. Mostly your protection.”
“I don’t know how to handle a gun or a knife.”
“I wasn’t talking about weapons.”
Right. Secrets.
We eat more before speaking again.
“It feels like New York doesn’t even exist,” I say to break the silence. “It feels so far away. I can see why you come here to get away from it all.”
“Only, it all comes with me,” he responds, a smile softening the complaint.
“Right, the phone calls.”
“In New York, I don’t take time for any pleasures.” He shifts in his seat, looking tense. “Not really. Not much lately.”
“Because of me?” I sip a glass of water from a clear jug that tastes so fresh, it’s hard to believe I’m still on planet Earth.
“Yes.” He watches for my reaction. “I’m so hoping you are worth the wait.”
After we finish eating, he leads me around the kitchen to a narrow staircase leading to the second floor, its walls made of stone.
“After you,” Ares says, signaling for me to walk ahead.
I climb, and at the top of the stairs, a bedroom opens up. There’s no hallway, no door, but it’s not guarded or locked down.
White sheets are pulled tight across a wide bed. It’s so enormous and inviting. It looks larger than a king-size.
The sumptuous bed is surrounded by pale gray wood furniture. Metal louvre doors open to a private balcony overlooking the sea. Getting my bearings, I note that we are now on the other side of the house.
A pile of women’s clothing sits on a raw silk chaise in the corner of the room. Dresses in neutral silks. Tailored linen trousers. Soft flowing blouses. Shoeboxes with understated heels. Classy and conservative. Just as he promised.
Ares catches my gaze. “There should be more than enough clothes for you. If not, or if anything is not to your liking…”
“Your house manager will buy me others?”
Ares strokes a hand under my chin. “No. I will.”
That gives me chills.
With a shallow breath, I ask, “Where is my suitcase?”
“It will be brought up.” Ares moves closer again, slow and deliberate. “If there’s anything else in New York that holds value to you, tell me right now. It will be brought here, too.”
My mind flashes again to the boxes in my closet with my father’s things. David is still MIA at the moment. I glance out the window. There’s zero chance he’ll show up here.
I want my father’s boxes secured, but I don’t want to be lugging them around the world. I have to trust they’ll still be in the apartment when I get home.
Home…
Can I still call a place where Ares killed men who wanted to take me to some overlord in Westchester home?
“I need nothing else right now,” I say, growing confident. “I trust you’ll take good care of me.”
“Completely,” he says and cradles my face. “And in every way you’ll allow me. I’ve waited patiently for this. Like a gentleman. When you give me permission to touch you, it won’t be very gentlemanly.”
The confession hums in the air between us. But his sharp tone doesn’t sound romantic. He’s territorial. He will never be a lovesick puppy. He’s a guard dog staking claim to a bone.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be afraid of what I want to do to your body.” His grip tightens. “Then you will be sorry for what you can unleash in me.”
The only terrifying part is that I’ve wanted him all this time, too. It wasn’t my vows that kept the fantasies away. It was my focus on Sandrine. And that a man like Ares at forty-two who hasn’t settled down by now, probably never will.
“And if I resist? Even to…tease you?” I say, pulling back.
His eyes darken with feral lust. “You may tease me all you want, but understand, I enjoy dispensing discipline.”
Heat climbs up my spine before I can stop it. “With the rope?”
He grins, showing teeth. “You’re not ready for that.”
A beat passes between us, and I don’t look away.
“In time, you will be ready, and when you are, I will make the discipline satisfactory,” he promises, stroking my cheek. “Careful what boundaries you push. There is only so much I’ll take before I break.”
I have to sit down on the chaise. “What happens when we go back to New York?”
“I’m afraid the life you were living in New York is over.”
I just blink and nod. He’s right. And it’s a good thing.
This is a reset.
I look around the room again. The balcony. The view. The bed.
Next to the chaise is a glossy white shopping bag. I peek inside. “Bras and panties. I’m flattered you’ll let me wear undergarments.”
“I’m not an animal who needs visual stimulation in the form of a half-dressed woman,” he responds sharply.
“Well put,” I say, being as agreeable as I can. “You prefer your women to look understated.”
“I prefer elegance,” he corrects.
“Noted.”
He reaches for my chin again. “And there is no women. I don’t bring women here. Ever.”
After David’s indifference, Ares’s attention feels like stepping into sunlight.
Smiling, I compliment, “For your first-time entertaining a woman here, you get an A+.”
“Hold that thought,” he says, his voice lowering.
“For what?” I brace for what he’ll say.
Ares releases my chin and steps past me. My eyes follow him to the bed.
Uh-oh…
“You will sleep here,” he says like it’s not up for discussion. “With me.”
“With you.”
“I do not share my bed lightly,” he says, meeting my gaze. “And I do not give it up.”
My pulse quickens. For all he’s done for me, it doesn’t feel right to argue. But I do anyway. “What if I don’t feel comfortable with that?”
“I won’t touch you without your consent,” he continues without arrogance, even though it’s well deserved. “But you will sleep here. That is final.”
The confidence should unsettle me. Instead, it steadies the nerves still raging inside me. I can tolerate this. For now. This is temporary.
I’m not afraid to let him take me. I’m not a prude. I’m afraid he’ll ruin me for another man. Not just the sex. The over-the-top protectiveness, the lavish gifts, the thoughtfulness, and respect can never be topped by an ordinary man in the future.
Ares Zervas is not an ordinary man, I remind myself.
And I hate how much I want him.
When I don’t argue any further, Ares moves back toward me. Slowly. Predator-like. “May I kiss you?”
Heart pounding, I nod. “I can use some…warmth.”
“You need heat.” He fists my hair to keep me in place and crushes his mouth to mine.
The kiss is feral and unrelenting. I’m terrified of how intense he is.
He holds me against him as he drinks me in. Groans of pleasure vibrate out of his throat with each breath.
Holy crap.
This is the most erotic kiss I’ve ever had in my life. I’m left breathless and weak.
Ares breaks the kiss and backs away, his chest heaving, his length visibly throbbing. “I need to stop, or you’re going to get fucked right here on my floor.”
The stark and vivid warning has me backing away. Not because I don’t want to get fucked on the floor. It’s too soon.
“I need to shower.” He smiles and drops his linen pants, a pair of black briefs going with it.
Seeing his massive cock again makes me shiver like the first time. This time it springs wetness between my thighs.
“Enjoy your shower, Ares,” I say, retreating.
“I will.” He turns, and the view of his ass in those briefs is almost as good as the front.
Almost…
My throat tightens at how he’ll ruin me with that python between his legs.
And then he’ll move on.