To feel loved. Unconditionally.
I’ll never get to experience it, but it must be nice.
“Where’s Kia?” I ask them, shoving away their remarks. Stepping back, my sister approaches me, and I sigh of relief knowing she hasn’t heard a word from my discussion with my parents. She gives me a sympathetic look, squeezing my hand before letting go.
“It’ll be okay. I can feel it. And if he sucks, then you’ll come back home, alright?” Her brown, honey eyes are full of love. I plaster on a fake smile for her, because she has no idea that what she calls home has never been a refuge to me.
“Thanks, Kia. Call you tomorrow. We still have to find you the right dress.” I switch the topic to her outfit for the Angel and Snowflakes ball at her high school.
“Don’t tell me, it’s in one month. I’m stressing out, dude.” She dramatically takes her face in her palms.
“Chill, I have a few ideas. I'll tell you tomorrow, okay?” I hug her tight because she’s my favorite person in the whole world. “Gonna miss you so much.”
“Love you, sis,” she whispers, only for me to hear.
“Love you, Kia,” I whisper back.
I watch them go until the door closes, and I turn to the stairs, the music still blasting behind me with a dozen people on the dancefloor. Mostly from Ares's club.
Taking a deep breath, I head upstairs, every step a reminder of the new reality I’ve been thrust into. My heels click against the polished wood, the sound echoing in the silence. As I reach his bedroom, well,ourbedroom, I pause for a moment, composing myself before opening the door.
Stay strong, hold your ground, and don’t let him walk all over you. Don't let this new home be like the one you had.
Turning the doorknob, I silently pray for him to already be sleeping so we don’t have to talk or pretend this is normal. But I see his muscular body sitting on the bed, eyes locked with mine right as I enter the dark room. He kept a light on his bedside table, making the room dim with a soft glow. He’s only wearing gray sweatpants. His chest is bare, filled with tattoos of skulls, flames, and words I can’t read from here. There’s not a single inch of his chest and arms that doesn’t have ink on it.
He looks…good. Really good.
“Right on time.” His raspy voice fills the room. I don’t answer him. I’m still shaken by the words of my parents downstairs. Walking toward the bed, I rest a hand on my hip, watching him feast on the tight dress hugging me in all the right places.
“Why did you marry me?” I have to know, and I won't beat around the bush. He could have asked for money, men, and weapons.
Why me?
“Get in bed and sleep. I’m tired and I got shit to do in the morning,” he grunts.
“Why. Did. You. Marry. Me?” I say louder, my tone more confident.
“It’s good for business, that’s why,” he mutters before lying on the bed, his forearm behind his short chocolate hair.
I wonder how it would feel to run my fingers through them.
I shake my head. Ares’s got twice the number of cities my father has. His club is more powerful and influential than our family. It just doesn’t make sense. But it’s late and I’m exhausted. So I enter the bathroom, already starting to relax with the marble and my favorite skincare all around me.
My plan is simple. I’m going to pretend to fall asleep while keeping my body as far away as possible. Once I’m sure he’s sleeping, I’ll sneak out of the room and spend the night by myself in one of the guest bedrooms on the same floor. He threatened to come and get me during the night, but I bet he was bluffing. I don’t have the energy to argue now, so I’ll just pretend to fall asleep next to him.
After finishing up my twelve-step ritual, I take a nice long shower and then put on my comfiest neon green PJs. My favorites. They even have feathers at the end of the sleeves. Adorable.
“What the fuck is this?” Ares growls at me when I open the bathroom door.
“My PJs, duh.” I circle the bed and sneak in as far from him as possible.
“Can’t you wear normal stuff?” he asks, furrowing his brows.
“This is normal stuff,” I fire back.
We both lie there in silence for a few moments. I wonder if he’s going to call out the elephant in the room. I know I definitely won’t be the one bringing that up. Not that I’m afraid of him trying something without my consent, but it’d be great to make things clear.
“Are we doing this?” he asks, looking at me.
