Page 22 of His Forgotten Wife
He had no doubt that she had made it as outrageous as possible just to deter him. But after nine years together, sheshould know him better. Yes, there were things on the list that he absolutely wasn’t into, but if it truly brought her happiness, he would try them.
Dahlia wasn’t the only one who had let life pass her by.
He didn’t know if it was the pain in his hip, like a hot flame licking at him at all hours, or the painful headaches, or the realization for the first time ever that his life was out of his control, but he wanted to more than just function optimally in his own bubble.
Sure, his brain always needed the stimulus of new innovation but he had amassed enough wealth to maintain a luxury lifestyle if he didn’t work another day in his life.
He wanted to have new experiences. And he wanted to have them with Dahlia. And he…
The sudden, deafening silence around him finally registered. It was as if someone had muted a loud TV show.
Ares looked up to find his family—including Sergio and Stefano—staring at him as if he’d grown two horns in the blink of an eye. His mother and father looked dazed, as if they’d been frozen in time.
“What?” he barked, his skin crawling at their focused attention on him.
“We’ve never seen you laugh like that,” Mama said, tears in her eyes. “Even as a boy, you were so…serious.”
Annoyance prickled through him. But if she opened the door to his childhood, then he would take it. “I didn’t have much chance to laugh like that growing up. And even if I did, you were far too preoccupied with other stuff to notice.”
Mama flinched while Papa bit his name through pursed lips like a curse.
“And now? What made you laugh like that?” Mama persisted in a falsely cheerful tone that no one bought.
Her wobbling chin made Ares feel like a monster. He knew she meant well but she and her close-to-surface emotions were beginning to scrape at him like fingernails on chalkboard. As if her misery and grief and guilt were all his burdens that she wanted him to alleviate right now.
He sighed, rubbed his hip, then swept his hand through his hair. One look at the list again and his dark mood lifted like fog under the morning sun. “My fiancée and her demands, that’s what made me laugh.”
“Her demands,” Mama said, somehow managing to sound derisive.
For a man who never got nuance, it was clear what conclusions she was jumping to in that moment.
“Yes, Mama. It’s the first time Dahlia has told me what she wants. And I intend to give in to each and every wish of hers,” Ares said, just as the loud whir of a motorboat drowned out the silence.
He shot to his feet, ready to take on his dear assistant and all her demands.
It took Dahlia ten seconds to realize that she had cut off her nose to spite her face by dressing like she had. The metal railing was cool against her fingers as she climbed the short, retractable ladder. Her heart was loud in her chest at the thought of a hundred pairs of eyes following her every step. Grasping the smooth teak deck, she hoisted herself up.
For a few moments, the lavish extravagance of the yacht made her forget her own embarrassment. The main deck gleamed, with its polished teakwood glinting in the September sun, reflecting ripples of sunlight that danced across the sea’s sapphire surface.
On the upper deck, elegant, ivory-hued loungers sat with precision, framing a crystal-clear pool that mirrored the Aegean’s deep blue. Beyond the smooth, sculpted rails, the vast expanse of water stretched out endlessly. Amidst it, guests flitted about, dressed in pastel linen dresses that made them look like pretty mannequins at designer boutiques.
Dolly had no doubt that she stood out like a sore thumb, with every square inch of her skin exposed by the crop top and shorts.
God, she was stupid. The last thing she wanted was more attention from these people. And yet, that was exactly what her stunt had achieved. At least, the gauzy cover-up she had borrowed from Arabella lent her some cover and sophistication.
She was nothing but a guest and these people and their snooty opinions didn’t matter to her, she reminded herself when Ares reached her.
His gray gaze turned molten, like the surface of the ocean during a storm, as it swept over her. A soft grin kicked up one corner of his mouth, and he leaned forward and pressed his cheek to hers in a greeting. For the audience, she assumed, but still, the patch of skin that touched his seared. As if he’d stamped her as his possession.
Was it possible that his tendency for hyper fixation had rubbed off on her?
The pine and mountain scent of his lingered on her as he pulled back, loosely laced their arms together. As if she were a puppet whose strings were in his capable hands, Dolly let him sweep her along.
She had never been gladder for the broad swathe of his shoulders. Seeing him like this, so magnetically alive, brought her earlier realization simmering back to the surface.
She desperately wanted to apologize for messing up, for not anticipating that he might not respond well to her sudden, foolish admission. After all, she knew better than anyone thatAres needed to feel in control at all times, in all situations. Not just in his physical space, but with his emotions too. He was the same man who hadn’t returned home in nine years because it messed with his head, even as he funneled millions into the family business.
She wasn’t sure if she could ever forget the crushing set-down he’d given her that day—or the hopelessness she’d felt in its aftermath—but she was beginning to understand why he had done it. But telling him that she understood meant telling him what had actually transpired, beginning with their marriage contract. And Dolly wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready to bring that up, to render herself that vulnerable to him ever again.
