Page 14 of Beneath Scarred Vows
Home.
Such a small word for something so significant.
I pull my hand away as soon as I'm standing.
The front doors open before we reach them. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair steps out, nodding respectfully to Ares. He looks a little afraid.
"Everything's prepared, sir."
"Good. Thank you, Derek." Ares places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward. "This is my wife, Katerina. She'llbe giving you instructions regarding the household from now on."
Derek bows slightly to me. "Mrs. Kastaris. It's an honor."
The title makes my skin crawl. I'm not Mrs. anything. I'm still just Katerina, trapped in someone else's life.
"Thank you, but please, call me Katerina," I say, because whatever else I am, I'm not above the staff.
Derek hesitates. Looks at Ares. Then back at me. "Yes, ma'am. As you wish."
The foyer is massive. Marble floors. A sweeping staircase. And high above us, a chandelier as big as a car.
Just like outside, nothing looks out of place. It almost gives off gives off museum vibes. It's too clean. Too perfect.
Ares removes his suit jacket. Another man appears silently to take it.
"My brothers and sister are arriving in a few hours for dinner. Maybe you'd like to freshen up before they arrive?" Ares asks.
I didn't know they were coming. Or that I needed to freshen up.
"Okay."
"Good. I'll show you to our room."
Our room.
Another reminder that privacy isn't mine anymore.
I follow him up the staircase, my hand trailing along the smooth banister. The house is eerily quiet for its size. As a matter of fact, I can only hear our footsteps echoing off the marble floors.
"So, how many people work here?" I ask, filling the silence.
Ares answers immediately. "Twelve staff for the house itself. Security is separate—another thirty men rotating shifts." He glances back at me. "Plus those who don't stay on the property."
Jesus.
All these people. Just to maintain this place. To keep him safe.
The upper floor is lined with doors and large windows—all closed, all identical.
Ares leads me to the very end of the hall, where double doors open into what he'd probably call a suite.
I'd call it a penthouse without a kitchen, though maybe it's hiding somewhere.
A massive bed dominates one wall, dark sheets perfectly made. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the grounds. Another door leads to what I assume is a bathroom, and yet another to what appears to be a large closet. To my right is a sitting area with a fireplace, two couches, and a chair. A large table sits in the middle?—
I pause.
Because sitting on that table is something unexpected.
