“You will, Brynn, trust me. It’s time to stop playing pretend and see the real Ares.” If she wants it rough, she chose the wrong person to play with.
I grab her wrist, then drag her through the door behind her and into my bedroom. I’m done waiting for answers or playing the nice guy by letting her stay downstairs. I don’t care if she’s not fully healed yet. She seemed healed enough last night.
Still holding onto her wrist, I reach into a small cabinetfrom where I pull out a pair of handcuffs, which I use to cuff her to the heavy antique radiator right beside the window.
She doesn’t really try to fight me, more like muttering something under her breath as I push an armchair next to her, so she won’t have to sit on the floor until I get back.
I don’t even know why I did that. I blame it on her wounded leg. But the thought of seeing her suffer unnecessarily doesn’t sit well with me, even when she’s being punished.
“You’re not seriously doing this,” she pouts, dropping into the armchair.
“You said it yourself, you’ll run away first chance you get.” I feel like a cop right now—anything you say can and will be used against you.
“I’m not really capable ofrunningaway right now,” she rolls her eyes like this isn't a real possibility.
But I know Brynn, and when she sets her mind on something, there’s no stopping her. That’s what really worries me. That at one point, I won’t be able to hold her back.
“I’m not gonna take your word for it. Capable or not, you’re sitting in that chair. I have a meeting in about an hour that I can’t miss,” I say, looking at my watch and realizing I have less than fifteen minutes to get out of the house before I lose the auction for a new shopping center I've set my sights on.
I rush to the bathroom, picking up my clothes along the way to take a quick shower and then get dressed.
But just as I’m leaving the bathroom and about to walk out the bedroom door, I hear my name. I’m not insane. I haven’t forgotten about Brynn. I was just trying to ignore her for now.
I don’t really answer her, but I turn my head to glance at her. She’s sitting in the armchair, much calmer than before. Truth be told, I’m surprised she doesn’t try to fight this. Though, I won’t take that for granted for too long.
“Can I have some water before you go?” she asks, her voice strained, making me realize I haven’t thought about how long it’ll take me to finish everything on my agenda today. I can go without food or water, or a piss, for much longer periods of time than humans.
Still, I’m late, and I don’t have time to deal with all of this right now. I just grab my water bottle—it’s almost full anyway—and walk over to her. “Here,” I open the bottle for her. “I’ll have Mrs. Holloway check on you in a few hours. DON’T give her trouble.” I warn her, knowing what she’s truly capable of.
To my surprise, she seems a lot more docile right now. Like the gravity of her mistake has finally sunk in.
She grabs the bottle, but doesn’t drink yet. Her gaze seems unfocused, her voice trembling. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to let things come to this…” her voice falters. “I wish things were different… wish we’d met under different circumstances.”
“Well, it’s too late to change anything now,” I snarl, unimpressed by her confession. Or maybe I am impressed a little… but fuck if I’ll ever let her know.
I go about my day, trying not to think about what the fuck I’m gonna do when I get home. I called Mrs. Holloway earlier to drop by and bring Brynn some food, take her cuffs off for a few minutes so she could use the bathroom, and also alerted one of my guards to stand by if my captive tries anything.
Surprisingly, she didn’t. Mrs. Holloway just texted me that Brynn asked to take a shower, then quietly returned to her temporary prison. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but it’s not in her nature to act so demure.
I guess I’ll see when I get home. That’s not gonna be anytime soon because my day just got a lot longer with a shipment that went wrong, one of my men got into a fight, and he’s in jail,anda plumber messed up the pipes at one of my new bars. Now Ieither tear apart a ten-thousand-dollar floor or have an architect redesign the whole fucking thing.
It’s almost 9 PM when I’m done with everything. It’s usually an early hour for me to go home, but it’s been a long day, and I have a feeling things are not going to be easy once I get there.
I stop and pick up some sushi. At this point, I know she deserves dog food, but depriving people of food is my way of torturing prisoners, not the woman I… I what? I don’t even know at this point. The woman I want to kill, the woman I’m fucking, or the woman I… still have feelings for.
Great! Now I’m even more pissed off at myself.
I return home, convinced I won’t give in to temptation again. She has to learn her lesson, even if it will take an eternity for her to do so. But like everything in my life lately, things are about to go sideways…
nine
-Ares-
I stop in the kitchen to drop the takeout, then go straight to the bedroom. Deep down, I’m bracing for disaster, no matter what Mrs. Holloway said. This is the quiet before the storm. Maybe the room’s gonna be turned upside down, maybe she’s even tried to run away by now. I’m ready for that. Though I’m not ready for the peaceful, almost welcoming scene that greets me the second I open the door.
Brynn’s still in the armchair, tucked into a corner, her thick lips curved into a silent smile, eyes half-lidded like she just woke up from the sweetest dream. Yet that’s not what really gets my attention. It’s the damn shirt she’s wearing. My fucking shirt. I don’t have a problem with her borrowing my clothes. But I have a problem with her looking so damn delicious in them. Especially now, when I’m doing my best not to let my dick get in the way of reason.
“You’ve barely eaten,” I mutter, seeing the plate Mrs. Holloway brought is almost untouched. “If this is some kind of—”
