Page 152 of Mafia Obsession

But not for me. I smile through my heartache for my sister’s wellness sake. I’m so proud of her relentless determination. I know she’ll grow stronger with each passing week.

“It’s great here, isn’t it?” I murmur softly, keeping one hand near her elbow.

She shifts her weight and takes a careful step toward the fountain. “The water is so refreshing.”

I lean in and whisper, “You know what’s also refreshing? Ice cream. There’s a place on the other side of the campus. Let’s go check it out and?—”

“Sir, this area is for patients,” someone shouts by the entrance near the parking lot.

I don’t know who’s shouting at who, but my first instinct is to step protectively in front of my sister. Shielding her, I glance back at the doorway we came through to access the garden.

My heart stops, thinking it’s Kirill. No, it’s…

Aresmarches toward me, framed by the bright desert light glowing on his wide shoulders. Wearing a perfectly tailored suit and dark shades that conceal his eyes, his presence rearranges the air. It’s like the wind bends to his will.

Ares doesn’t look at me. His eyes are on Sandrine, and with measured steps he reaches her. Only then does he remove his sunglasses.

“Jessica,” he says, his gaze soft in a way I’ve rarely seen. “I’m sorry to intrude. May I borrow my wife?”

My sister nudges me. “Talk to him, Lourdes.”

She strolls away to sit on the edge of the fountain again. I turn back to find Ares smiling at me. The air between us crackleswith the same electrical charge as the night we met. That night at Winterhall, when I saw a deep, dark desire for me in his eyes.

“Hello, Lourdes,” he says.

My name sounds different on his lips, stripped of ownership, stripped of carrying the burdens to protect me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice trembling, nervous he may be here, warning me about Kirill.

He steps closer, but not too close. “I came to see my wife.”

I feel the familiar sting of tears gathering, but I’ve had time to harden myself, and I’m able to resist letting them fall so easily.

“Our marriage is over, Ares. You didn’t want a wife,” I say. “At least not in the way I wanted to be your wife.”

Loved.

“I was wrong,” he says, his voice raw. “I thought distance would make it easier. I thought if I let you go, the complication would fade.”

“Complication?” I repeat.

“Love,” he corrects immediately. “I thought love would fade. That is…” He pauses to lock eyes with me. “My love for you. I didn’t know how to open myself up to you without believing you would weaken me, and I would no longer be in control.”

When I fail to respond, he continues, “I’m not here to trick you into coming home. I’m your husband. And I want to live with you as one. A husband who kisses you. A husband who fucks you. Not one in name only.”

“You broke my heart,” I bite back, my voice is strong out of nowhere. “I did everything you asked of me, and you still left me, Ares. Two weeks into our marriage! You dismantled everything I thought we were building. Including my trust in you.”

He nods softly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You made me feel foolish for believing that what we had was real. You made me feel small. Disposable.”

His hands curl into fists against his thighs, but he remains silent, absorbing it.

“It hurt worse than anything David ever did to me,” Icontinue in a whisper. “He left bruises on my body. You left them on my heart. There wasn’t a mark on my face when you left, but there is a scar inside me that I don’t know how to erase.”

His eyes close briefly at that, pain flashing across his features. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded document. Seeing the divorce papers I signed and left for him, my breath catches.

“I believed I was sparing you from a man who didn’t know how to love properly if I tried,” he admits in hushed tones.