Page 93 of Mafia Obsession

I stare at him, but his words have no meaning to me.

I reach for my phone instead of asking questions I already know Ares won’t answer. After pairing it with my earbuds, I select an audiobook and allow another voice to fill the silence, while the jet slices through the sky.

It’s carrying us back toward a city where he’s a king, and I’m his prisoner.

Chapter 35

Lourdes

Ares spends the entire flight on the phone while I map out every angle to escape him once we land. I’m grateful for what he’s done, but Ares doesn’t need me. Sandrine does.

I shudder at the idea of telling him about her. He strikes me as a man who doesn’t care for weak women. Liabilities.

With David gone, I have to leave New York as soon as possible. I have enough money to place Sandrine somewhere for a few months. After that, I’ll figure something out.

We land on a private New York runway, and once the cabin is secure, Ares stands over me.

“Come.” He holds out his hand to help me out of my chair and then down the airstairs.

Compliance is my best strategy. If I look like a nervous animal, scratching at the cage, he’ll put more locks on it.

I learned that with David. If they think you won’t leave, they stop watching so closely.

Ares is too busy to watch meallthe time. He’s on the cusp of a new dawn of power. Organized crime is on the verge of a reckoning. He doesn’t need a distraction like me. He’ll be relieved when I’m gone.

Not knowing what my life will look like now that we’re back in New York, I sit rigid beside him in his Bentley. My pulse skids erratically as we drive. The car slows, and his building on Fifth Avenue comes into view.

Glittering figures from every penthouse balcony are guns and men in armor. Ares has turned his home into a fortress for me. It’s no longer a jaw-dropping piece of New York City history.

This is now my prison.

We enter through the underground garage and ride up his private elevator. My previous visit escapes me as far as details. All I recall is Ares naked in his walk-in closet with me, running that soft rope across my skin, and the silent promises he made. I’m so raw right now. It’s as if I’m seeing all this for the first time.

Ares escorts me through the marble foyer past men who nod without meeting my eyes. The rooms are dim, lit only by thin slices of moonlight.

Other men file past us with our bags, disappearing down the residence wing. I’d learned that the guards’ wing sits to the right of the front door.

With Ares’s hand firmly at the small of my back, we reach the double doors to his bedroom. He steps in with ease. Like it’s just another evening returning from the office.

“Ares, why are you bringing me intoyourbedroom?” I ask, my fingers tightening around my purse.

I’m ready to run, but I won’t make it very far tonight with little to no money on me. I have to transfer funds from that shell account to a local bank. Immediately.

He removes my jacket and wedges the strap of my purse from my fingers. “It’s nowourbedroom.”

Shaking, I ask, “Why?”

His metal belt buckle clicks softly, and he slides it free. “Was I not clear?” he asks, his voice steady. “You are going to be my wife. Not a woman under contract that I plan to casually fuck. And as my wife, you will share my bedroom and my bed.”

I ignore the word wife as though it hasn’t lodged under my skin.

“Letmebe very clear,” I begin, forcing my voice to remain even despite the way my pulse hammers off the health charts. “I never asked for any of this. Not clothes, not this penthouse. You removed my husband from the equation. I didn’t ask for that.”

“I didn’t shoot him,” he says calmly.

I tilt my head. “Youdidn’t pull the trigger, perhaps.”

His expression doesn’t change, which is answer enough.