Page 101 of Beneath Scarred Vows

"Did you make the call?" Ares asks suddenly, removing his headphones. His voice is dry, all business and devoid of emotion.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"When will I meet him?"

I turn to face him, meeting those cold eyes that had once looked at me with such heat. "He'llbe meetingus. The evening after we arrive. It was his only available time."

"Where?"

"At my uncle Stavros's vineyard."

Ares raises an eyebrow. "At Stavros Petrou's vineyard?"

"Yes. It's private, secluded. No chance of being overheard." I take a sip of water. "And on safe, neutral grounds."

Even Ares knows that neither would have been okay meeting on their own territory. I can see in his eyes he doesn't like it, but he doesn't have a choice.

"He didn't ask questions?"

"Of course he did," I reply, but not the ones he really wants to know. "He asked how I was adjusting to married life. He asked how Chicago was treating me. He asked if I was happy."

Something flashes in Ares's eyes. Irritation, perhaps, or jealousy. "And what did you tell him?"

"I lied." I hold his gaze. "I said I was adjusting well. That Chicago was beautiful. That I was happy."

The words hang between us, sharp enough to draw blood.

Ares's jaw clenches tighter, but his expression remains neutral.

The jet's engines roar, and we start racing down the runway. I grip the armrests tightly. I've never liked takeoffs.

Ares falters for a moment. "You can move next to me if you're scared," he says suddenly, voice still emotionless.

I almost laugh at his absurdity. Almost.

"I'd rather fall out of the sky," I reply with a fake smile and breathe my way through the takeoff.

Ares doesn't respond, just replaces his headphones and returns to his work.

I look out the window, watching clouds swallow us whole. My body is exhausted, but my mind refuses to rest. I've barely slept since our fight. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face—enraged one moment, then empty and cold the next. I heard the sound of my hand hitting his face. Felt the sting on my palm and fingers.

We'd come so far. Somehow, against all odds, we'd created something real between us. Trust. Desire. Maybe even the beginnings of love.

And now? Now we're strangers again. No. Worse than strangers. We're adversaries with a shared goal but opposite beliefs.

Hours have passed now, and I've been trying to lose myself in this romance book. I figured a dark love story seems fitting for my current situation. Ares has been relatively quiet.

Theo came out of the back bedroom looking a bit hungover and talked to Ares about something he did at their little sex club. I forgot he was even coming on this trip.

Then about three or so hours ago, he took a meeting with Enzo and Gio Bonventi to go over some shipments coming in. I tried not to listen because I don't care.

Obviously, I still do have something there, because little miss bleached-white teeth and perfect boobs has been looking at Ares, and it's bothering me, something I'm not used to.

Just as I'm about to finish a chapter and call her over to order some food, the plane jolts suddenly.

My head snaps up, book tumbling from my hands. My fingers instantly clamp around the armrests. The aircraft dips, then steadies, but my heart keeps hammering.

I fucking hate turbulence.