Page 12 of His Forgotten Wife

Ares stood on the starboard side, his gaze fixed on the rolling waves as they parted around the hull. Away from the loud music and dancing on the main deck. Much as he hated the noisy celebration, he loved being on the water.

It reminded him of the rare occasions he had spent time with his father without Stefano or Sergio around. Something about its blue depths had always calmed him.

That afternoon, with the sunlight hitting it just right, the Aegean glittered like turquoise jewels.

He tried to look interested for Arabella and Mama. The latter, he knew, was aggressively trying to make up for whatever she had overlooked when he had been a boy.

And Dahlia, of course.

Short of ordering her to chain herself to him, the only way he could draw her out was by partaking in as many of the family activities as possible.

Plus, there was the fact that he wanted to spoil her.

Once, he would have been horrified by the idea of her gaze on him constantly, but now he craved it.

Maybe it was the whole nearly-losing-his-life thing but his perspective had shifted on life.

Dahlia had been right about one thing: they had worked far too hard for far too long without enjoying the fruits of that hard work.

Per his plan, he was also supposed to approach his older brothers and begin a conversation about the lawsuit. But every time he laid eyes on them, strutting about like arrogant peacocks, hot fury filled his throat.

He backed off, telling himself that he couldn’t ruin the day by starting an argument with them.

Plus there was the tiny, infinitesimal chance that his half brothers might back away from the lawsuit, since his accident had turned all their lives upside down.

And if they did, Ares would have no reason to keep Dahlia by his side.

No reason to keep their fake engagement going.

That he would tolerate Sergio and Stefano’s vile claims just to keep Dahlia close for a little longer mildly alarmed himself. For the first time in his life, Ares wished for a friend he could talk to about all the new developments his recovery was bringing.

Christina was a good friend but she cared about Dahlia and would spill his own doubts to her in a second. The only other “friend” he had was Dr. Isiah King who was currently somewhere in the South Pole running a clinic and completely incommunicado. Another university mate.

A dark shadow cut off the direct glare from the sun. He bit back a sigh as he realized it was his parents. Instantly he opened his phone and realized he’d missed a text from Dahlia. Laughter burst up through his belly and chest as he skimmed her list.

Learn to swim. Take a dance class. Climb a mountain.

Go for a ride in a hot-air balloon. Act in a movie.

Get kissed upside down like MJ. Have an orgasm under water.

Go back to school and finish my business degree.

Indulge in a red-hot affair with a hot stud.

Make a man fall hopelessly in love with me.

Marry said man in a grand, beautiful ceremony.

Have four babies by thirty-two—two boys and two girls. Live a romance-novel-worthy HEA.

He had no doubt that she had made it as outrageous as possible just to deter him. But after nine years together, she should know him better. Yes, there were things on the list that he absolutely wasn’t into, but if it truly brought her happiness, he would try them.

Dahlia wasn’t the only one who had let life pass her by.

He didn’t know if it was the pain in his hip, like a hot flame licking at him at all hours, or the painful headaches, or the realization for the first time ever that his life was out of his control, but he wanted to more than just function optimally in his own bubble.

Sure, his brain always needed the stimulus of new innovation but he had amassed enough wealth to maintain a luxury lifestyle if he didn’t work another day in his life.

He wanted to have new experiences. And he wanted to have them with Dahlia. And he…

The sudden, deafening silence around him finally registered. It was as if someone had muted a loud TV show.

Ares looked up to find his family—including Sergio and Stefano—staring at him as if he’d grown two horns in the blink of an eye. His mother and father looked dazed, as if they’d been frozen in time.

“What?” he barked, his skin crawling at their focused attention on him.

“We’ve never seen you laugh like that,” Mama said, tears in her eyes. “Even as a boy, you were so…serious.”

Annoyance prickled through him. But if she opened the door to his childhood, then he would take it. “I didn’t have much chance to laugh like that growing up. And even if I did, you were far too preoccupied with other stuff to notice.”

Mama flinched while Papa bit his name through pursed lips like a curse.

“And now? What made you laugh like that?” Mama persisted in a falsely cheerful tone that no one bought.

Her wobbling chin made Ares feel like a monster. He knew she meant well but she and her close-to-surface emotions were beginning to scrape at him like fingernails on chalkboard. As if her misery and grief and guilt were all his burdens that she wanted him to alleviate right now.

He sighed, rubbed his hip, then swept his hand through his hair. One look at the list again and his dark mood lifted like fog under the morning sun. “My fiancée and her demands, that’s what made me laugh.”

“Her demands,” Mama said, somehow managing to sound derisive.

For a man who never got nuance, it was clear what conclusions she was jumping to in that moment.

“Yes, Mama. It’s the first time Dahlia has told me what she wants. And I intend to give in to each and every wish of hers,” Ares said, just as the loud whir of a motorboat drowned out the silence.

He shot to his feet, ready to take on his dear assistant and all her demands.

It took Dahlia ten seconds to realize that she had cut off her nose to spite her face by dressing like she had.

The metal railing was cool against her fingers as she climbed the short, retractable ladder.

Her heart was loud in her chest at the thought of a hundred pairs of eyes following her every step.

Grasping the smooth teak deck, she hoisted herself up.

For a few moments, the lavish extravagance of the yacht made her forget her own embarrassment. The main deck gleamed, with its polished teakwood glinting in the September sun, reflecting ripples of sunlight that danced across the sea’s sapphire surface.

On the upper deck, elegant, ivory-hued loungers sat with precision, framing a crystal-clear pool that mirrored the Aegean’s deep blue.

Beyond the smooth, sculpted rails, the vast expanse of water stretched out endlessly.

Amidst it, guests flitted about, dressed in pastel linen dresses that made them look like pretty mannequins at designer boutiques.

Dolly had no doubt that she stood out like a sore thumb, with every square inch of her skin exposed by the crop top and shorts.

God, she was stupid. The last thing she wanted was more attention from these people. And yet, that was exactly what her stunt had achieved. At least, the gauzy cover-up she had borrowed from Arabella lent her some cover and sophistication.

She was nothing but a guest and these people and their snooty opinions didn’t matter to her, she reminded herself when Ares reached her.

His gray gaze turned molten, like the surface of the ocean during a storm, as it swept over her.

A soft grin kicked up one corner of his mouth, and he leaned forward and pressed his cheek to hers in a greeting.

For the audience, she assumed, but still, the patch of skin that touched his seared.

As if he’d stamped her as his possession.

Was it possible that his tendency for hyper fixation had rubbed off on her?

The pine and mountain scent of his lingered on her as he pulled back, loosely laced their arms together. As if she were a puppet whose strings were in his capable hands, Dolly let him sweep her along.

She had never been gladder for the broad swathe of his shoulders. Seeing him like this, so magnetically alive, brought her earlier realization simmering back to the surface.

She desperately wanted to apologize for messing up, for not anticipating that he might not respond well to her sudden, foolish admission.

After all, she knew better than anyone that Ares needed to feel in control at all times, in all situations.

Not just in his physical space, but with his emotions too.

He was the same man who hadn’t returned home in nine years because it messed with his head, even as he funneled millions into the family business.

She wasn’t sure if she could ever forget the crushing set-down he’d given her that day—or the hopelessness she’d felt in its aftermath—but she was beginning to understand why he had done it.

But telling him that she understood meant telling him what had actually transpired, beginning with their marriage contract.

And Dolly wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready to bring that up, to render herself that vulnerable to him ever again.

All she had to do was wait out what was left of the twelve-month period, or Ares recovering his memories, and then the contract marriage could be dissolved.

Moving forward was the best. For both of them. Once the headache of the lawsuit was over and his memories mostly returned, Ares himself would not want her around. The fact that he’d remembered being furious on the flight to Greece confirmed that well enough.