Page 16 of His Forgotten Wife

The glass flute in Dolly’s hand cracked, spraying the cocktail and glass shards everywhere. Even the cold splash of the drink on her chest and the prick of glass against her finger couldn’t compete with the deafening pounding in her ears.

A Christmas wedding…

Ares and her wedding at Christmas…

Ares and her wedding at Christmas with her grandpa and his family and Christina and Isiah present at the beautiful villa…

The visual was far too vivid and heart-wrenching and captured her deepest, darkest wish perfectly.

She was still standing there as Ares, a fierce scowl tying his brows, pushed through everyone and reached her. He wrapped those familiar fingers around her wrist, pulling at her hand until he could examine her palm closely.

“It’s nothing,” Dolly whispered.

“Your pulse is racing, Dahlia.” A filthy curse she’d never heard before fell from his lips. “What did you say to upset her?” he bit out at his mother, uncaring of the avidly watching guests.

Shock held Dolly in its grip. She’d never seen such anger in his eyes before and it was all on her behalf. Shaking her head at her fanciful thoughts, she said, “Ares, she didn’t…”

Juliana raised her palms in a conciliatory gesture, her face pale. “I didn’t say anything to upset her, Ares. I swear. Only that I was happy to help her plan a Christmas wedding, big or small.”

His eyes sought Dolly’s as if seeking confirmation. With a sigh that rose up from the depths of her soul, she nodded.

With her other hand, Dolly reached for Juliana. God, the woman must think Dolly was the strangest creature. “It was nothing you said,” she whispered, hating the fact that she had only ended up causing a bigger scene. “I just squeezed the flute too hard.”

Juliana nodded and turned to Ares. “Why don’t you and Dahlia go explore the cove by yourselves? I’m sure you have both had enough of all this noise and are dying to be by yourselves now.”

Ares’s face gleamed with satisfaction. Without letting go of Dolly’s hand, he leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thank you for arranging the party for me, Mama.”

“Happy birthday, Ares,” Juliana said, tears in her eyes but a smile curving her lips.

Ares did not remember another occasion when he had felt so grateful for his mother’s presence of mind.

Granted, he’d been reminded, again and again, of her devotion to him when he was in the coma but her actual interaction with him had always felt like it was scripted.

As if she’d put his name as the heading and written down a list of questions she should ask him.

As if she were fulfilling a checklist as his mother. Except today.

Today, she’d seemed to see him, recognize that what he wanted at that moment, more than anything, was to be alone with Dahlia. He made a mental note to seek Mama out that night and spend a few minutes in her company.

It wouldn’t be too much of a hardship, especially since he had learned from Arabella that reading romance novels was Mama’s secret pleasure. He could tease her about it before thanking her for giving him the most fantastic idea of all.

He couldn’t betray to her or Dahlia that she had planted the idea in his head. Especially since he’d have muddled his way to it if he hadn’t been operating sub optimally.

Now he had the perfect solution to his problems—Dahlia and he would simply marry.

He had expected to spend his life alone, in the rare few moments that he had thought about the future.

Innovations in his field, his company continuing to prosper, and Dahlia by his side were the only constancies he’d ever wanted.

But the world and the people around him operated at a different level. For reasons he didn’t understand, he was able to see the gap in his perception and the world’s much more clearly since his accident.

Even now, his chest felt tight as he remembered how Dahlia had sobbed earlier.

Her grief, over the possibility of losing him, had provoked an equal amount of pain inside him.

Precisely like those moments after he had crashed into the cliff, pinned under thousands of pounds of hot, angry metal, every breath more painful than the former.

Passing out eventually had been a blessing.

How typically arrogant and blind of him to assume that she hadn’t felt his loss at all.

Clearly, it had affected her more than she could put into words.

It had taken a taste of her pain for him to realize how deeply she felt, and how wounded she still was beneath the easy efficiency she showed the world.

How lonely she was.

And in the moment when he had woken up from the coma, not knowing where he was, not finding her nearby…had been the loneliest moment of his life too.

It was ridiculous to struggle separately when they could be together.

Dahlia needed constancy, a place of belonging, a life where she was wanted and needed and loved. Ares could and would give her all of it. Except the last.

Love was a thing that had always been beyond his understanding.

His parents had fallen in love while Papa had still been married to Sergio and Stefano’s mother, which Ares remembered, had torn the family apart.

And then Mama had spent the rest of her life trying to make it up to his half brothers, just as Papa had, by letting them run wild.

He wanted nothing to do with love when it only hurt others. All he wanted was to take care of Dahlia and he would make sure that she had everything.

Apparently, they even had his mother’s blessing now. Not surprising that Mama had done a one-eighty regarding Dahlia, but then she wasn’t cruel. He had hoped that she would see what Dahlia really was, sooner or later.

Which only made his two main goals easier to achieve: sustain a closer connection to his family while keeping Dahlia by his side forever.

As they anchored just outside the cove, the crew prepared a sleek, inflatable tender boat. He held her waist as Dahlia took off her spiky sandals and stepped into the boat. The air felt invigorating against his face as Ares joined her and took the controls. Salty spray misted their faces instantly.

Dahlia’s laughter as the boat zipped across the short distance stole through his aching body, jolting awareness through him.

His senses had always been attuned to the outside world’s clamor, but this…

this felt unbearably good to experience and he wanted to chase every inch of it with her.

He felt free and excited for the future again.

Something he didn’t remember feeling in the last few years.

When they reached the beach, they hopped off the boat, feet sinking into the cool, soft sand.

Dahlia’s eyes went impossibly wide as she took in the private paradise surrounding them. Her lovely too-wide mouth fell into an O, and Ares decided he wanted a taste of it today. He hadn’t missed how she shivered at his touch, how her breath became shaky when he touched her.

The yacht glided away and she jerked around to watch it, a sudden urgency marring her movements.

With the apex sun painting her golden-brown skin with its loving fingers, her toned thighs moving like animated notes of a tune, she looked beautiful. Ares looked his fill, feeling that tightness all over his body again.

While it had punched him that first night out of the blue, desire was now an ever-present hum in his blood.

When she wasn’t near, he occupied himself with all the things he would do to her, beginning with kissing the thick bow of her upper lip.

When she was near like this, he felt a mad, heart-racing urgency to make sure she stayed by his side through whatever means possible.

The glance she cast him over her shoulder as the yacht moved away was filled with panic and excitement. He chose to focus on the second.

“Why are they leaving us here?” she said, a thin sheen of sweat coating her face.

The flaps of her gauzy wrap played with the breeze, giving him tantalizing glimpses of taut flesh.

Everything about how she was made suddenly a fascinating mystery to him.

He wanted to unravel it all, until she was laid naked for him. In all the ways possible.

“I thought you might like to explore this cove out of the spotlight,” he said. “Plus I wanted to be alone with you. Bring you out of hiding. Don’t worry. They won’t come back. A motorboat will pick us up later.”

“Oh.”

Ares willed her, with everything inside him, to ask what he meant by it. Instead, she let the sandals fall to the sand and pulled the ends of the wrap together. At least, she wasn’t denying him her company.

Reaching her, he gave her his hand.

She only hesitated a moment before she took it. Her touch soothed the scraped, out-of-control parts of him instantly. The compulsion to place the pad of his thumb over her raging pulse won.

But her wariness was like a shield around her, warning him to take it easy with her.

There was no doubt in his mind of her reaction to his idea.

While he had his own hang-ups, Dahlia had been through much worse in her life, beginning with losing her parents at such a young age.

And having to live at a home where she was constantly told she wasn’t wanted.

Even that, he’d learned through Christina.

He’d always seen Dahlia’s efficiency, her competence, but not the vulnerable heart she hid beneath. And now, he would never make the mistake of taking her for granted in any way.

They walked the beach, with warm water gently lapping at their feet for a long while.

The silence that surrounded them spoke of that familiar contentment that had been missing without her, but there was also a tiny, constant crackle under his skin.

As if this new awareness between them was building up with every breath.

“Does your hip hurt less the more you walk?” she asked, breaking the silence after they had nearly walked for fifteen minutes. The pain in his hip, as she’d apparently guessed, felt bearable. When he didn’t answer immediately, she said, “I also noticed that you favor your left side sometimes?”

“Yes to both.”

Out of his periphery, he could see her chewing on her lower lip. “Does it come and go, or is it always there? The pain, I mean.”

“The second,” he said, without looking at her.

“I’m sorry you’re in so much pain, Ares.” Something almost like guilt punctured her words.

“It’s not your fault, Dahlia.”

The silence that followed was fraught with something he couldn’t recognize. It was almost as if she held herself responsible for his accident. Which was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“Ready to tell me what we argued about before I left?”

She stumbled so badly that she nearly hit the sand before Ares could catch her. With a grunt—because she was on his injured side—he pulled her up. Her breaths were harsh pants as she clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder. So his suspicion was right.

They had argued and he had left New York either angry or upset with her. And it had to be something personal or it wouldn’t have lingered in his head, messing him up, distracting him on that drive when he’d crashed.

But racking his brain about the reason or thinking of those few days before the accident only made his headaches worse. Which then made him wonder what horror was waiting for him when those memories did come back to him.

Had she threatened to leave then too? Had she betrayed him in some way? Or had he done something so unforgivable that she’d washed her hands of him when he met with the accident?