It's a super long 8,368-word update, so bear with me. 

Writing this chapter caused me some emotional trauma. 

If reading emotional mess isn't your thing, well, I don't know what to say, but I'd love it if you could continue reading. Things are about to get serious from here onwards, so consider yourself warned. 

need some quick answers because while you're reading this, I've started editing the final version for publishing, starting book 1. Your feedback will help me retrospect things and fix them if needed because you guys are my beta readers of sorts:

What are your thoughts on Areston's character at this stage of the book?

What are your thoughts on Juliette's character at this stage of the book?

Maximum participation is encouraged here and at the bottom section.

💗💗💗

"I am not pleased that you've kept your hair tied up." Areston trails his hand up my neck with an unhurried deliberation that leaves my pulse racing.

His fingers graze my skin before wrapping around the base of my ponytail. He tilts my head just enough to have complete access to my throat, a vulnerable stretch I feel deep in my core. He lowers his head to the sensitive spot behind my ear, his warm breath teasing against my skin.

"You know how I feel about it," he murmurs darkly in a velvet-like voice as he presses a kiss there. "The dress, the missing rings, and the ponytail. Did you do it all deliberately to pick up a fight with your husband?"

His other hand is on my belly, playing with my bejeweled Buttercup belly button ring he got custom-created for me along with the rest of the Powerpuff Girls and Peppa Pig characters.

"Maybe?" I smile, turning to face him. "But mostly because it doesn't go with the look. Celia spent thirty minutes behind it. You're not to spoil it."

"I had an inkling that having your makeup artist and stylist fly down to assist you for dinner tonight was going to bite me in the ass." He continues raining kisses on the side of the column of my throat.

Oh, god. It's a struggle not to shudder and melt when he kisses my skin like this with a dangerously teasing edge that tells me he may leave a mark if he chooses to.

"And yet you did it because you love me. I am not allowing you to leave me a bite mark either. Behave," I elbow him gently and watch his eyes grow narrowed. "I'll let you bite me wherever you want tonight post-dinner if you behave."

"It's not an incentive, tesoro. That's a task as important as me catching my next breath, so it's bound to happen. If you want to incentivize me for my good behavior, especially after how today has turned out to be, you better think of something really good." His lips twitch as he brings his hand from my belly up to stroke my chin.

"I'll think of something." A shivering breath expels off my mouth as I shudder against his deliberate touch. Before I can compose myself to respond, he pulls me roughly into a kiss.

The kiss is deep. Drugging. All too consuming. My body feels tantalizingly receptive to the slow caress of his mouth on mine. It makes me momentarily forget everything else.

"You're so exquisite. I am one lucky bastard," he whispers with his mouth lingering on mine, his voice a deep satiny purr. "I am also not pleased that you switched my choice of dress with this scrape that belongs to a siren in the middle of the sea."

"You'll live," I whisper, somehow managing a smile regardless of an unnerving feeling that is not curbing inside me.

I stare at his rugged features, greedily drinking him in. The heat of his body, his scent, and his touch are making me heady with desire. It should wash away all the apprehension in me as it always does, but it's not. I just hope it doesn't end up creating any kind of rift between us like it did before. I can't lose him again. I'll do everything, even if it means submitting myself to all his whims being his and keeping him in my life forever. I cannot breathe without this man.

"What's going on in your head?" He asks, his gaze closely regarding me. I've been lost in my thoughts despite having my eyes locked with his. "You've been trying to repress some negative thoughts and failing. Out with it."

He knows me.

I sigh, running my fingers in the back of his head and laying my head against his chest. "I've been feeling a strange sense of trepidation since I woke up. Whatever happened between us about the whole Lev issue triggered it. I was hoping it'd settle down once I am in your arms and we've settled the matter between us, but it's not."

"Do you want me to apologize?"

"You never apologize."

"I can do it for you. Do you want me to?"

"Do you want to?"

"I have done nothing I need to apologize for," he notes in a stern tone, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight. "But if it makes you happy, I'll do it. There's nothing I won't do to see you happy."

"What's the use of an apology if it doesn't come from your heart?"

"The only two things that can come from my heart are what I feel for you and my fierce need to protect you. I have zero fucks to spare for anything else."

"Let it be." I shake my head in exasperation, "I don't want your apology anyway."

"Do you want to go home?"

"Why would we do that?"

"Well, I do not like the idea of meeting people when all I want to do is stay home with you. I only agreed to the dinner invitation because of your incessant pestering."

I truly kept pestering about accepting the invitation so I could meet his friend. Apart from Kaden, whom I've known all my life, I do not know a single friend of my husband's. Not that he has that any.

I draw my head back so I can face him. "We're not canceling it. Ugh, you're so insensitive and discourteous, your highness." I come to a sharp halt when my eyes catch the lights below as the helicopter begins its descent on the vast sand dunes stretching endlessly below. "Oh, my goodness! Ares, look. It's just as beautiful as your fortress."

"Our fortress."

"Right. Our fortress," I smile, returning my focus to the lush, hidden oasis of greenery surrounding a secluded, majestic villa that resembles a jewel in the desert in the darkness.

Soft, golden lights and shimmering flicker of lanterns illuminate the sand-colored walls, swaying palm trees, pathways, terraces, and a large pool area, casting their shadows in the dunes.

"Is this guy your best friend from Harvard days?"

"Zayn is Ari's best friend. It's his younger brother and I who went to Harvard together. We're partners in several business ventures," he responds, kissing my hair.

I curl my arms tightly around his own, entwined around me. "You never do business partnerships with anyone except your brothers, Chase and Kaden—four people, out of which two of them are your real family and two adopted family. This guy has to be a part of your adoptive one, which means he's your best friend."

"If you want to put a label on it."

"Why have I never met him?"

"Well, just like I loved chasing the thrill of beating someone to a pulp with my bare hands underground street fighting, he's into this whole underground high-speed car race deal. It almost killed him. He was in a coma for quite some time and has been busy catching up on work in London since he woke up. I don't like you asking me questions about another man," his voice is a low growl as he sinks his teeth in my nape.

I roll my eyes. "There's no reason to be all territorial about it. I am just curious."

"Curiosity kills the cat, tesoro."

"You're impossible," I huff as I tilt my head to face him. "Ares, do you miss chasing that thrill of beating someone to a pulp with your bare hands?" I wince as I even repeat it. The vision is disturbing.

His face splits into a soft smile since evening. He strokes my arms as he speaks, "I have all the thrill I need here in my little ogre, baby. You're my box of unceasing supply of thrills that can keep me occupied for this lifetime and beyond."

I shove at his chest, laughing. "What a jerk."

"Your jerk."

"Mine. Always," I whisper, lowering his mouth to mine to kiss him. "Tell me you love me. Just the words. I need the words. Not how much. Just those three words."

"You know how I feel about those words."

"They're not enough, I know. But right now, I need them." I need the validation.

"I love you, Belle. You're the only thing I'll never let go of."

I can tell him I will never go.

I can do anything he wants to make him feel assured, but I'd rather not.

I am waiting for the day he'll tell me that he knows that I will never go away.

I've patiently waited so long, and I'll keep waiting more for a time when his trust and abandonment issues disappear completely.

We've already come a long way from the time we started.

"Oh, I love you, Beast." I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his. "Don't ever let me go."

"Not in this lifetime. Not in any," he assures with a chilling finality that's a part of his dark personality—of who he is, and I love him regardless of how annoying his assertiveness I tend to find at times.

"Did I mention I don't want any male gaze on you? Least of all, the fucker who's hosting us tonight?"Areston drawls casually, his voice a dark, possessive hum as we're escorted inside the stunning desert villa by the majordomo. "He barely survived death at Ari's wedding after having tried to flirt with you to mess with me. I would have happily shredded him to pieces and discarded him like a bag of trash. Today feels like a good time to finish the job if he tries to repeat the flirting."

His dark energy is wrapping around me like a vice, commandeering every breath I take. I barely suppress a moan, keeping my attention ahead. "You are going to lock your caveman instincts behind a cage for the next few hours, your highness," I whisper.

"There's no fun in that, tesoro." He kisses my head before squeezing the waist that he has been gripping in a territorial claim. His fingers are digging slightly into my side, firm and possessive—a constant reminder of who I am—his possession and lifeline. "However, I am willing to entertain your request. You'll have to offer me something in exchange." The demonic gleam, sadistic and something darker than I've experienced so far, chills me to the bone.

I swallow, my steps arriving at a sudden halt. "And what would that be?"

"You let me fulfill one of the three darkest fantasies of yours tonight."

My treacherous breath leaves my lungs, and I stiffen upon hearing his words. This shouldn't be my reaction, and yet it is.

Last night, we got into talking, and I told him about my three most fantasies that I'd like him to fulfill. I'd given him hints a couple of times before but never had the audacity to say it out bold and loud as if doing that would have been blasphemy. I realize now that he never acted upon those prompts because he wanted me to shed my inhibitions and be raw with my admission. I wouldn't have admitted it so bluntly last night if I didn't have liquid courage in me.

"I want you to fulfill three of my darkest fantasies, your highness."

"Let's hear them out."

"You won't think of me as a slut?"

"Do you want me to punish you for being so conscious in front of me?"

"You're right. I shouldn't be. You know me in and out, so it doesn't matter if you consider me a slut anyway. I am your slut in bed... and whenever you fuck me. So, my fantasies are. Number 1, you chase me, like really chase me the way a predator chases its prey. You exhaust me out of all the energy in my body and then throw me on the floor and take me hard. I have wanted to try it with you ever since Claire showed it to me on The Bacchanal Club's website."

"Remind me to ban Claire from your life. What's number 2?"

"Consensual nonconsent in a confined place... like the ones that scare me. Maybe as big as our elevator probably? But not an elevator per se."

"The place description is fine. The real fantasy's term is not. Say it without coating it with polished jargon, Belle."

"Forced sex. That's my second fantasy."

"Close. Try again. Last chance, wife."

"I... I want you to uh... like I want you to... I mean I want to try rape fantasy."

"Good girl."

"But it needs to feel real. You can force yourself on me when there's an opportunity, as in, of course, when I'm raging mad at you. I am giving you my consent now in full senses so you don't have to ask for it then."

"And if you're the worst kind of livid?" His soulless eyes pierce me as if he knows something that's bound to happen that'll drive me to that point.

"Doesn't matter. Even if I am at that point, I'll deal with that topic later with a clear head. It's already clear that I can never stop wanting you. So yeah, there's that. And if I do want you to stop, I know my safe word. I'll use it."

"You've never used it before."

"Who knows? I might. Honestly, I'll only use it when I've hit a dead-end of my patience with your exaggerating whims. It's highly unlikely, but yeah. Not a second before. You can be assured I'll never waste the safe word for sex, no matter how cruel or deranged it gets. You can break me into pieces with your cock or punishments, and I still wouldn't utter it. Think of it as me trusting you to take care of your lifeline—me."

"Christ, Belle. You make me want to fuck the naivety out of you like a feral animal, but then I want your innocence to stay intact, so I won't. What's the third fantasy?" 

"Which one of the three?" I try to maintain an even tone even though the air in my lungs feels to have been sucked dry and replaced with the thrill that also starts coursing through my veins.

"Let's consider it a surprise." A smirk forms on his lips as his arm on my waist silently and gently nudges me to keep walking.

"Well, well, well, never thought I'd be alive to witness you of all people being in a relationship, Res." We're greeted by the smooth-as-silk voice of a fine male specimen in a dark dinner suit in the living room of the imposing villa.

I feel a flicker of recognition as I take in the sight of the tall and handsome man, whose eyes twinkle with a mischievous sense of boyish charm.

"Told you we'd meet again, didn't I?" He chuckles, reminding me of his parting words from Selene's wedding.

"You did," I reply with a smile tugging at my lips. "We didn't get to introduce ourselves back then formally. I am Juliette. It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness." I offer my hand for a shake.

"Please call me Zayn, and I wouldn't say it's a pleasure to meet you, Juliette." He is about to accept the handshake in his hand when my overly possessive husband captures mine gently but almost in a rough kind of hold and pins it against his chest with his enveloping mine.

"Keep your hands off her unless you wish to pick them off the floor." Areston deadpans.

His friend's grin widens, his gaze flicking over to me with a playful glint as he gestures to guide us toward the living room sofa. "This is the reason why it isn't a pleasure, Juliette. I'm heartbroken. You not only dated him without giving me a chance, but you also married this Ice King here. Whatever you saw in him, I'm telling you now, it's all a carefully constructed facade. He's all hollowed out inside and a cruel manipulator to a destructive extent."

"My wife already knows all that, and she still chose to be with me," Areston says, his tone gruff, settling beside me with his arm still resting possessively on my waist, grounding me as we sit side by side.

Zayn dismisses all the wait staff, making it all a very casual environment. "That's because you put some voodoo charm on her that blinded her to see better men like me. We were all lined up waiting for her."

"Waiting to die, perhaps."

"Romeo happily died for his Juliette. I wouldn't have minded the same fate. What do you say to that, my Juliette?" Zayn winks at me as she passes me my glass of dirty martini.

I laugh, accepting the glass and watching my husband's face remain frustratingly stoic, not one single emotion betraying him.

"Keep saying things like that. I am assuming it's your desperate wish to cease to exist tonight," he responds to his friend while maintaining his eyes on me as if Zayn or anyone else doesn't exist for him, his fingers gently stroking the side of my waist.

"You cannot kill me if that's what you're implying. I am a cat with nine lives. Or so my beloved brother keeps saying," Zayn tosses back nonchalantly, passing a Gurkha to my husband along with a lighter, which he denies. "You know, Juliette. We always wondered if there exists a woman brave enough to manage to tie you down finally," he says, settling on the sofa in front of us. "I can positively conclude you're the only one who could have dared try and even succeed in doing that. Keep your hand off her, for fuck's sake, Res. I am not going to steal her away from you. Never thought I'd witness you being the highest stage clinger."

"I cannot survive not touching her," Areston's eyes heat with a look that sends a shiver down my spine. It's both comforting and terrifying how we feel for each other because what he voiced is my exact sentiment. I crave his constant touch. My existence depends on it. I am so addicted to him, his touch, the air he breathes, and even his cruel manipulations that I cannot imagine surviving a life he's not a part of.

I blush shyly, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

Zayn laughs, the sound rich and packed with warmth. "Well, now I know your only weakness. Do you realize that?"

"I'd like to see you try using it against me." My husband shoots back and kisses the tip of my nose before turning to face his friend.

I chuckle, taking a sip of my dirty martini as I watch the men fall into their casual business conversation. The banter flows smoothly between them, and so do the teasing remarks and the not-so-playful threats when Zayn tries to flirt with me just to rile up my husband. Areston is a blunt, super territorial jerk, but he's my blunt, super territorial jerk, and I wouldn't have it any other way. They've been friends for a long time, and it shows, even if my husband isn't expressive. He doesn't like talking to people, so for him to be on this level of ease with Zayn means he's amongst his trustworthy circle, or we wouldn't be here because my Mr. Testosterone-On-Legs cannot be polite or fake or decent for the sake of it even if his life depends on it.

Despite the easy business conversation they fall into, which is my husband's favorite type, with both men making sure I'm included in all parts of it so I don't feel left out, Areston can't help needing me. His attention remains on me even if his eyes are on his friend. His fingers on the side of my waist continue tenderly stroking me. He occasionally, in fact, more often, kisses the top of my head in mid-conversation with his friend. It's his way of showing without words that he doesn't care about socializing and he'd rather be with me—alone.

Needing me isn't just one of his habits or the most important one—it's his most natural instinct like breathing or blinking. He needs me like he needs the basic biological functioning of his body, without which he can't survive. He doesn't bother hiding his need for me either, ever, no matter where we are and how that makes him appear. He's unapologetic and unfiltered about needing to show me that I am all he cares about. Always. I know that even as he's having a conversation with his friend, he's plotting all the ways he can bring this night to an end and take me home so it could be just us two once again. What's crazy is that it doesn't even scare me. I love it. It's intoxicating to be the center of his universe, his all-consuming madness—to know that I am the only one capable of making him feel that way. It gives a strange sense of empowerment. Even if he's the red flag people warn you about, he's my red flag and all that I need.

I am aware that it goes against my feelings from earlier when he tried to manipulate me with the whole Lev thing, but that's a thing I'd like to deal with later. Areston has no match when it comes to mind games and ruthless, bordering cruel manipulations, so if I want to win a battle of will against him, I have to make my case stronger and prepare myself to thwart his every attempt to change my mind. Arguing with him like every other time and thinking I've got the upper hand while it's him playing me to suit his whims won't work this time. I know he has his reasons for doubting Lev's intentions, but he needs to start trusting my decisions. Lev is my friend, and just because he thinks he's not good news without any concrete proof doesn't mean I will let my decade-long friendship go down the drain. I trust him more than I trust myself, but I know Lev in a way he doesn't. I have seen the side of Lev no one else has. I won't let Areston railroad my friendships just because he thinks of me as his property.

"So, I heard you orchestrated the downfall of Darina Ivanov, Juliette. Quite an impressive takedown. Trust me when I say that's one thing I did not have on my bingo card for at least this lifetime." Zayn raises his glass in the air in a cheering gesture, and his eyes gleam devilishly. His mouth parts in a smirk, and he shifts his attention to my husband. "How are you doing with your heartbreak, considering she was your godmother, Res?"

I mentally wince at the reminder. "I am sure he's surviving just fine."

He laughs, shaking his head. "All of us in the gang tried to get close to that hot criminal over the years, but she had zero attention to spare us. Your husband was the only lucky bastard she'd give her full attention to. We would all be so jealous of him."

I cringe inwardly at the second reminder but force a smile anyway. "Pretty sure that's not how anyone from your gang feels about her anymore."

Areston's fingers stroking the side of my waist have paused momentarily to dig into my skin as if he's sensing my discomfort over the subject.

"Well, being a criminal doesn't exactly wipe off her hotness quotient now, does it?" Zayn answers with a wink. "Speaking of criminals, congratulations on initiating the bid for a hostile takeover, Res. Quite the masterstroke. Bleed those fuckers dry and block all their defenses. Can't wait to watch you sell it off piece by piece or raze it to the ground once and for all. Nikolai had it coming."

The words hit me like a physical blow and suck me dry of oxygen. My heart skips a beat, and I freeze as my mind reels from what I've just heard. No! It can't be... no, no, no. I am perhaps mistaken. Blood starts roaring in my ears as I realize the probability of me being mistaken is zero from the manner Areston's fingers on my waist have paused momentarily. His expressions remain unreadable as ever, and so does his body language, which shows not a single sign of discomfort or panic—not that it ever does. He's not the man who ever panics.

"Hostile takeover?" The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it as my eyes continue pleading to him to turn to look at me and tell me all the rubbish that has started flooding my mind is not but rubbish.

"Of AetherWings Aviation," Zayn is only too happy to supply, too oblivious of what the piece of information is doing to me.

How would he know anyway? Even the man I trust the most, whose gaze is now piercing through me as if reading all my current state of thoughts, didn't seem to care what doing something of that sort would do to me.

"Is that true? You're the one who launched the bid for a hostile takeover of AetherWings Aviation and put Lev in deep trouble?" I ask my husband in a low voice—barely a whisper, and it's shaky.

Areston's eyes resemble an abyss, just like he is, as he regards me quietly. I could fall in them and never come out. That nagging sense of premonition I've been feeling the entire returns from the background in full force. My stupid heart is still not prepared to believe what I am hearing.

"Lev had dared him once." Zayn is the one who responds instead in a careful voice as if he's sensed the tension between my husband and me. "It'd be crazy to back out of the opportunity to swallow his biggest competition, especially when it was catered to him on a platter. Don't you think so?"

I shake my head in disbelief, my attention unwavering on my husband, my mind racing with all kinds of thoughts of betrayal. "That cannot be true. Lev would never do that," I say more to myself than anyone else. "I was talking to him in the afternoon... he was so devastated. He would never—"

"We'll talk about it later." Areston cuts me off smoothly and lifts my hand in his for a kiss.

"Lev would never challenge you to take over his empire, which he's trying to save for his only child." I try to snatch my hand away gently, but he keeps it in his place.

His eyes flash with a dark, lethal rage for the first time in a show of emotion. "You're trusting him over your husband?"

I stare at him, feeling aghast. "So, all this time when I was thinking you'd protect AetherWings from the mighty sharks and help Lev save the legacy for the sake of Adonis, you were the said mighty shark who has put that child's legacy at danger in the first place."

"We'll talk about it later," he asserts again, this time with a scathing finality and almost dismissively as if he has not just hurt me by lying to me for the first time.

He might as well have put a rope around my neck and choked me with it right now, and it would still not have suffocated me as much as his having shattered my trust is making me feel. As if sensing my immediate reaction, his arm around my waist tightens like a vice, but it's not enough to stop me this time. 

I stand abruptly and drag a deep breath. 

For the first time, I feel the need to escape his vicinity. 

A flicker of something indecipherable passes through his gaze as he stares at me, his expression still remote.

It might not be a big deal for him or the third person, but it's a huge fucking deal to me that the one person I trust blindly has betrayed me and made a mockery out of my blind faith in him. It's cutting me deep at levels I cannot begin to describe. I never cared about his stupid rivalry that has been going on with Lev since we were kids because, until today, he never breached the boundary, not even earlier in the afternoon when he manipulated me to cut off Lev.

For the first time, I decided to seek his help professionally rather than take care of it myself because he's my husband. I knew I could always rely upon him to help me share some responsibilities—a responsibility I feel towards Lev for never leaving my side in the tough times and a strange sense of responsibility and protectiveness I feel when it comes to Adonis.

I was wrong. So wrong. 

"Excuse me," I manage, my voice barely keeping me tied up together and not trusting myself to spare a look at my husband and not start crying. "I need to use the restroom."

I follow the steps of the designated staff member as she guides me to the restroom. My mind has stopped working from trying to process the enormity of my husband's actions. Before I can get far, I feel him before I see him. The man is in my blood, and it's impossible for me not to feel his presence. He catches my arm. His grip is as unyielding as I have come to expect from the beast he is. I try to snatch it away, but only makes him yank me against the hard wall of his chest. The staff member disappears without command, leaving us by ourselves.

"What did I tell you about trying to pull away from me, hmm?" He hisses, dragging me out of the door that leads to a pool area and thrusting me against the wall.

I ignore his menacing voice, continuing my struggle as my eyes stare at his shirt. "Let go, Areston." I cannot even gather myself to look at his face right now.

"Look at me."

"No."

"Look at me, Belle."

"No."

"Fucking look at me goddamit." He grabs my jaw in a rough grip of his fingers and tips my face up.

I still refuse to look at him and stare at the small crystal chandelier hanging off the ceiling instead.

My eyes brimming with tears. "Let go. Please."

"Wrong kind of begging, tesoro," he growls, breaching the space between us, his voice low and dangerously thin, his breath hot against my mouth.

"I. Said. Let. Go." I close my eyes. "I need some breathing space," I say, my voice shaking as I struggle to pull myself away from him.

"No, you don't," he seethes, bristling with dark fury as he pins both my wrists above my head.

The haughtiness in his tone pisses me off, and I open my eyes to find his own eyes muted with no emotions in them. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that it might just shatter the ribcage and fly out of it. Rage is boiling in me. My mind is screaming at me to push him away and to escape from his overwhelming presence that's rendering me unable to think clearly.

"I need it," I whisper, "And considering all that has happened today, you're going to let me have it. I am not going to beg you for needing my breathing space, Areston."

With one hand keeping my wrists pinned to the wall in an unyielding hold, he slides his hand restraining my jaw down to my throat, his fingers closing around my neck like a noose, squeezing it just enough to send my pulses soaring in a silent indication that with the barest of pressure, he can effortlessly cut me off my air supply and choke me to death.

"You've never needed it before. You don't need it now," Areston murmurs in a soft, seductive husk of a whisper as he leans in, tenderly tracing an upward path on my cheek with his nose, further restricting my breath, his body pressing against mine like a human cage.

He might as well be a predator who's scenting its prey. On the surface, his voice mirrors the calm of the still sea's surface, but I know him enough not to be fooled by it and can actually sense the violent currents that are lurking in the depths. His thumb presses deeper into my skin as he strokes the pulse point on my neck in a deliberate, signature demonstration of his claim over me. He's wordlessly reacquainting me with the raw truth that my lifeline—every heartbeat—and my existence relies solely upon his mercy, which is quite literally the truth and no parts exaggeration. That my heart can beat only in the palm of his hand, and he can make it stop if he wishes, which, again, is no lie.

"I do now," I manage a whisper, glaring at him, hating how weak and pathetic I sound, how he's making me feel like I'm battling the quicksand.

"Need I remind you of your vow to put me above everything and everyone else, tesoro? " His lips continue hovering close to the corner of my mouth, his voice vibrating through me in a familiar dark warning.

It makes my blood boil. I want to claw at him, to scream, to make him understand how I'm feeling and how he's confiscating my air right now, but I know it won't work, so all I can do is let the rage simmer beneath the surface. Making him understand things he doesn't wish even to bother to try comprehending is worse than banging my head against an iron wall. It'll only cause me more hurt and heartbreak.

"That has nothing to do with this situation right now, Ares. You know it. Don't you dare try to manipulate me using my words to fit your agenda."

"On the contrary, it has everything to do with it, Belle. There's no concept of space between us. There never has been and never will be. Like I said before, you've never needed it before. You don't need it now." The edge of finality in his tone only makes me furious some more.

It's also infuriating how his face remains a tightly strapped blank mask, just as blank as his stare. I grit my teeth, my fingers forming into fists so hard that my nails dig painfully into my palms.

"Just because I haven't needed it before doesn't mean I don't need it now! I do. I do very much, Areston!" My voice is trembling as severe anxiety and frustration war within me. "In fact, I need it as much as I want to hurt you somehow so you feel how I feel right now. It's too bad I cannot bring myself to even somehow acquaint you with the kind of pain that I am feeling right now. It doesn't help that you're a sociopath to understand any of it. You lied to me. You broke my trust, and you're not even bothering to apologize to me for it, just for the sake of it. Let alone feel actually guilty about what you've done."

"I have done nothing wrong to apologize or feel guilty for. I have never lied to you either, Belle. Like Zayn said, Lev challenged me, and I am not the one to back out of it. The fact that you think I have lied to you about saving AetherWings and also trusting your so-called friend over your husband is making me want to punish you right now," he says with cold indifference as if it's a fact he's relying on, which I'm simply supposed to accept. His voice is steady and in complete control, just like him.

"Keeping me in the dark is as bad as lying! I don't care what Lev did or didn't. How difficult is it for you to get it? You kept your plans from me this entire time and manipulated me into believing you were doing me a favor. You treated the matter like just another business deal. Or better yet, it's just another strategic move on your chessboard. You completely disregarded my emotions as if it doesn't matter to you," I snap, my anger smashing against the steely wall of his cold indifference, and try to pull away, but his hold on me only tightens further.

He shoves me back gently, suppressing my struggle. His hollow, unfeeling stare locks mine with a ferocity that borders on asphyxiation. "You wanted me to save the damn company for the bastard's son, and I said I'll do it—on my fucking terms. I never promised anything otherwise. I never promised to do something heroic. Besides, I've been planning the takeover even before you came into the picture, so stop with the goddamn accusation, Belle."

"That would've been probably alright—probably—had you considered me significant enough to be part of your plan. I am so fucking stupid. You're such a hypocrite. I am supposed to involve you in all my plans and everything I do without you having to ask me for it, but the same doesn't apply when it comes to you. Because apparently for you to involve me, you need to consider me something other than your wife. All you consider me is this weak, vulnerable better half you constantly want to keep protecting from the world. It doesn't matter to you if that costs me my sanity. My goodness! Do you have any idea how naive you've made me feel today, Areston? You don't even care that you've shattered something between us, no matter how small or insignificant it feels in the larger picture."

"You're exaggerating."

I gasp, my frame sagging against the wall in defeat. "Is that all you have to say to me after treating me like dirt?"

"You know that's not true. Let's go home."

"So, you can fuck me to oblivion and put me to sleep, thinking that it'll all be all sunshine in the morning when I wake up."

He narrows his eyes, and for a brief second, there's something I notice flickering in them—a flash of something dangerous and dark—but then it's gone, leaving the permanent blankness there.

He bends to roll my lower lip between his teeth, his heated breath not helping my situation. "I am not doing this here, Belle. Let's go home."

He isn't even pretending to listen to me. My accusations are nothing more than a rant to him. In his mind, he still doesn't believe he has done anything wrong, and his agenda is to take me home, gaslight me, and make me change my mind. I need to be in public now more than ever, in a company where it's not just the two of us. I am pathetically weak when it comes to it, and I acknowledge it. I need a third person as a shield to protect me from falling like the blocks of Zenga, as he expertly manipulates me once we're alone. Although god knows he can do it even now, and no amount of company can shield me from him.

"No. You can go home if you want. I'm staying. I am eager to talk to your friend and find out what's more that you're probably hiding from your innocent and naive wife. I already know you treat me like I don't even matter when it comes to important decisions. I was a fool to think you consider me your equal. I shouldn't have forgotten you'll always be the chauvinist jerk you've always been at heart with a proud male ego. God forbid if you involve your woman in your decision-making."

His fingers on my neck tighten in a warning. It makes me gasp this time as I choke. "Throw all the accusations and labels you want, Belle. I don't give a fuck. All I need you to do is to trust me blindly. You always do. Do it now. Keep doing it."

His words hit me like a hammer, and I'm swarmed with a familiar suffocating sting of helplessness. Tears start rolling down my cheeks. "I can't keep trusting you when you keep treating me like a chess pawn, and you can move however it suits your strategy."

One second, he's watching my tears, and the next, he's leaning in, flicking his tongue across my cheek, and tasting the trail with a slow, deliberate swipe in an upward motion. My breath hitches, and I freeze against him. I absolutely lose it as I watch him savor the taste as if the taste of my pain thrills him—and it's a correct assessment, given he really does love savoring my pain.

"You're not a pawn. You're my queen," he whispers in a clipped tone, his voice almost hollow.

I bite back the intense urge to scream, and balling my fingers into fists, I glare at him instead. "You haven't made me feel like one today. I feel worse than a pawn. At least those have some value. I feel like I am completely irrelevant—someone who's unworthy to be a part of your decisions. Is that the kind of wife you wanted? A doormat?"

"Are you done?" He is regarding me with absolute detachment and these are instances that I hate that I can't read what's going into his head or just how out of touch he is with human emotions.

"Am I?"

His lips brush dangerously close to mine as he releases my neck and touches my lower lip, grazing it with his thumb pad. "I did what was necessary. While I love your melodramatic genes, I'd rather we go home so I can deal with it in privacy instead of someone's home," he says, his voice quieter this time.

His words are like punches in my gut. "Melodramatic? That's what this is? Do you have any idea how gloriously you're pissing me off right now? You do whatever it takes to win and don't care about the possible repercussions as long as you're accomplishing your end goal. As your wife, I am supposed to just fall in line and simply accept it and be okay with it. While I am all the time for even the most exaggerated things that you do, I am not this time! And I absolutely hate that you're labeling my dismay as melodrama. You've not only kept me in the dark, you're ambushing me into thinking I'm overreacting. Do you realize how small it's making me feel, Areston?"

"You have to trust me."

"And you're supposed to trust me!" I shout. "I am your wife, Areston. I deserve the respect of being a part of your strategies, just like you're of all of mine. It hurts that you don't see it that way."

Instead of answering me, he slams his mouth against mine in a violent kiss that takes me out of surprise. It's more of a claim asserting on me than an apology.

I force my mouth away, enraging him. A blinding fury lights up his dark gaze. "You're suffocating me right now, and I need some space." I lower my face, hating how weak I am to fight what he does to me both physically and emotionally. "Please let me go and let me be by myself for some time. I'll join you guys in a while."

His fingers curl around my chin, forcing me to look up with subtle pressure. It's not painful, but it's not a delightful touch either. His jaw tightens, and for the first time ever, frustration, just a flicker of it crosses his face, which he immediately suppresses, his eyes turning to his classic unflinching and cold.

"Do you know the difference between you and me, wife? I will always be all in, while you'll keep coming up with ways to suffocate yourself when things don't go your way and pin the blame on me. It's classic you. I never expected it to change because leopards can't change their spots. I was counting on this to happen sooner than later. Needing things your way regardless of how wrong they are and then feeling smothered when it doesn't happen and blaming it on me is fundamentally deep-rooted in your nature. It's impossible to alter. Doesn't matter if a decade passes or a lifetime. It's who you are, just what your mother molded you to me, no matter how hard you work to prove me otherwise," his words cut through the air, unforgiving and sharp.

The entire oxygen knocks out of my lungs and I feel numb all over as I finally hear the one thing I knew he felt but kept suppressed deep inside not to hurt me. 

I feel something break deep inside me—my heart. My brain stops working, and I feel like my whole world comes crashing down in front of the only man who can keep me together but is right now responsible for shattering me. I don't even feel angry anymore. I don't know what I feel anymore. 

"Let me go," I say silently.

Of course, he doesn't. "No."

"Let go, Areston."

His mouth brushes the shell of my ear. "You're mad at me. Speak what's on your mind instead of suppressing it," his voice is thick with a haughty arrogance as if whatever he just said wasn't a big deal. He's supposed to read my mind, but for the first time, he's failing, or he's seeing exactly what he has done, but he's choosing to disregard it, just like most of the time he's disregarded my feelings today. "Or I'll be tempted to use my methods of placating you."

I barely suppress a shudder. "By fucking me raw and hard."

"Precisely."

My chest tightens with the sheer audacity of this man I'm in love with. "Very well. Do it, then. But you might as well be prepared for me not to be placated this time. And you might as well be prepared to indulge in necrophilia. I feel like a dead fucking corpse right now, so that's who you'll be fucking. Don't expect me to move or react or speak. If that's not your thing, then go ahead and hurt me physically. See if you can force a word out of me or a reaction or a move. Should be no problem for you, considering your sadistic self has already done it a thousand times before with my look-alikes."

For the first time, he flinches as if I've hit him. He's stunned, and it's visible in his eyes even if his face remains a tight mask of blankness. Shock followed by fury flashes into those blue orbs I am madly in love with—the ones that are my death and damnation and my heaven all at the same time. There's even hurt in them. Again, for the first time. He's wired never to show what he's thinking or feeling—the latter only happens in my case because, for the rest of the world, he's a cold, unfeeling human. He wasn't expecting me to say something like that and that has rattled him, and it shows.

All of it, however, is fleeing, and he recovers quickly. The air thickens between us in silence, the tension grows unbearable. His fingers on my chin tighten, but I remain unflinching. I hold my ground, matching his icy glare head-on. The rage simmering under his skin is palpable, and so is his frustration of being unable to bend me to his will for the first time. I watch a wild storm brew behind his gaze, but for the first time, it doesn't scare me—not even a bit. I need him to feel this. I need him to know that I am not okay. He leans closer, his lips brushing against mine. I feel the seconds on the clock fit in my brain, ticking as he remains silent, watching me, and I hope that he doesn't force me to do something I'll regret later. I hope that he understands what he has done and said today.

"Ten minutes," his voice is low, clipped, cutting through our silence like a knife.

I blink, having been caught off guard. "Ten minutes?"

"You were begging for space? I am suffocating you? Fine. Ten minutes." He steps back, the chilling intensity of his gaze still locked on mine, his shoulders squaring as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants.

He stands intimidating me with his existence, daring me to defy him. The pool area suddenly feels like a massive hall, too big, too void without his weight pressing against me. I hate that I miss it even in this state. But I restrain my emotions just like he does, refusing to give him anything after he has hurt me more than he did on our last day together in Sardinia. He's in control and calm on the surface, as always. Not a hint of emotion betraying him. He's giving me what, according to him, I begged for, but he's granting it to me in the way he sees best— with a time limit.

I stand, leaning against the wall, frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watch him turn and leave.

He stops, his back to me and his hand on the handle, and looks at me over his shoulder. "Escape me for ten minutes. Once the time's up, I am hauling you back into my vicinity and keeping you there even if it suffocates you to death. I'd gladly follow you to the afterlife, but I am not giving you space again. Ever." His unnervingly calm and assured voice makes him even darker and scary.

He walks out with a heavy finality, closing the door behind him. And just like that, I fall onto my feet, all alone and in tears. My chest feels tight from the weight of his absence and what just happened.

I thought being loved by him was enough, even if he didn't trust me yet.

I've just realized that it's not enough. 

It'll never be enough. 

How was the chapter? 

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What's your take on Areston's part?

What's your take on Juliette's outburst? Do you think it's justified? 

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