“Damn,” Ares says with the shake of his head. “He snaked it right out from under you.”
I nod. “I lost my mom when I was a teenager. I literally lived at that gym. There’s an apartment above it. I spent the majority of my life there. And then to find out I couldn’t hold on to it? I lost the place my dad loved most at the same time I lost him. Tate even kicked me out of my home. I’ve been living in that shithole you moved me out of ever since.”
“How’d your parents die?” he asks gently as we cross the street with the herd of traffic.
My stomach tightens. I’ve only ever talked to Ophelia about this. I don’t have many other friends. And everyone else I talk to works at the gym, and they all know exactly what happened. Opening these wounds is not something I do. Ever.
“It was a training accident with my dad,” I explain, keeping it simple. “This guy he’d been working with, Steven, accidentally got my dad in the head. It really was an accident, but there were other health issues we couldn’t see. Dad had a stroke. He died on the way to the hospital.”
Ares curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Lana.”
I nod in appreciation. The weight of it all bites at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them well or redden. “My mother was killed in a home invasion. I… I don’t like to talk about it much.”
“You don’t have to,” Ares assures me and squeezes my hand. “Not everyone has to know all the details. That’s all you have to share with me if you want.”
I sniff once, even though no tears have broken through. “Thanks. Sorry you picked such a trauma-rich fake fiancée.” I chuckle through the pain.
And it works. Ares gives a soft laugh as well. “Trust me, Vengeance, you’re not the only one with some heavy shit in this relationship.”
But we don’t get to dive into any more details because just then, I realize we’re on Fifth Avenue, and he pulls a door open for me. With a hand at the small of my back, Ares guides me inside.
I stop in place.
The entire interior is a glittering, sparkling show of opulence.
The floors are polished black marble. The walls are gold, with endless mirrors hanging everywhere. Dozens of crystal chandeliers hang overhead. Even the air smells rich.
There are display cases set up all over the place.
And there are diamonds everywhere.
But surprisingly, considering the never-ending crowds outside, the place is empty, save three waiting employees.
“Welcome to Volga Tsar,” says a woman with black, blunt-cut hair. Despite her words, she wears a judgmental expression. Her eyes scan up and down Ares, ready to call the cops on him. “But I am afraid we are closed for a private event.”
I realize then the life Ares chose when he decided on all those tattoos and piercings.
“I called earlier,” Ares says. He pulls me in closer, his hand wrapping around my waist. With every inch it drops, my heart rate rises.
“Mr. Hunt?” she asks, her tone doubtful and surprised. Her brows disappear into her blunt bangs.
“That would be me,” he answers, a very satisfied smile pulling on the corners of his mouth. “And my gorgeous fiancée, Lana.”
Once more, her eyes look him over before they flick to me, evaluating if we can possibly be the people Ares is saying.
Ares called ahead? And closed this whole place down so just the two of us could have it?
“We’re delighted to help you on this beautiful occasion,” another woman says as she steps forward. She not so subtly hip bumps the other woman out of the way. If I had to guess, I’d say this woman is the supervisor. She screams ass-kisser with that black business dress, perfect blonde hair, and makeup that looks as if it was done by a professional. “My name is Carissa. It was me you spoke to on the phone, Mr. Hunt. How about we get started?”
“That sounds perfect,” he says, giving a very smug glance to the first woman. He places a hand to the small of my back and encourages me forward, following Carissa.
“Have you given much thought as to what cut of diamond you like?” the saleswoman asks as she steps behind the counter. She unlocks one of the displays and pulls out a velvet cushion. Sitting atop it are a dozen massive diamonds.
“Kitten?” Ares encourages when I stare at the jewels with wide, cartoon eyes.
“I…” My mouth opens, but I can’t gather my thoughts enough to form words.
I’ve seen plenty of wedding rings in my life. So many women wear them. There are pictures online. I have a pretty good idea of what a normal ring looks like.
