Chapter 2 Unexpected Proposal

Ares

The heavy oak door swung inward, and before I could even clear the threshold of my suite, a dead weight collided directly with my chest. I stumbled back a step, my boots barking against the tile as I instinctively reached out. My hands locked around a pair of slender shoulders to keep us both from going down.

"Are you all right?" I asked, keeping my voice level despite the sudden jolt.

The woman’s head rolled back. Her wide, glassy eyes lifted to mine, and the entire corridor seemed to lose its sound. The breath trapped itself in my lungs.

No fucking way.

It was her.

Eight years of silence, eight years of forcing myself to look past every face in a crowd, and here she was. Standing in the doorway of my room like the universe had simply decided to hit play on a memory I thought I'd buried deep enough to forget.

I needed to hear her say it. I needed to know the haze in my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. "Do I... know you?" I asked, my pulse thudding a heavy, irregular rhythm against my ribs. She looked different—softer around the edges, the sharp youthfulness replaced by a quiet, exhaustion-lined beauty that made my chest tighten.

"Kianna," she stammered, her tongue tripping over the syllables. "Kianna Myst Saavedra."

The name hit me like a physical blow to the sternum.

It really was her.

But as the initial shock faded, the reality of her condition settled in. Her pupils were dilated, her focus shifting rapidly across my face without ever truly landing. Her frame swayed against my palms, her balance completely shot.

"You—" I started, tightening my grip to steady her.

Before the next word could leave my mouth, her small hand flew up, slapping firmly over my lips.

"Later!" she gasped, her voice raw and dangerously thin. "Whatever it is, you can tell me later. Just please... where is the restroom?!"

Her features suddenly contorted in a flash of pure panic. I felt the sharp, violent tremor run through her entire body a split second before she gagged. She ripped her hand away from my mouth, slapping it over her own as if that could stop the momentum.

It didn't.

A ragged heave tore from her throat, and the contents of whatever she’d been drinking splashed across the polished entryway floor, missing my boots by inches.

I took a sharp step back, my stomach turning at the sour, heavy scent of cheap wine. "What the—"

Before I could grab her arm, her knees buckled completely. She didn't just slide down; she went limp, collapsing face-first toward the floor.

"Hey! Don't sleep on the vomit!" I yelled, reaching down to hoist her up before she could ruin her clothes any further. "What the hell are you doing?!"

I dropped to one knee, grabbing her by the waist and shaking her shoulder with a bit more force. "Kianna. Wake up."

Nothing. A soft, rhythmic snore escaped her lips. She was completely out cold, oblivious to the absolute disaster she’d just orchestrated in my doorway.

The full stench of stale alcohol, bile, and bitter regret filled the small foyer. I exhaled a sharp breath through my nose, sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her easily against my chest. She was lighter than I remembered, her head rolling limply against my shoulder as I carried her into the bedroom, carefully avoiding the mess by the door.

"Still the same beautiful pain in the ass," I muttered under my breath, laying her down on the pristine white duvet. I pulled a spare blanket over her shoulders, looking down at her flushed, tear-stained cheeks. “How the hell did you let yourself get this wasted?”

The city outside was crawling with people who looked for exactly this kind of vulnerability after dark. If she had stumbled into any other room on this floor... I closed my eyes, a cold, sharp anger flaring in my gut at the thought.

A faint, broken murmur cut through the quiet room.

I leaned down closer to the pillow. Kianna’s brow was furrowed, her lips trembling as she turned her head into the fabric. "How could you treat me like this?..." she whispered, her voice cracking in her sleep. "Please... don't leave me..."

My jaw clenched so hard the muscles in my temple throbbed.

She was grieving. Someone had systematically dismantled her, and the sheer weight of that realization felt like a physical weight on my chest. A dark, ugly guilt twisted in my stomach. 'What if I hadn't walked away eight years ago? What if I hadn't let my own pride dictate our terms? Would she be lying here like this now?'

I reached out, my thumb gently tracing the line of her jaw, clearing a stray lock of dark hair from her damp cheek.

Kianna Myst Saavedra. I wasn't going to let the door close a second time. I wasn't letting her slip through my fingers again. If she'd let me, I'd spend every day showing her what real security felt like.

...

Kianna

The morning sun didn't just rise; it shattered through the window like a physical blow, drilling straight into the center of my skull. I groaned, the sound catching in my dry, sandpaper throat as I forced my eyelids open. The room was spinning in a slow, sickening tilt, the upscale furniture and white walls blurring together like a watercolor painting left out in the rain.

Everything ached. My sinuses throbbed in time with my racing pulse, and a sharp, metallic taste coated the back of my tongue.

'Where the hell am I?'

This wasn't my apartment. The thread count on the sheets was too high, the glossy hardwood floors too perfect, the heavy mahogany dressers looking like they belonged in a luxury lifestyle magazine.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, the sudden movement making my stomach lurch violently. I waited a beat for the room to stabilize, then slid my legs over the edge of the mattress, shuffling toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky outside was a brilliant, blinding gold, soft white clouds drifting lazily over the city skyline. It looked peaceful.

My own mind, however, was a war zone.

I rubbed my palms over my face, trying to force the tangled pieces of the previous night into some sort of logical order. The condo. My fiancé. My sister. The bottle of wine. The endless, identical hotel hallways. And then—

A violent jolt of adrenaline shot through my veins, clearing the fog instantly. The stranger from last night. The tall, dark silhouette in the doorway. The vomit.

A sharp, terrified shriek tore from my throat before I could stop it, the sound echoing loudly off the high ceiling. "What the hell happened to me?!"

"You're awake," a calm, deep voice responded from the adjacent doorway.

I whipped my head around, my breath catching as I frantically yanked the heavy duvet all the way up to my chin.

A man stood by the bathroom door, completely unbothered by my screaming. Strands of wet hair clung to his forehead, dark droplets of water sliding down the line of his neck and dripping onto the hardwood. He was wearing nothing but a white hotel towel slung precariously low on his hips, his broad shoulders and defined chest glistening with moisture from a fresh shower.

My brain completely short-circuited. 'Who does this? Who just strolls out half-naked in front of a woman who clearly looks like she's having a medical emergency?'

Even through the sheer panic, my eyes unhelpfully registered the sharp jawline and the lean, athletic build. But the shock overrode the view within a fraction of a second.

"You wretch!" I yelled, my fingers gripping the edge of the blanket until my knuckles turned white. "What the hell did you do to me?!"

He didn't blink. He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step toward the bed.

"Stay back!" I barked, scooting away until my back hit the heavy wooden headboard, wrapping the duvet around myself like a makeshift suit of armor. My hands were shaking, a volatile mix of hangover nausea and pure fury vibrating under my skin.

The man—Ares—stopped, a small, mildly amused expression flickering in his eyes. "Relax. We just—" He paused, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck as his voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

My eyes went wide. "We 'what'?!"

I looked down beneath the covers, realized my clothes were completely missing, and felt the last bit of blood drain from my face. "My clothes... where are my clothes? Oh my God. I'm calling the police! You're a disgusting, opportunistic creep!"

Ares let out a long, slow exhale, his shoulders dropping as if he were dealing with a difficult child. "Look," he said, raising both hands to show his palms. "You were completely wasted last night. You stumbled into my room, threw up all over my entryway, and passed out cold before you even hit the floor. I didn't touch you. If you don't believe me, go down to the front desk and ask for the hallway footage. It's all on HD camera."

The words cut through my panic like ice water.

I froze, the anger dying in my throat as a horrible, cold weight settled in my chest. 'I... broke into his room? I threw up on his floor?' The hazy memory of slipping in the foyer suddenly locked into place.

Before I could construct an apology, Ares cleared his throat, his expression shifting into something intensely serious.

"Still, I shouldn't have made decisions about your clothes without your permission. I'm sorry for that," he said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "I'm not the kind of man who takes advantage of a situation. I want to take responsibility for what happened."

I blinked, completely lost. "Responsibility?"

He took another step closer, a sudden, confident smile breaking across his face as if he were discussing a casual business merger over breakfast. "So... let's get married."

The silence that followed was absolute.

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for the punchline that never came. "I'm sorry—what did you just say? You want to 'marry' me? Are you completely out of your mind?!"

The smooth confidence suddenly cracked. A visible bead of sweat broke out along Ares' temple, and his posture stiffened as his chest heaved with a sharp intake of air.

"I—I mean..." he stammered, his fingers twitching at his side as he struggled to regain his footing. "I'm a man who handles his obligations. I can... I will protect you." He closed his eyes for a split second, his jaw tightening as if arguing with himself, before he locked his gaze directly back onto mine.

"Will you marry me?"