Chapter Three

Annika’s POV

It is a twisted ankle. Or at least, that’s what the doctor said a while ago when he was in here with me. 

I have been through so much pain this last hour, but it is nothing compared to the one that hits each time I think about the fact that Ares made me apologize to his whore. 

“Don’t tell me you are thinking about Ares again?” Vivienne, my best friend, says as she waltzes into the room, a box in one hand. “You should focus on getting better.”

“When did the doctor say I can leave again?”

 “Annika!”

“You don’t understand, Vivienne,” I murmur, shaking my head. “My husband needs me. He might not act like it, but I know he does. I know he is in there somewhere. Maybe this is a test to see how much I can endure for him.”

“Can you hear yourself?” she asks in disbelief, placing the box on the table. “You just had your ankle reset. He should have been the one with you, holding your hand through it all after his little wench pushed you to the ground. But where is he, Annika?”

"Maybe she needed his help as well," I whisper, every reasonable part of me knowing how wrong I am. But I cannot have my best friend think of Ares as a devil. My mother used to tell me that every marriage has its ups and downs.

Maybe this is mine. 

Vivienne scoffs, her lips parting open. "Annika, this doesn't make any sense, and I know you know it too. Your husband parades a million and one girls in front of you, he treats you like you don't exist in private, and when you are out, he expects you to act in a certain way."

“That isn’t a marriage. It is torture!”

"You don't know him as well as I do, Vivienne. You were not there when he told me he loved me, when he asked me to believe him even if he stopped showing it. This will pass. I am certain of it. Maybe he is just going through so much at the office that…."

“Can you please stop with the maybes?” Vivienne snaps, her eyes growing more intense. “I can’t watch this. I got you food. Eat and rest.”

She picks up her bag and walks to the door.

“Where are you going?”

"I have to work, Annika. And I will prefer answering to some chauvinistic boss that being here, listening to you talk about a man who hates you, because Ares does."

I refuse to listen to Vivienne, allowing her to walk out the door. With her gone, I slide out of the bed, my carefully bandaged ankle restricting my movement a notch.

But I know I need to be home. Ares has asked all the housekeepers to go on a mandatory break, and that means someone needs to take care of things back there. 

When I drop to the floor, the door swings open, and a man in a white lab coat saunters in. He takes in the scene in under a few seconds. 

"Mrs. Brooker, you can't leave just yet. You are going to put too much strain on that ankle, so I advise you to return to bed."

"It's fine." I let an easy chuckle slide from my lips. "Ares is outside. He couldn't come in because he's taking a call, but he'll be with me the whole time. There's nothing to worry about."

The doctor doesn’t seem to believe me with how he peers his eyes in my direction, but he lets me go, asking me to pick up the discharge papers at the front desk. Vivienne has settled the bills.

Dragging my limp ankle behind me and holding the food Vivienne brought, I make my way out of the grand doors of the hospital. I can feel the doctor's eyes at the back of my head, especially when I stop at the other side of the door.

Ares always says the one thing he has is his reputation, and that I should do nothing to ruin it. So, I look at both sides of the driveway like I am expecting someone, hoping to keep it up until the doctor gives up.

But a car suddenly stops in front of me. A man in dark shades and a suit steps out and walks around the car, opening the back door for me.

I don't recognize him, and that is saying something since I know all of Ares' men. He doesn't let me work, so rather than let my brain rot, I take my time memorizing faces and names of all the members of his staff.

Still grateful that Ares did not make me embarrass myself in front of the hospital, I get into the car.

"How did Ares know where to find me?" I ask, settling comfortably in the leather seat. Did Ares buy a new car, too?

The man looks at me from the rearview mirror. "Who is Ares?"

I stop. “My husband. Mr. Brooker. He sent you, right?”

“My boss sent me, ma’am, and I am certain his name isn’t Mr. Brooker.”

He turns to a corner, heading for Ares' mansion.

“I don’t understand,” I murmur, scooting to the edge of the seat. “Who is your boss? Why did he send you?”

“Your ankle, ma’am,” he answers in a clipped tone, like he can do better without me bugging him with questions. 

But this is strange. 

And then, I remember the man from yesterday. 

“Is your Boss…”

"We are here, ma'am," the man says, getting out from behind the wheel. He opens the door and lets me out, too, nodding his head in acknowledgment before getting back into the car and zooming away, leaving me with more questions than before. 

I drag my feet with me into the mansion, the empty hallways reminding me of the mountain load of duties I have waiting for me.

But when I step inside the living area, the sight that greets me knocks the wind out of me.