The Wrong Bride: Ares and Raven’s Story (The Windsors)

I’m in a daze as Ares shows around. Until today, I’d only ever seen his living room and kitchen. His home is very similar in size to Sierra’s, but his layout is entirely different. Sierra’s is mostly open plan, while Ares seems to have a lot of different types of rooms.

I can see my sister’s influence all over the place, and it feels strange. It makes it even more obvious that everything here was meant to be Hannah’s. I suppose in many ways, it all still is. He still is.

Even the cinema room he’s got was no doubt built to watch private screenings of Hannah’s movies. The love he has for her is evident in every nook and cranny of the place I’ll be forced to call home.

“I like my privacy, so I don’t enjoy having staff around. My housekeeper and chef come in during the day, when I’m at work, so they won’t really bother you. You won’t see them at all. I’ll show you how to download the app the entire family uses later. You may have seen Sierra use it before. If you need anything at all, just send a request through the app and it’ll get done, whether it be groceries or painting the walls. We have an entire team of butlers that know how to get nearly anything done.”

I nod as I follow along. “This is the last room. It’s my bedroom,” he says. “I suppose it’s ours now, actually.”

He holds the door open for me, and I follow him in reluctantly, my stomach twisting. It’s clear that he shares a lot of memories with Hannah in this place, and that’ll be even more the case in his bedroom.

Ares runs a hand through his hair and inhales deeply, his gaze roaming over the room he thought he’d share with my sister.

I’ve never been in his bedroom before, and just standing here feels like an invasion of privacy. Ares hesitantly turns toward me, his gaze apologetic. “Your suitcases were delivered earlier today. You should find everything you need in the dressing room. Let me show you.”

I nod and follow him, pausing at the sight of the vanity filled with my sister’s favorite products. A dull ache spreads from my heart, and I wrap my arms around myself protectively. For years, this is the room he shared with Hannah. This is where she’d stay when she came over, and from what I can see, that was quite often.

Ares follows my gaze and freezes. “I…” He cups the back of his neck, his gaze contrite. “I wasn’t thinking, Raven. It was all so sudden. Until this morning, I was hoping… I haven’t had a chance—”

I shake my head and place my hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” I tell him, steeling myself before I look up at him. “But you should know that I don’t want her hand-me-downs. I don’t want to be surrounded by the remains of your relationship with her. Our marriage might not be a conventional one, but I’d still like to ask you for a basic level of respect. I won’t live in her shadow throughout our entire marriage.”

“Of course,” he says, his voice soft. “I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll have her things packed up and delivered to her. How about that?”

I nod and look away, my heart aching. I wish I could tell him the full truth — that I don’t want to be reminded of how much he loves her, of the life he expected to build with her. I wish I could tell him to look at me and truly see me, just once.

Instead, I inhale shakily and walk toward the mirror, pausing in front of it. “I’m exhausted, and I honestly just want to go to bed.” I don’t have it in me to keep up the facade. “Can you help me with the buttons on the back?”

Ares walks up to me and stands behind me, his eyes on mine through the mirror. His touch is gentle as he pushes my hair over my shoulder, exposing the long row of buttons on my wedding dress. Even the dress I’m wearing tonight isn’t mine. I designed this for Hannah. It’s almost as though I’m stealing everything that used to be hers, and it doesn’t feel right.

Ares hesitates for a moment before unbuttoning the top button on my dress, a tormented expression on his face. He is no doubt thinking of Hannah, and how amazing she would have looked in this. What expression would he be wearing if it was Hannah standing in front of him tonight?

He pauses halfway through and looks up, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “How far do you want me to unbutton this?”

I force a smile onto my face and try my hardest to pretend that my heart isn’t racing, that I’m not affected by his touch. What does he see when he looks at me? Does a small part of him find me attractive at all?

“All the way,” I murmur. “The fabric is quite delicate, so I don’t want to damage it by trying to undo the buttons myself.”

He nods and tears his gaze away, refocusing on his task. Doesn’t he feel a single thing as he undresses me? The way he kissed me during the ceremony allowed me to pretend that our wedding wasn’t a farce, but the coldness he treated me with afterward took away any hope he’d inadvertently given me.

A shiver runs down my spine as his fingers brush against my skin, and I let my eyes fall closed for a moment, pretending tonight isn’t pure torment for him. In my fantasies, Ares wants me as much as I want him, his thoughts filled with nothing but me.

If things had been different between us, would he have laid me down on his bed, his touch impatient and heated? Instead of the carefulness he’s handling me with, would he be rough and frantic, the way he was so many years ago?

Ares takes his time unbuttoning my dress, until the back falls open. I expected him to step away, but instead he wraps his hands around my shoulders. I glance at him through the mirror to find him looking at me in a way he never has before. His eyes meet mine, and for a single second, I could’ve sworn I saw lust in them. What would he do if I turned around now and kissed him? I’m terrified of what might happen once Hannah realizes that I truly married Ares in her stead. The moment she comes back and asks for his forgiveness, my chance of making this marriage work will be gone.

I twirl around and place my hands against his chest, a fear I’ve never felt before dictating my moves. “Ares,” I whisper.

It’s almost as though my voice makes him snap out of the daze he was in, because he takes a step away from me and runs a hand through his hair. “Go to bed without me,” he says, his voice firm.

I nod, my thoughts whirling as he walks away. I suppose he’s trying to give me privacy, but that isn’t what I want.

I once told one of my close friends that if I ever thought I had a chance with the man I love, I’d give it my all, and I’d fight dirty if I have to. This is it. This is my chance.