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Chapter Fifty-Six
ARES
I lean back on our new sofa, feeling at home in my own house for the first time in years. It took us a
few months, but we’ve made this our home, down to every last detail. Spending my weekends
shopping for decoration has been far more fun that I ever thought it could be. Being with someone
who actually values my opinion and doesn’t always want to get her way has been insanely refreshing.
I sigh as I stare at the clock in the living room. The only thing that’s missing tonight is Raven.
She’s been working late every night this week. If she isn’t shooting some campaign, she’s working on
her fashion designs or accompanying Grandma and Sierra to their countless charity functions. She’s
the hardest working woman I’ve ever met, and fuck, I’m proud of her… but I miss her too.
I grab my phone and scroll through her Instagram pictures, just to catch another glimpse of her,
and it only takes me three seconds to get pissed off at all the comments men are leaving under her
photos. Fucking assholes. Don’t they know she’s married?
I grit my teeth and navigate to my own account. I don’t manage it myself, and my team mostly
posts about movie productions we’re funding, with the odd Windsor family event thrown in to give
me a more human touch. I’ve never had any interest in it. Even though I work in the media industry,
I’ve always found social media toxic. Lately, though… I’ve definitely taken more of an interest in my
social media accounts since I married Raven, and the press has had a field day with me because of it.
Each time I post a photo of us, it ends up going viral.
I smirk and pull up my favorite photo of my wife. It’s one of the first ones I took of her, the one
where she’s sleeping, her shoulders exposed. It’s an obvious post-sex photo, but I don’t give a fuck.
It’s my intention to lay my claim, after all.
I smirk as I upload the photo and caption it with two words: my wife.
I’m still chuckling when I hear the front door open. Raven smiles the moment she sees me, and I
meet her halfway, kissing her far rougher than I probably should have. I love how she always instantly
wraps her arms around me, no matter where we are or who’s watching. The way she responds to me
is never dictated by the people that surround us.
“Hey... why are you smiling like that?”
“Check your Instagram. I tagged you in a post.” Her eyes roam over my face, and she tilts her head
suspiciously.
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