The interior of the armored Maybach was completely silent, save for the soft hum of the tires against the wet asphalt.
Clara sat rigidly on the plush leather seat, her fingers anxiously playing with the edge of her deep emerald-green evening gown. The silk fabric cascaded perfectly over her figure, paired with a subtle, yet breathtaking diamond necklace that Ares had casually handed her twenty minutes before they departed.
"You are going to wear a hole through that silk if you keep fidgeting, Mrs. Valerius," Ares murmured.
Clara looked across the cabin. Ares sat in his tailored, midnight-black tuxedo. He looked impossibly handsome, exuding a dark, regal authority that completely eclipsed the wheelchair locked into the floorboard beside him.
"I am not fidgeting," Clara denied, immediate
