(Aria's POV)
The smirk.
I couldn't breathe after seeing it. That faint, deliberate curl of Leo's lips cut through me like a blade—a silent reminder that he knew. He knew everything, and worse, he knew I knew. My whole body went rigid behind my desk, fingers clenching the keyboard's edge as if holding on could keep me from unraveling.
The office buzzed around me—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, whispered gossip threading the air. Some were dazzled by the new CEO's arrival, others already panicking about what his leadership might mean for their jobs. But for me? It meant the ground had opened beneath my feet.
He should've been nothing more than a reckless memory. A mistake. A man whose name I hadn't even asked, whose number I didn't want, whose voice still haunted me in the shower hours later.
And now he stood at the center of my workplace, commanding the room with a single glance. My boss. My CEO. The stranger I'd sworn I would never see again.
I kept my head down during the staff meeting, not daring to look up as introductions were made. His voice washed over me like smoke—low, steady, authoritative. Every syllable dragged me back to the hotel suite, to the moment his breath had brushed my ear and branded me.
"You're already mine."
No. Stop.
I dug my nails into my palm beneath the desk, forcing the memory away. By the time the meeting ended, my nerves were frayed. People crowded around him—shaking hands, offering congratulations, desperate to impress. I slipped out as quietly as I could, hugging my folder to my chest like it might shield me.
If I could just stay invisible, maybe this nightmare would pass.
But his eyes followed me. I felt them burn into my back as I left the room.
The rest of the day crawled. Every email, every phone call blurred into noise. I typed nonsense into reports, erased it, started again. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. Clara asked once if I was sick—I lied and said I hadn't slept. She bought it, thank God.
But every time the elevator dinged, I flinched. Every time footsteps approached my desk, my chest tightened. I lived in constant dread that he would stop in front of me, lean down, and say something that would undo me completely.
He never did.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because the silence stretched. Because every hour, I wondered if he was waiting for me to break first.
By the time evening fell, I thought maybe I'd survived the day. I packed up slowly, double-checking every drawer like stalling might change my fate. Then, as I stepped outside, the city greeted me with its usual chaos—horns blaring, engines humming, neon lights bleeding color into the dusk.
My phone buzzed in my bag.
At first, I thought it was Clara or my mother. But when I pulled it out, my stomach dropped so fast I nearly tripped on the sidewalk.
A notification.
Trending news.
I froze, eyes darting to the headline sprawled across the screen:
"Mystery Woman Spotted Leaving Blackwell Hotel Suite — Who Is She?"
The blood drained from my face. My heart thudded violently against my ribs.
No. No, no, no.
I opened the article with shaking fingers. There it was—a grainy, zoomed-in photograph of me slipping out of the hotel's back entrance. My coat pulled tight, hair messy, heels clutched in my hand. My face wasn't clear, but it was me.
The caption beneath read:
"Sources claim the woman was seen hours before new CEO Leo Blackwell's arrival. Is she the secret lover behind the empire's heir?"
My vision tunneled. The screen blurred. The street around me swayed like it might collapse.
They couldn't know. They couldn't.
But of course they did. The city thrived on gossip, and Leo Blackwell wasn't just anyone. He was a name that filled boardrooms and headlines—a man people loved to speculate about. And now I had become part of the speculation.
Panic clawed at my throat. My phone buzzed again—Clara this time.
"Girl, check the news. Tell me that's not you."
I shoved the phone into my bag, chest heaving. My legs carried me blindly toward the subway, though I couldn't have said where I was going. My apartment? His office? Somewhere I could bury myself so no one would ever see me again?
By the time I reached my building, I was shaking so badly I dropped my keys twice before getting the door open. I slammed it shut behind me and slid down to the floor, gasping like I'd run a marathon.
My phone rang again—Clara. Then my mother. Then Clara again. I turned it face down and pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to block out the spinning world.
It wasn't supposed to matter. One night wasn't supposed to matter. But now… now it threatened to take everything.
My job. My family's respect. My reputation.
Everything.
I didn't even remember deciding to go. But the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of Blackwell Tower, its glass walls glittering like a fortress against the night. My reflection stared back at me in the doors—pale, wide-eyed, broken.
The receptionist looked startled when I demanded to see him. My voice cracked, but I didn't care. Somehow, a call was made. Somehow, an elevator opened.
And then I was there.
His office was sleek and sprawling, floor-to-ceiling windows casting the city in miniature below. He stood with his back to me, jacket discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up. Calm. Controlled. Like none of this touched him.
"Leo." My voice shook.
He turned slowly, one brow raised. "Aria."
My knees nearly gave out at the sound of my name on his lips.
"Do something," I blurted, clutching the strap of my bag like a lifeline. "The news—those pictures—it's not what they think. Please, you have to deny it."
He studied me in silence, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, each one syncing with my heartbeat.
"Why," he asked softly, "would I deny the truth?"
I flinched. "The truth? It was a mistake—one night, that's all. I can't—my family, my job—I'll lose everything!"
His hand brushed the edge of my chin, tilting it upward until his gaze locked with mine. The weight of it pressed down, suffocating. Intoxicating.
"You're afraid of losing everything," he murmured. "But what if I told you I never intended to let you go?"
My stomach twisted. I tried to pull back, but his hand lingered—his touch deceptively gentle for words so cruel.
"This isn't a game," I whispered.
"It never was." His lips curved, faint and knowing. "You were mine from the moment you stepped into that hotel."
Anger flared through my fear, hot and desperate. "You don't get to decide that. I don't belong to you."
His smirk deepened, but there was no humor in it. "Don't I?"
I shook my head violently, stepping back until my spine hit the glass wall. The city sprawled beneath me—dizzying, endless.
"You're insane," I spat.
"Maybe." He leaned in, bracing one hand against the window near my head. His voice dropped—silk over steel. "But insanity has its benefits. Like clarity. I don't waste time chasing what I already own."
My chest heaved. "What do you want from me?"
His gaze flicked over my trembling frame, lingering on my lips before returning to my eyes. For a long, terrible moment, he said nothing. Then finally—
"Marriage."
The word hit harder than any slap.
I stared at him, wide-eyed, shaking my head before the meaning even sank in. "You—you can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious." His tone was calm, merciless. "Not love. Not choice. Marriage."
The city spun beneath me. My pulse roared in my ears.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I realized he hadn't ruined me by accident.
He had planned this. From the very start.