Chapter 4

NYLA

The mahogany doors of my father’s office clicked shut behind me. The air in here always smelled the same. 

Expensive cigars and old paper.

My father, Nolan, didn't look up from his desk. He simply tapped his gold fountain pen against a stack of legal documents.

"Nineteen minutes, Nyla," he murmured, finally lifting his gaze. "You're cutting it close. I suppose the King boy is proving to be quite the distraction."

"What do you want, Dad?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, despite the panic rising inside my chest. 

"Are the rumors true? Is your husband cheating on you?" He narrowed his eyes at me. To everyone else, he might sound like a concerned father, but the chill in his eyes said otherwise. 

"No, Aeron would never cheat on me," I said, looking into his eyes. 

"Did you sign the papers?" He asked, his hands balling into fists.

"No," I whispered, forcing a smile on my face. "I managed to change his mind," I lied through my teeth. 

"Good. A divorce scandal would tarnish our reputation, our legacy. You don't want to be the reason for my downfall, do you, darling?"

"No, of course not," I said, nervously gulping. 

"That being said, I need you to do something for me," he announced into the silence of his office. 

"What do you need me to do?"

He clasped his hands together before leaning back in his chair. "I need copies of the new King collection designs by tomorrow. Can you do that for me?"

"What?" I questioned in disbelief. "You want me to steal the designs and send them to you? Absolutely not," I shook my head in disagreement. 

"I wasn't asking, Nyla," he said, his voice becoming dangerously. "If you don't do this for me, I will go to the press and tell them how you married that boy for his money."

"I didn't marry him for money. You sold me to the Kings. I never wanted to get married. But you didn't care. All you cared about was the money," I said, getting up from my chair. 

Right at that moment, the door swung open behind us, revealing my older brother. 

"Nyla?" He uttered, pulling me into a tight hug. "I didn't know you were coming over. Did you drive here yourself?" He questioned in concern. 

"Yes," I nodded before stepping out of my dad's office. 

Nevan wrapped his arm around my shoulder while fixing his tie. "What were you and Dad talking about? It seemed pretty serious."

"Nothing important," I said, wrapping my arm around his waist. "What have you been up to lately?" 

"I got promoted," he grinned. "Say hello to the new COO of Storm Designs."

"Congratulations," I said, pulling him into a tight hug. 

"Thanks. We should get together sometime and celebrate. We haven't been to Storm Resort in months. I'll discuss it with Aeron," he informed me, and I just stood there, mouth agape. 

"Storm Resort?" I questioned in disbelief. 

"We deserve a break, don't you think. Anyway, I gotta go, see you soon," he mumbled before speed-walking down the hallway. Idiot. 

I made my way outside and drove home in silence.

Memories of my wedding day flashed through my mind. 

My father sold me to the Kings for shares in one of their smaller companies.

He didn't care about my happiness. He didn't care that I was begging him for months to let me get a divorce. To let me come home. 

Eventually, I stopped begging, stopped resenting Aeron. I can't remember the exact moment I fell in love with him. But I did.

In the beginning, all I wanted was a divorce. Now, I wish I could go back and make him fall just as hard as I did. 

I don't know when it started raining, but when I parked my car in the lot in front of the mansion, Smithers was already waiting for me with an umbrella in hand. 

"Welcome home, Mrs. King," he kindly greeted me. 

"Thank you, Smithers. Is Aeron still at the office?" I carefully questioned. 

"Mr. King didn't go to the office today. He's in his study," Smithers explained while walking me to the door. 

Shit.

"I made soup, would you like some?" He asked as we entered the house together. 

"Later, Smithers," I uttered before sneaking my way upstairs. 

I soundlessly passed Aeron's study and slipped into our bedroom. I shut the door behind me, tiredly staring up at the ceiling. My eyes slowly fluttered shut. 

Then, two hands landed on my waist. 

His fingers pressed into the thin fabric of my dress and my eyes flew open to find Aeron standing there. 

"Where did you go, Nyla?"

His voice was low, a quiet rumble that vibrated through his palms and into my bones. I tried to step back, but his grip tightened, holding me in place against the closed door.

"I went… out. I needed some air. I went for a drive," I forced a casual shrug, but my heart was pounding hard against my ribcage. 

A slow, humorless smile touched his lips. "A drive. To your father’s office."

All the air left my lungs. He knew.

"You had me followed," I whispered, the betrayal twisting in my gut. 

"I protect what’s mine," his thumb stroked a slow, deliberate circle over my hip bone. "Now, tell me the truth. Why were you there?"

Panic and something darker coiled inside me. I couldn’t tell him about the designs. I couldn’t drag him into my father’s filth. 

"We had a… a family discussion. About Nevan’s promotion. That’s all."

"Liar," the word was a soft caress. He leaned in, his body crowding mine against the solid wood. 

I could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat radiating from him. 

The scent of him, cedarwood and clean, male skin, filled my senses. 

 "Your pulse is racing right here," he lifted a hand, his fingertips brushing the frantic beat at the base of my throat. "Your eyes won’t hold mine. You’re a terrible liar, Nyla."

"And you’re a tyrant," I shot back, anger masking the want that was becoming impossible to ignore. "I’m not your prisoner."

"Aren’t you?" He dipped his head, his mouth hovering a breath from mine. "You belong to me. In every way that matters, Nyla."

His gaze dropped to my mouth. I saw the hunger in his eyes, a starving need that mirrored my own. 

One of his hands slid from my waist to the small of my back, pressing me flush against him. 

I gasped at the contact, at the unmistakable ridge of his erection straining against his trousers. It pressed against my lower stomach. 

My own body answered instantly, a hot pulse of desire spreading between my thighs.

"Aeron…" His name was a plea, a protest. I didn’t know which.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his lips brushing my earlobe. "Tell me you don’t want this."

I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t form. All I could think about was the feel of him against me. 

Suddenly, he stopped.

He went utterly still. The hand on my back clenched, the fabric of my dress twisting in his fist.

He didn’t pull away. He held us there.

"Until you decide to trust me with the truth, this…" He shifted, grinding that hard length against me once, making me whimper. "This doesn’t happen."

He pushed himself back before straightening his jacket. 

"Dinner is at eight," he said, his tone now cold, as if discussing the weather. "Don’t be late."

He turned and walked out of our bedroom, leaving me slumped against the door, my body humming with unmet need.