CHAPTER FOUR: Let me make you forget.

Aaron’s POV

“Tell me to leave,” I said, my voice lower and rougher than I intended.

Camila’s breath hitched. Her dark eyes were wide, still glistening with the tears she’d shed on the upper deck, but something else had overtaken the pain. She didn’t push me away. Instead, her fingers curled tighter into my jacket, silently pulling me closer.

That was all the permission I needed.

I crashed my mouth down on hers, hard and demanding, backing her against the suite door. The hallway was quiet, the chaos from the main deck a distant hum. She tasted like whiskey and salt from her tears, and beneath that, something sweet and addictive. My hand gripped her waist, sliding down to her hip as I pressed my body into hers.

What the hell are you doing, Aaron? I thought to myself.

I had come to this yacht tonight for one reason only—to watch my rivals make a spectacle of themselves. Laurent Holdings was getting too bold, and the Stones family was the perfect weak link I planned to exploit.

I hadn’t come for her.

But from the moment Camila Stones stepped onto the main deck in that ivory gown, I hadn’t been able to look away. She was breathtaking — graceful, quiet, yet carrying herself with a poise that felt refined and fragile at the same time. I watched her smile through conversations that clearly bored her. I watched Alex treat her like a business asset. And I watched her shatter everything in one fiery public moment.

She had fire. Real fire.

When she seized the microphone and called off the engagement in front of every powerful name in the city, something shifted in me. Most women in her position would have crumbled in private. She burned it all down instead.

I followed her to the upper deck because I wanted to see what she’d do with all that pain. Now I was going to take it from her.

She moaned softly into my mouth as I deepened the kiss, my tongue stroking hers with slow, deliberate hunger. Her hands moved up to my shoulders, then into my hair, tugging just hard enough to send heat straight through me. I could feel her heart hammering against my chest.

I broke the kiss only to trail my mouth along her jaw, then down the line of her neck.

“You should hate me for this,” I murmured against her skin. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“I don’t care,” she gasped, voice trembling. “Please… just make it stop hurting.”

Fuck.

I shoved the door open and guided her inside, kicking it closed behind us. The suite was beautifully designed — soft lighting, warm tones, every detail carefully chosen. It smelled like her perfume, light and intoxicating.

She pulled me down for another kiss, this one more urgent. I backed her toward the large bed, my hands exploring her curves. The satin dress whispered under my palms as I ran them down her sides. When my fingers brushed the bare skin of her back, she shivered beautifully.

I wanted her. Badly.

As I lowered her onto the edge of the bed and leaned over her, fragments of everything she had told me on the deck replayed in my mind—catching her fiancé with her sister, her family’s cold betrayal, years of being the outsider who was never enough.

She was using me tonight to forget, to rebel, to feel something real.

And I was letting her—because the moment she had kissed me on the deck, something primal had woken up. I wasn’t a man who chased comfort or revenge fucks. I took what I wanted, on my terms. Yet here I was, rock hard and fighting every instinct to rip this dress off her and claim her completely.

I kissed her slower now, savoring the way her body arched into mine. My hand slid up her thigh, pushing the satin higher, feeling the smooth heat of her skin. She gasped when my fingers traced the edge of her lace panties.

“Alex never deserved this,” I said against her mouth, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “He never deserved you.”

Her breath caught.

For a second, pain flickered across her face again—the memory of what she’d seen tonight clearly hitting her. Then she pulled me back down, kissing me with renewed fire, as if trying to erase the image of him.

I let her take the lead for a moment, letting her push my jacket off my shoulders and tug at my tie. Her fingers trembled slightly as she worked on the buttons of my shirt. When her palms finally pressed against my bare chest, she made a soft, needy sound that nearly broke my restraint.

I groaned and rolled us so she straddled my lap, her dress pooling around her hips. My hands gripped her ass, pulling her down against my hard length. Even through layers of fabric, the contact was electric. She rocked against me instinctively, chasing more, her breathing ragged.

“Tell me what you want tonight, Camila,” I said, voice dark. My hand slid up her back, fingers finding the zipper of her dress. I pulled it down slowly, teasingly. “I want to hear you say it.”

She looked down at me, lips swollen, eyes glassy with desire and lingering hurt. “I want to forget,” she whispered. “Just for tonight.”

I flipped us again, pinning her beneath me on the bed. My mouth found her neck, then lower, kissing along the swell of her breasts as the dress loosened. She was exquisite—soft curves, flushed skin, the kind of beauty that made powerful men stupid.

My hand slipped between her thighs, stroking her over the lace. She was dripping wet, trembling at the lightest touch.

A low curse left me.

I wanted to taste her. I wanted to bury myself deep inside her and fuck every memory of Alex Laurent out of her body until the only name on her lips was mine.

But I held back.

I kissed her deeply again, fingers still teasing her through the fabric, bringing her closer to the edge but not pushing her over. She whimpered, hips rolling desperately against my hand.

“Stay with me tonight,” I murmured. “Let me make you forget.”

Her answer was another hungry kiss, her nails digging into my shoulders.

I didn’t know it then, but this woman was about to become the most dangerous complication in my life.

And I already didn’t want to let her go.