5: Mireya’s Savior

AUDEN

I was driving through the crowded streets, my hands loose on the steering wheel of my SUV, when a flash of familiar dark hair caught my attention. It was Mireya. And right next to her, gripping her forearm in a alleyway entrance, was her shithead boyfriend, Phills.

They were quarreling, and it didn't look good at all. His face was flushed with anger, his mouth moving in sharp, aggressive bursts as he shoved his phone directly in front of her face. Mireya yanked her arm back, her posture rigid, her chin tilted up defensively despite the obvious panic in her eyes.

I should have minded my business. I should have pressed my foot onto the gas pedal and driven straight to my next  meeting. She was a young woman dealing with boyfriend drama, and I was a man with an empire to run. But the raw, unyielding memory of her skin beneath my hands from the night before flashed behind my eyes.

I parked my car abruptly at the curb, threw the door open, and walked straight toward them, seeing and hearing everything as I closed the distance.

"—you think I'm an idiot, Mireya?" Phills was shouting, his voice echoing. "Ysa said you were hiding out at her place, but you didn't answer me. Who the hell were you actually with?"

"Is there a problem here?" I asked.

Both of them spun around instantly. The moment Phills recognized me, the arrogant, tough-guy smirk completely vanished from his face. He gulped hard, his chest heaving as he took a frantic step back from Mireya.

"M-Mr. Rothwell," Phills stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted around the alley. "Sir. No problem at all. We were just... we were just having a private discussion."

I stepped into his personal space, my towering frame completely blocking his view of Mireya. I looked down at him with contempt.

"It didn't sound like a discussion," I stated, my voice dangerously low. "It sounded like a threat. Tell me, Phills, if I threatened to make you lose your job at your father's firm today, how exactly would you feel?"

Phills went entirely pale, his knees visibly shaking. "I... I apologize, Mr. Rothwell. Truly. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just stressed."

"If I ever see you put your hands on her again, a lost job will be the least of your concerns," I warned him. "Get out of my sight."

"Yes, sir. Of course," he muttered, turning on his heel and practically sprinting down the street.

I stood there for a beat, forcing my breathing to steady. I intentionally ignored Mireya, turning my back on her as I walked straight back toward my parked SUV. I didn't need this. I couldn't afford this. But as I reached the driver's side, I heard the hurried, rhythmic click of her heels  behind me. I ignored it, pulling open my door.

I entered my car, sliding into the driver's seat, but before I could even pull the door shut, the passenger side clicked open. Mireya slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind her and locking out the sound of the city traffic.

I turned my head and looked at her. Her wide, desperate eyes locked directly onto mine... gosh. What the hell did she think she was doing? The lingering effects of the previous night seemed to charge the air inside the vehicle, turning the small cabin into a pressure cooker of tension.

I tried to focus my mind. I swear, I really did… but it didn’t work.

"What are you doing inside my car, Mireya?" I asked, my voice tight and devoid of emotion. "Get out."

"Are you seriously going to do this right now?" she demanded, shifting in her seat to face me completely. "Are you just going to pretend like last night never happened? Like you don't remember?"

"There is nothing to discuss," I snapped, staring straight through the windshield.

"Stop lying to yourself, Auden!" she cried, using my first name for the very first time, the sound of it sending a jolt straight down my spine.

“Mr. Rothwell.” I corrected.

"You know exactly what happened. You know Ysa gave me that Lust Drug. You know she tried to force your butler on me in that locked room."

In my head, I was trying everything in my power to hold myself back. The raw, unfiltered memory of her screaming my name hit me like a punch to the gut. That night we spent together was one of the best nights of my life, a primal, unyielding release that I hadn't experienced in decades.

Hearing her mention the butler sent a sudden wave of protectiveness crashing through my chest. If I hadn't slept with her, my butler would have? The thought of another man touching her, of that disgusting trap succeeding, provoked a rage inside me. I wanted to find Thomas and break him apart with my bare hands.

But I blinked the thought away, forcing my discipline to override my possessiveness. I couldn't let her see how much she affected me. She was too young. More importantly, she was Ysa's best friend.

"I told you to drop it, Mireya," I said, my voice dropping into a stern, unyielding voice. "Ysa is permanently grounded, and I fired my butler this morning. The situation has been dealt with legally and internally."

She let out a breathy, bitter laugh, leaning back against the headrest. "So you do remember. You didn't forget a single thing."

I turned my upper body toward her. I needed to crush this spark before it ruined both of our lives.

"Listen to me very carefully," I warned her, as I locked onto her gaze. "Do not bring this up ever again. It was a mistake, Mireya. You were  drugged, and I was horny, and that combination resulted in a big error. It was a mistake. You are my daughter's best friend."

"Ysabel is no longer my best friend!" she corrected sharply, her voice cracking with emotion. "She tried to ruin my life! She is a monster, and I am done protecting her!"

She looked completely desperate, her chest heaving as she stared at me, practically begging me with her eyes to take back the word mistake. The vulnerability radiating off her was intoxicating, but I had to be the adult in the room. I had to draw the line.

"How old are you, Mireya?" I asked coldly.

Of course I knew her age. I had known her since she was a child running around my estate with my daughter. But I just wanted to make something entirely clear to her, to strip away the romantic illusion she was building in her head.

She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper. "Eighteen."

"And I am forty," I stated, the numbers hanging between us.

She gulped, her eyes widening slightly as the gap between our worlds was laid bare.

I wanted her to feel the weight of my authority and the finality of my decision. "I’m old enough to be your father, Mireya," I murmured. "What happened in that room last night... I assure you, it will never happen again."