LOGINIt was 6am.
Aria hadn’t slept a wink. She had stayed up all night trying to formulate plans and each one ended in failure because of one irritating fact. She didn’t know enough about him to plot against him. The Griffin industries staff were going to receive a drilling in the next few weekss, at least until she got what she needed for a plan that would foil him. 6am meant getting Asher awake and ready for school while having enough playtime to not miss her baby too much for the rest of the day. She trudged to Asher’s room and gently opened the door. He wasn’t there. Her heart lurched and she darted down the hall, about to sprint upstairs when she saw them. Aston, and Asher. In the living room. She willed her heart to calm down in vain as she watched from behind one of the massive doors made of polished wood that blocked off the wings from the view of the living room. Aston was reading something from a folder on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, mirroring the regality of the renaissance painting of a king and his subjects behind him even though he was only in a soft looking cardigan and regular pants. He was also in reading glasses. Aria swallowed involuntarily, her heart beating fast for a completely different reason. He was not worthy of that face. There was no reason for a betrayer to look like he was carved out the statue of a greek god. She had to put significant mental effort to remove her eyes from him, but when it landed on her son she found herself even more unable to look away. In the presence of new people, Asher was a stone faced child. Her heart had shattered more than once upon hearing her baby called abrasive. But right now… He was stealing glances at Aston, and with each glance he adjusted his posture till his legs were also crossed, even though he was just eating and didn’t need to sit right. Her overworked heart calm down and swelled and she subconsciously placed her hand over it. He was so cute. So completely unlike Liam. The thought of Liam snapped her out of her adoration and she felt a migraine coming on. It had been a very taxing morning already, with her zero hours of sleep and roller coaster of emotions from fear to attraction to adoration and now irritation. Was this how life at home was going to be from now on? Not for the first time, she cursed at her grandfather in her head. Why did he get her married, to Aston of all people? Asher’s small eyes weren’t on the food in front of him. They were now trained on Aston. The sight made something twist in her gut. The atmosphere wasn’t bad, there was no shouting, nor threats, but it was strange. Like waking in a stranger’s house and finding your son comfortable there. Aria’s chest tightened. Last night’s words echoed in her head. “Asher is in my care. I expect us to be good parents.” Her throat went dry. She had to make sure Asher stayed away from him. She glanced at Aston again only for her heart rate to skyrocket as she gasped. He was staring straight at her, even though she was behind the doors and shrouded in darkness. His eyes were trained on hers like he could see her in clear detail. Her heart skipped several beats in fear but she forced herself to blink slow and stretch languidly, leaving her spot behind the doors and walking up to them. Like she had hallucinated, Aston’s eyes were trained on the folder again. What kind of mind games did he think he wanted to play with her? It made her skin prickle. He did mention that she could do whatever she wanted if she kept her mouth shut. She would make him regret that. Later. When she had time for him. Aria turned her head toward safer ground. “Good morning, Asher,” she murmured. Her son’s face lit up, his small hands reaching out. Oh how adorable! His face always made her forget her woes. “Good morning, Aria”, she heard Aston’s voice, the slight accent in his tone deeper and clearer, clear enough for her to realize there was some aspect of french in it. Of course. Beaumont. He gave french people a bad name. Asher’s hands slightly dropped from their high position and he glanced between Aria and Aston pointedly, as if telling Aria something. Aria felt her eye twitch. Her son certainly didn’t expect her to respond to Aston’s greeting, did he? He did. His pout and furrowed brows did nothing to abate his cuteness, but they did make her more irritated at herself. She had told him to always respond to a greeting, and now it was biting her in the ass. She smiled at Asher and turned around to tell Aston to have the day he deserve only to see that he was already looming behind her like a sentinel, his face devoid of expression. “Jeez, is it that important?”, she asked sarcastically, trying not to step away. He was trying to assert dominance – by God it was working – and she couldn’t let him win, not in front of her son. “Goo-“ Her words couldn’t come out anymore, her lungs ceased to take in air and her skin erupted in goosebumps as he suddenly placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her in, close enough to press her tightly against him.Brolly had been having a good day, right until Aston called. Aston calling was never a good sign. Especially when he still hadn’t found the treaty Aston had charged him with since last week. It was safe to say Brolly was cooked.He spat out the mouthful of matcha coffee he had in his mouth, apologized to the truly stunning model he was on his first date with, and bolted. She looked at him in indignance. He was slightly regretful, if Aston called, you had to answer, even at the cost of being laid.“Heyyyy, what’s up?”, he said airily, trying to pretend like he wasn’t currently slacking off from work because Aston had temporarily gone to Los Altos.“Wo?”, he asked, the insurmountable pressure behind that one syllable sending a bead of sweat down Brolly’s back. “Where?”, Aston asked, relegating to German for God knows what reason. Maybe he knew it was one of his most threatening languages.“I’m working on it. I swear. The wires are just a bit twisted right now”. And he wasn’t even lying
Aria felt an unreasonable need to be vulnerable. The night had been a full roller coaster of emotions and it all started with the evil bullheaded man beside her. “Anyone would run if they were in my place. You’re not exactly the best husband in the world”, she hid the need behind snark. Venting to a stranger was the safest option she had, because her friend would travel down, and her grandfather wouldn’t understand. She had such a narrow circle of joy. Her life revolved around her friend, her son and her grandfather. How miserable. She was used to it. “You haven’t given me the chance, my little wife. Who knows, I might be the very rose you’ve been looking for”. There was a little tilt of his head, as though he was measuring her reaction to his words. “What the hell would I look for a rose for? It’ll only prick your fingers and make you bleed,” she said snarkily, repeating a phrase she had heard at 15, a phrase that had left her with a vehement hatred for roses. She had fou
Aria startled at the sudden white flash and immediately swiveled her head to look in the direction it came from. That was a bad idea. There were four men with cameras and flashing lights, running over from the other side of the street. Hartie must have called them in, possibly to have them ask how she could enter Kumari, possibly to highlight how low she was on their hierarchical food chain. Or maybe just to embarrass her. The snake was unpredictable like that. Aston just stood still, barely even shifting at the rapid flashes of white that lit Aria and him up like they were at a disco. There was now commotion in the street. People turned to look at what celebrity the paparazzi were harassing. Even cars slowed down and phones came up in the hopes to record for clout. Aria raised her mask back on her face, far too late. She was no celebrity, but she had experienced so many ambushes that her natural fight or flight activated. Her heart pounded and her legs moved without any
“You must be my wife’s lovely family,” the voice rolled out like steel coated in velvet. Aria’s every nerve was completely keyed to Aston’s hand on her shoulder. The warmth radiated directly as though there weren’t multiple layers of clothes on her, like she’d been branded. She turned her head up to confirm and her breath caught in her throat. He was cloaked head to toe, a dark coat hanging off his broad shoulders, a cap pulled low over his eyes, a mask identical to hers in place. Not a single trace of his face was visible. And yet, somehow, his presence eclipsed the whole booth. Hartie blinked once. Just once. But in that single blink, Aria saw it, the falter in her composure, the flicker of something she’d never seen in Hartie before. Hunger. Interest.She hadn’t even seen Aston’s face yet she was already attracted to him. The sight of it made something curl in Aria’s gut, it was a feeling adjacent to possessiveness. She hated him, but she hated Hartie more. She didn’t like
Aria’s lips pressed into a thin line. The sharp sting of her mother’s words could have been paralyzing, if she let it. But she refused. She had spent years clawing herself out of ruin, out of the reputations others tried to suffocate her with. She would not let Camille’s venom touch her tonight.Hartie, as always, was the calmer one, the more calculating one. Their mother hated Aria too much to be properly cold when she was involved. She stepped slightly forward, her hand brushing against Camille’s arm to keep her back. They lowered themselves into the empty seats in the booth. Hartie’s gaze, deceptively warm but sharp, a gaze Aria had been tricked by many times in the past, landed on Aria with an almost imperceptible patience. “Aria,” Hartie said softly, “don’t let mom’s words make you sad. We just need information. About your… marriage.”Aria’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, to who in the Beaumont clan I married? Isn’t the great Rothschild clan good enough to figure it out?”Hartie
"Why did you get married?", he asked, his eyes narrowed and grave, the pressure she felt in his presence magnifying. It was like being faced with a giant mountain."Why do people get married Liam? Love, obviously", she scrunched her eyebrows, making sure to sound like she thought he was foolish for asking her the question in the first place.She needed his help, yes. But he was seeing her for the third time since she came back from France, and every single time, he had managed to make her feel caged or humiliated. Liam scoffed, as though her words were funny. "Don't lie to me, Aria. Is the man your little bastard's father?", he asked, something swimming in his eyes, something Aria couldn't properly interpret. Did he just fucking call her Asher a bastard? Did he just call his son a little bastard?Not only had he left her in the dirt five years ago, but he was now also insulting her son. Insulting the most important person in her life. Because of his hatred for her ring and the conno







