First day at the Rothschild conglomerate

Aria adjusted the cuff of her blouse as she slid her ID across the security scanner, the gates parting with a soft beep. Monday. Her first day waking up at the Rothschild company. First day waking up in Aston Beaumont’s house.

It had been strange, how clinical the whole arrangement felt. Aston hadn’t even looked at her when she brought her suitcases into his mansion. He simply gave a curt nod and summoned the housekeeper to help her, standing firm and looking at her like he was looking past her.

Asshole. Why had her grandfather decided that he was the one, of all people?

At least the housekeeper had been a funny old man, a very haughty french man. It was a lovely burst of familiarity as he snobbily directed the maids to take her stuff to her room.

Asher had been slightly entertained upon meeting his new…father and Aria had been shocked by it. The boy had stood at his mother’s side, studying the six-foot-something man with solemnity far too old for his five years. And Asher had extended his small hand.

Asher never touched anybody. He hated their germs. Aria knew he was a prickly little monster, her own prickly little monster, well, when he was around people he was uncomfortable with. Deep down he was the most hyperactive human being she knew.

Aston had glanced at the boy’s hand outstretched. And then, blandly, he shook it.

One big, one small, neither of them smiling, both of them acknowledging each other. Her son and her… husband.

She hadn’t stopped laughing in her head about it since.

But laughter faded fast in this place. It felt like the whole floor buzzed with whispers the moment she stepped onto her floor. Her brand new colleagues stared openly, their voices lowered but their eyes sharp.

She could practically feel them tallying up the diamonds on her hand against the scandal of her disappearance, the rumors of her return and the whispers of her marriage.

She ignored them. She had learned long ago that pretending to be unbothered hurt them more than any retaliation could.

“Aria Griffin.”

Her name cracked across the room before she could even bloody sit down, sharply. The intern who delivered it shrank back, clearly spooked by being the messenger.

“The CEO wants you. Now.”

She took in a fortifying breath as heels clicked against the polished floor as she walked. The stares burned holes in her back. Fucking Liam.

When she stepped into the office, the door shut behind her with a soft but final thud.

And there he was.

Liam.

He wasn’t sitting casually, the way he used to when he’d sneak her out of lessons or provoke her just for fun. No, he was behind the desk, every muscle of his tense like he was ready to strike, his eyes molten fury.

“Close the door,” he said.

She arched a brow. “It’s already closed.”

“Lock it.”

She scowled and clenched her fist, almost recoiling at the amount of sweat that had gathered in her hand.

Still, she twisted the lock. The click echoed between them.

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Aria tilted her head, weighing whether to comply, but then remembering the orders she had, she strode forward and dropped into the seat with deliberate care, crossing her legs like she was the one holding the power.

It was her only defense against him.

Against the man that had ruined her.

Liam leaned forward, his elbows braced on the desk. His jaw was clenched, his expression a storm barely contained.

“What the hell are you doing, Aria?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“I’m about to start my job. Brother. Why do you ask?”

He quite nearly growled and stood up in his seat, rounding towards her.

“Don’t play with me. You disappear for years, come back with a child, and then—” He cut himself off, his gaze flicking pointedly to the glittering stone on her hand. His teeth ground together. “And then you’re married.”

Something in Liam’s eyes darkened.

He braced a hand on the armrest beside her, leaning down until she could feel the heat of his breath against her skin.

“You think this is a game, huh?” he asked, voice harsh but laced with something else, something dangerous.

Aria held his gaze, unflinching, even as her heart betrayed her by skipping. “If it is, Liam, you seem to be losing. I have a job to do.”

She said and kicked her seat back, dislodging him from holding her chair hostage. She couldn’t let him do this to her. Not again.

She was married after all, and he was just her stepbrother.