chapter 33

THEA

You’re already in.

The words echo louder than they should. Not just in the room, but in me. I should say something clever. Something cutting. Anything at all.

But my brain has apparently decided to take a coffee break—how ironic—leaving me standing here like an idiot in heels, emotionally compromised and physically pressed against the man I was supposed to be avoiding.

Ezra’s eyes don’t move. Not from mine. Not for a second. And it’s maddening.

“I brought my resignation letter,” I say, finally taking a step back, eyes darting to the paper on the floor. 

He says nothing as he walks past me and shuts the door, making my breath catch in my throat. Then, he turns to me.

“Why are you here?” He asks, voice almost sounding cold.

My brows shoot up in confusion, a tingle running down my spine as I take a step back and hurriedly pick my phone and the letter. 

“I… I came to give you this.”

Bloody liar.

My brain screams.

You could have emailed it. Or left it with H.R. But no, you had to come here. You had to see him. What were you hoping for?

He takes a step closer. I take one back.

“Seems like you've forgotten what I told you?”

“Huh?”

One second, he's a few meters away from the door, the next, he's standing before me. His hand shoots to my neck and he grabs it before using it to pull me closer until his lips are hovering over mine, his thumb caressing my thudding pulse.

“You should be sacred Thea. I've already told you that if I see you in my space, I won't let go.” He growls against my lips.

I swallow audibly, my eyes darting from his eyes to his lips and back again. And for a second, just a split second, I want to cave. To let go. To let him take everything.

No. No.

I shake my head wildly, snapping myself out of the haze that is him, remembering why I'm here in the first place.

To lash out. To make myself feel better by blaming him for taking advantage of me when I'm drunk even though I clearly want it.

I'm horrible. I know.

But I can't.

I just can't…

“Step back.” I whisper.

“No.”

“Step the fuck back Ezra!” I almost screamed.

That seems to do the trick as he blinks, like I’ve yanked him out of some trance. His hand drops from my neck—slowly, reluctantly—and I step away, dragging air back into my lungs like I’ve been drowning.

“You don’t get to do that,” I say, voice shaking as much as my hands. “You don’t get to touch me like that or look at me like this when you knew what you did on the night of the event.”

His jaw clenches, his eyes searching mine almost… desperately? “I didn’t force you.”

“I never said you did,” I snap. “But you knew I wasn’t sober. You knew I wasn’t thinking straight. And you still—” My voice cracks, and I bite down on the guilty sob crawling up my throat. “You still touched me…” like you owned me.

“I don’t regret it,” he says, too fast. Too firm.

And I hate how my body reacts. How the heat curls in my belly like betrayal.

I sigh. “Well, I do.”

It’s a lie. We both know it. But maybe if I say it enough, it’ll feel true.

“I came here to quit,” I go on, waving the damn letter like a white flag. “To walk away before this mess gets any worse.”

From this charade. From this career that ruined my marriage.

Maybe I should have quit this job since that moment when Sebastian started complaining about it. Look where it got me. 

Heart shattered twice in a year.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches me like I’ve set myself on fire and he’s not sure whether to put it out or let me burn.

Finally, he nods once. A small, slow motion.

“If that’s what you want…” he says quietly. “...I'm not going to grant you that.”

My head jerks to him, eyes widening. “E—” I gulp.

He's in front of me again, pulling me closer by my neck. My grip on my phone and the letter tightens.

“Because you've already given yourself to me that moment when you came all over my tongue sweetheart. And you just cemented it by coming to my space.” He growls.

“I don't fucking care if you are an Aureate. I'll just make sure not to end up like Malik...” He growls the last sentence more to himself, his eyes flashing red.

Is it the lighting again?

Wait… Aureate? The last time I heard that word was from Isla…

Perspiration rolls down my face as I swallow, my eyes searching his eyes while a moan almost escape my lungs from the way his thumb caress my pulse.

“Ezra.” I say, voice coming off breathless.

“Because you are fucking mine. Mine Thea. Mine.”

That's the only warning I get before his lips clash against mine.

Hard. Desperate. Like he’s starving. And maybe I am, too.

His grip tightens behind my neck, the other gripping my waist as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. 

I melt into the kiss—traitor that I am—my body betraying every rational thought I came here with. My lips part under his breath, stuttering, heart battering against my ribs like it wants to jump out.

How did we get here?

Halfway into the kiss, I'm already drowning—heat curling up my spine, knees unsteady, lips raw from the pressure of his.

Then—ringing. Loud. Obnoxious. My phone, caught between us, shrieking like an alarm I didn't set.

I jerk back, gasping, using the sound as an excuse to break the moment and to clear the fog. “My phone’s ringing.”

He doesn’t let go right away. His forehead presses against mine, lips brushing over my mouth with one last parting kiss before he loosens his hold. I step back, fumbling with the device like it’s suddenly too heavy.

The screen lights up.

Sebastian?

My stomach drops. The buzz becomes a roar in my ears.

Shit. Shit! It's him. I still know his number offhand despite deleting it from my device.

I should have changed my damn number.

I stare at the screen, breath shallow, a hundred curses lodged in my throat. The phone vibrates in my hand once more, then stops. Just like that, silence rushes in—and guilt floods every inch of me.

He’s calling now? Why? Why today? Why here?

“Who is it?” Ezra asks, voice rough and guarded.

I don’t answer.

Instead, I look away and let the phone drop to the table like a dead weight. My lungs are burning. My heart’s a mess. And before I can form a sentence, the door to Ezra’s office creaks open.

Nora.

Her eyes bounce between us—Ezra, glaring, me, flushed with swollen lips and a war inside my chest.

“There’s a man downstairs,” she says, voice clipped. “He says he’s here to see you.”

A pause.

And then—

“His name is Sebastian…”

She doesn’t finish it.

Doesn’t need to.

The name hangs in the air like a blade over my head.

Ezra’s body tenses beside me, jaw locking. His eyes snap to mine, unreadable. I’m frozen. The breath I was holding releases in a shaky exhale.

This isn’t happening. Not today.

My body’s still buzzing from Ezra’s kiss and now—him? Now?

What does he want?

Why now, Sebastian? After everything?

Nora lingers for a moment longer, waiting for instruction, but I can’t speak. I can't think.

Ezra’s voice cuts through the silence. “Send him away.”

I flinch. I don’t know if it’s at his tone or the possessiveness that simmers underneath it.

But this isn’t his decision to make. None of this is.

I square my shoulders, forcing steel into my spine, and meet Ezra’s eyes. “I’ll handle it.”

And before he can say a word, I pick my phone and brush past Nora and walk straight out of the office.

Maybe Sebastian Calloway has come to play.

But I’m not the same woman he used to break.