CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE DISMISSAL

Aria’s POV

It’s been two weeks.

Fourteen days since the parking lot.

Fourteen days since Damian and I kissed.

Since then? Nothing.

He doesn’t speak to me, doesn’t look at me, doesn’t acknowledge that I breathe oxygen in his penthouse.

My tasks appear under my door, typed with his signature on it.

He fired Smith. The tabloids called it “Kane Enterprise Restructures.” Stock dipped 2%. Then recovered. Like Malakai Smith never existed.

Pretending it never happened would be smart.

But I tried.

Day three, I stayed in my room. Day seven, I ate dinner in the kitchen at 2 AM. Day ten, I started flinching at his footsteps.

Today is day fourteen and I’m done flinching.

If he wants to pretend I’m a liability he’s already eliminated, fine.

I step back from the mirror.

I take in my reflection, I’m wearing a pencil dress that stops halfway down my thighs, with a low neckline.

There’s no way he can look through me in this.

If he’s going to burn me, I’m going to make sure he feels the heat.

I open the door.

Luca’s there.

Hand raised, like he was about to knock.

His eyes drop. Then stop. Then drag back up, slower.

“Wow.” His voice cracks. “Ari, you look…”

He doesn’t finish.

His throat bobs. He shoves his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t trust them.

Heat floods my cheeks.

If I can short-circuit Luca, who flirts with baristas for sport, then what will this do to Damian?

“You good?” I whisper.

He exhales like I punched him. “No. But you will be.” A beat. “Uh. That reminds me. Damian wants you. Study.” His eyes flick down again, then back to mine. Apologetic. Feral. “When you’re done… come to the kitchen. I made breakfast.”

“Thanks.” The word’s thin.

I walk away, and I feel his eyes on me as I sway my hips.

The study is ten degrees colder than the hall.

I knock. Once.

“Enter.”

I step in slowly. Count the coffee cups. Three. His eyes are bloodshot. His hair’s a mess. He looks like shit. Good.

“You called for me, sir,” I say the word sir laced with false sweetness.

His head snaps up.

His gaze does what Luca’s did moving down and up but slower.

His lips go thin. Like his restraining himself.

“West Corp monthly report,” he says. Voice scraped raw. “You didn’t send it.”

Liar.

“I sent it yesterday.” My voice shakes. I hate that it shakes. “Want me to show you?” I move around the desk before he can answer.

I bend for the mouse. I know exactly what he sees. I wore this dress for him.

He licks his lips. Swallows hard. Then his face shutters.

His knuckles go white on the mahogany. Gripping the desk like it’s the only thing stopping him from grabbing me instead.

“Why are you dressed like this?”

I straighten. Spine like steel. “What do you mean, sir?”

His eyes are winter. “Do you think seducing me will get you anywhere?” Silence. “That kiss was a mistake. You need to let it go.”

Mistake.

The word doesn’t land. It detonates.

“I—”

“You look like a hooker,” he says. Flatly.

“Is that what you want? For my brothers to see you like this? For the board to think I can’t control my staff?”

The air gets sucked out of the room. Out of me.

Tears burn my eyes, I blink hard to well it in.

I fumble for the mouse, vision swimming, but I find the file. I shove the laptop at him so hard it skids. “There. Sent. 4:17 PM. CC’d .” My voice breaks on his name. “Happy?”

“Anything else, sir?” I choke it out.

His jaw ticks. For one, insane second, his mask cracks. Regret. Something worse.

Then it’s gone.

“You can leave.“ he says. “And go change.”

I turn towards the exit and run.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The word beats in time with my heels. Why did I think—

I slam into a wall of muscle. Hands catch me before I fall.

I look up. Luca.

“Ari.” Just my name. But it sounds like a prayer.

“What’s wrong?”

That’s it. The dam breaks. I collapse into his chest, fists grabbing his shirt like he’s the only solid thing left.

“He called me—” The word sticks. Chokes me. I can’t make it real.

“It’s okay,” Luca breathes into my hair. One hand splays between my shoulder blades. Big. Warm. Steady. “I heard him, sweetheart. Every word. Breathe for me.”

He’s shaking so hard with rage seeing me cry.

I tilt my face up, tears soaking his collar. “Why does he hate me?”

Luca’s thumb catches a tear. His eyes aren’t warm anymore. They’re black fire. “He doesn’t hate you, Aria.” His voice is like gravel. “That’s the fucking problem.”

He pulls me closer. Close enough that his heart hammers against mine.

“He doesn’t get to talk to what’s ours like that,” Luca says. Quiet. Deadly. A promise written in blood. “Not ever again.”