TAKE ME, RUIN ME CHAPTER 3

TAKE ME, RUIN ME CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3: THE BLUE OF THE STORM

ARIA'S POV

The world around me slows down until it feels like it has stopped entirely. I remain glued to my seat with my heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs. A few meters away, a hulk of a man towers over the office floor, his presence so massive it seems to swallow up the light. He stands there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders broad and imposing under a perfectly tailored suit. He isn't moving; he is just glaring at me with an intensity that makes the skin on my neck prickle.

I gulp, the sound feeling incredibly loud in the sudden, vacuum-like silence of the room. I am doomed. There is no other word for it. I have managed to insult the most powerful man in the building before he even finished his first walk-through.

I let out a nervous, breathless chuckle, the sound escaping me before I can stop it. I immediately shake my head, my face heating up with a mix of shame and terror. I can feel the eyes of everyone in the space fixed on me. The air is thick with the silent judgment of my coworkers. I don't need to hear them to know what they are thinking. They are all watching the train wreck, probably whispering about how badly I have screwed up and how fast my desk will be cleared out.

"Look," I begin, my voice coming out thin and shaky. I try to find my footing, forcing myself to look up at him. "I didn't mean it like that, sir. I was just... I was frustrated and I—"

"No," he interrupts, his voice cutting through my excuse like a blade. He takes a step closer, and the sheer power of his gaze makes my heart thud painfully. "From the look of things, I think you did mean it."

"No, I didn't..." I try to protest again, my hands twisting together in my lap.

"Yes, you did," he says firmly. He doesn't raise his voice, but the certainty in his tone is terrifying.

Shit, I think to myself. I grind my teeth together, feeling a mix of anger at myself and a strange, buzzing adrenaline. I have never been this reckless in my life, and now I’m paying for it in front of the entire company.

"I just..." I start, but the words die in my throat. There is no explaining this away.

"Come to my office. Now," he says.

He doesn't wait for an answer. He doesn't even look to see if I’m following. He simply turns on his heel and walks away, his stride long and confident. He leaves absolutely no room for arguments or apologies.

"Fuck," I curse internally. I stay frozen for a second, watching the back of his expensive jacket disappear toward the executive wing. I finally stand up, my legs feeling like they are made of jelly. I look over at Selena, who is still standing by my desk. She looks like she’s just witnessed a tragedy. She gives me a sorrowful, pitying gaze and gives a tiny, sad wave of her hand.

"I am so sorry," she mouths, her eyes wide.

I just shake my head at her. What is a "sorry" going to do now? It won't pay my bills or keep my mother in the hospital. I am about to lose my job, the only thing that gives me a sense of self-worth outside of that golden cage I call a home. Fuck you, Aria, I tell myself as I start the long, humiliating walk to his office. Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut?

The walk feels like it takes a lifetime. When I finally reach the large, heavy doors of the CEO's office, my hand trembles as I reach for the handle. I push it open and step inside.

He is already seated behind a massive desk, his legs crossed comfortably. He looks perfectly at home in the center of all this power. As I stand there, he doesn't say anything at first. He just scrutinizes me, his eyes moving slowly from my face down to my shoes and back up again.

"Close the door," he says.

The sound is a direct order, sharp and cold. It makes me flinch. I slowly turn around, my fingers fumbling with the latch, and shut the door. The click of the lock sounding feels like the closing of a trap.

"Good girl," he says softly. The words send a strange, confusing shiver down my spine. "Take a seat."

I pause for a minute, my brow furrowing. Did he just ask me to take a seat? My mind is racing, trying to figure out his angle. What for? Isn't he about to sack me? People usually don't ask you to get comfortable before they fire you. Maybe he wants to draw out the agony.

"I am waiting," his sharp voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

I move quickly, walking up to the plush leather chair he gestured toward. I sit down, keeping my back straight and my hands folded tightly in my lap. To my surprise, he smiles. But it isn't a friendly smile. It’s not the kind of smile that puts you at ease.

I see through his intentions immediately. His eyes continue to take all of me in, dissecting me, analyzing every detail of my appearance. It feels like he is trying to undress me with his gaze, peeling back layers until he sees everything I’m trying to hide.

"Sir. That is inappropriate," I say. I try to sound brave, but my voice carries a slight wobble.

He smiles wider, a predatory glint in his eyes. "So is insulting your boss."

I gulp, the reminder of my mistake hitting me again. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the polished wood of his table. "You are actually piquing my interest in a weird way I didn't expect," he admits, his voice dropping an octave. "Can you tell me what motivated you to say that about me? Most people are at least smart enough to wait until I leave the room."

I swallow hard and look away, focusing on a piece of art on the wall. I don't have anything to say. What can I possibly tell him? That I am a mess? That I stupidly allowed my emotions—the pain of knowing my husband doesn't love me—to get into my head and cloud my judgment? That I was taking out my anger at my life on a man I didn't even know? I shake my head.

"Forget it, sir. I am sorry," I say, looking down at my lap. "I was out of line."

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that vibrates through the air. "Interesting. You are so interesting, I have to admit."

I don't reply. I just sit there, feeling the weight of his attention. A heavy silence reigns in the room for a long while. It feels thick, almost like the air is thinning out, making it hard to draw a full breath into my lungs. My nerves are frayed, and the waiting is worse than the actual punishment. I finally let out a sigh, unable to take the quiet anymore.

"So, are you going to sack me, sir?" I ask tentatively. I hold my breath, waiting for the bomb blast that will shatter my career. This job is the only thing I have in my life right now that keeps me stable, the only place where I am Aria, not just Mrs. Sinclair.

He chuckles again, leaning back in his chair. "On the contrary, I won't."

I feel a massive wave of relief, but it is cut short by his next words.

"You are definitely going to pay for that, of course. An attitude like that can't go unpunished."

I exhale, my shoulders dropping just an inch. "Well, it's better than losing my job."

He chuckles at my reaction, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Don't feel so happy too fast. I haven't even told you your punishment yet."

I gulp. I can only imagine what a man like him considers a fair punishment. I hope it’s just extra work or a formal warning. I hope it’s not something that will make me faint or humiliate me further.

He squints his eyelids at me, his gaze piercing deep, as if he is looking past my skin and straight into my soul. His eyes are incredible—a very sharp, piercing, sparkling sky blue. They glitter like blue crystals under the office lights. I know I have said this before, but God, is he so fucking cute. A part of my brain, a part I usually keep locked away, whispers that it wouldn't be bad to get to know him.

Jeez, what are you thinking, Aria? I scold myself. You are still married. Your life is complicated enough.

I exhale slowly, trying to maintain my composure. He still seems to be gazing at me, his head tilted slightly as if he is wondering about something, searching for a memory.

"Come on, Aria," he asks all of a sudden, his voice shifting to something more familiar, "are you just going to sit there and keep pretending you don't recognize me?"

I freeze. Wait, hold up. First of all, how does he know my name? I haven't introduced myself, and I’m not wearing a badge. Second of all, what the hell is he talking about?