Chapter 7: A Good Girl

JULIAN

I woke up to a cold spot on the sheets and a lingering scent of vanilla and sweat. She'd bolted. The cowardice was predictable. Aria wanted to play the bad girl in the dark, but the second the sun hit the walls, she wanted to crawl back into her shell of Montana modesty.

I didn't mind. The chase was better when the prey thought it had escaped.

I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the look on her face last night, that mixture of terror and desperation. She was just another notch, another body to fill the void. I'd had a dozen like her over the years. Beautiful, hungry, and convinced they were special. They always thought they were the one to crack the ice. They never realized the ice was the only thing keeping the whole structure from collapsing.

My old man had taught me that. He and my mother were the crown jewels of the social circuit, perfect smiles, coordinated outfits, the kind of marriage people wrote poems about. Behind the closed doors of our estate, it was a war zone of silence and betrayal. I spent my childhood listening to the muffled screams of arguments and the rhythmic thud of my father's mistresses hitting the headboard in the guest wing. Love was a marketing campaign. Marriage was a contract signed in blood and maintained with lies.

I didn't do love. I did ownership.

I found her in the kitchen an hour later. She was hovering by the island, clutching a mug of coffee like it was a lifeline. She looked wrecked, hair messy, eyes rimmed with red, skin still flushed. She looked like she'd been through a wreck.

I stepped up behind her, the heat of her body radiating through her thin clothes. I didn't say a word. I just slid my hand around her waist and pulled her back against my chest. She stiffened, a small gasp escaping her lips.

"You left early." I whispered in her ears.

"I had to."

"Guilt is a heavy thing to carry before breakfast, Aria." I chuckled.

I let my hand slide down, gripping the curve of her hip, my thumb digging into the skin. She shivered, her breath hitching.

"We can't do this, Julian. I can't stay here if this is happening." She tried to refuse me but her body betrayed her.

I leaned in, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. "You're staying. You're in my house, eating my food, breathing my air. As long as you're under this roof, you belong to the house."

"Mika can't know. She can never know."

"Of course she can't.” I agree with her. “My daughter doesn't need to know how her father spends his mornings."

I turned her around, pinning her against the marble counter. I looked into those wide, frightened eyes and saw the hunger still there, buried under the shame.

"You think you can just walk away because you feel a little bad? You're addicted to the way I break you. You'll be back."

"I hate you."

I chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that. It makes the sex better."

I released her with a sharp pat on the thigh and walked away without looking back. I had a board meeting via Zoom with the New York office, and I wasn't in the mood for sentiment.

I retreated to my study, the heavy oak doors shutting out the rest of the house. I settled into my leather chair, the screen flickering to life with six different faces in charcoal suits. The conversation was a drone of profit margins, zoning laws, and steel costs. I kept my voice flat, professional, the image of a controlled businessman.

"The structural integrity of the Manhattan tower is non-negotiable, Mark. If the wind shear exceeds the projections, we redesign the dampeners. I don't care about the budget overrun."

A soft click sounded at the door.

I didn't turn. I saw her in the reflection of the monitor. Aria. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that barely covered her thighs, her expression a mix of defiance and desperation. She didn't say a word. She just walked toward me, her eyes locked on mine.

"And regarding the limestone cladding," I continued, my voice steady, "we move to the Italian quarry. The local stuff is too porous."

Aria dropped to her knees.

I felt the air leave my lungs as she crawled under the massive mahogany desk. She didn't hesitate. She slid her hands up my thighs, her fingers grazing the seam of my trousers.

"Is there a problem with the cladding, Julian?" Mark’s voice crackled through the speakers.

"No problem," I rasped, my grip tightening on the armrests of the chair. "Just a minor adjustment in the specifications."

Aria's head moved. She unzipped me with a slow, deliberate tug, her breath hot against my skin. Then she took my cock into her mouth.

I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, a guttural groan threatening to break through. I forced it back, my jaw tightening.

"Julian? Are you still with us?"

I opened my eyes and stared directly into the camera, my expression a mask of stone. Below the desk, Aria was working with a frantic, starving energy. She used her tongue, her lips, the suction creating a vacuum that made my vision blur.

"I'm here," I said, my voice sounding like it was coming from a mile away. "Continue with the report on the foundation."

The contrast was a rush. The sterile, corporate drone of the meeting above and the raw, wet heat of Aria below. I could see the executives talking, their mouths moving in a silent loop of boredom and bureaucracy, while I was being dismantled by a girl who was terrified of her best friend.

I shifted my hips, pushing deeper into her throat. She gagged slightly, a muffled sound that was lost to the microphone, but I felt the vibration of it against my skin. I didn't slow down. I wanted her to feel the risk. I wanted her to know that I could expose her with one word, one sudden movement.

"The soil samples from the site are inconsistent," another executive began.

I reached down, my hand finding the back of Aria's head, my fingers tangling in her hair. I gripped her tight, guiding her, forcing the pace. I wasn't being gentle. I wanted her to feel the ownership.

"We'll order a second round of tests," I interrupted, my voice straining. "I want the results by Friday."

The friction was building, a white-hot coil tightening in my gut. Aria sensed it. She increased the pressure, her tongue swirling, her throat tightening around me. I could feel the climax rushing toward me like a tidal wave.

"I think that covers everything for today," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "We'll reconvene on Monday."

"Thank you, Julian. Good day."

The screen went black.

The second the connection cut, I let out a long, jagged breath and shoved Aria's head back. I didn't pull away; I just leaned back in the chair, my chest heaving.

She looked up at me from the floor, her lips glistening, a stray strand of hair stuck to her cheek. She looked like a ruined thing, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd seen all day.

"You're a reckless little brat," I muttered.

"You didn't tell me to stop," she whispered.

"I don't tell people to stop when I'm getting exactly what I want."

I reached down and pulled her up, but before she could lean in for a kiss, I pushed her away toward the door. The hunger was gone, replaced by the usual cold vacuum. The transaction was complete.

"Get out."

She blinked, the sudden shift in temperature leaving her shivering. "What?"

"I have work to do, Aria. Go find Mika. Go be the good girl for a while."

She lingered for a second, her gaze searching mine for something, a spark, a sign, a shred of affection. She found nothing. I just looked at her as if she were a blueprint that needed correcting.

She turned and slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

I sat in the silence of the study, the scent of her still hanging in the air. I didn't feel love. I didn't feel guilty. I just felt the satisfaction of a well-executed plan. She thought she was playing a game with me, but she didn't realize I owned the board.