Lahat ng Kabanata ng HIRED BY THE RUTHLESS CEO : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Aria’s POVI spend the weekend avoiding Sophie's pointed questions and hating myself for wanting him to kiss me again.Saturday morning, I wake up touching my lips. Again. It's become an unconscious habit since Friday night—my fingers drifting to my mouth like they're trying to confirm the kiss actually happened. That I didn't imagine the way Damien Cross held me on that rooftop like I was something precious instead of something to destroy."You're doing it again," Sophie says from the kitchen doorway.I drop my hand quickly, guilt flooding through me. "Doing what?""That thing where you touch your lips and get this look on your face." She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "You've been doing it since you got home Friday night. Want to tell me what happened?""Nothing happened.""Aria." Her voice goes soft. "I've known you since we were eighteen. I know what 'nothing' looks like on you, and this isn't it."I pull my knees to my chest on the couch, suddenly feeling very s

Aria's POVVictoria's expression tells me she knows exactly what she just walked in on—and she's going to weaponize it.I make it to my desk before my hands start shaking. The coffee Damien made sits abandoned in his office, along with whatever fragile understanding we were building. All of it destroyed by Victoria's perfectly timed entrance.How long was she watching? What exactly did she see?The questions spiral through my mind as I boot up my computer with trembling fingers. We weren't kissing. We weren't even touching when she opened the door—not really. Just Damien reaching for my hand. Just me looking at him like he was something other than my tormentor.Just enough to be damning.My phone buzzes. A text from that same unknown number—the one I know is Damien:Stay calm. She saw nothing conclusive.I want to believe him. Want to think Victoria's knowing smile was just her usual predatory expression. But I've been her target for weeks now. I know how she operates. She doesn't nee

Aria’s POVVictoria's threat hangs over me, but I can't stay away from him—and that terrifies me.The lobby of Damien's building is all marble and mirrors, reflecting my anxiety back at me a thousand times over. The chandeliers above cast fractured light across the polished floors, making the space feel both opulent and oppressive. I shouldn’t be here. I definitely shouldn’t be taking the private elevator to his penthouse at nine o’clock on a Tuesday night. My reflection in the mirrored walls looks like a stranger—wide-eyed, lips pressed tight, clutching my bag as if it’s a lifeline. I barely recognize myself anymore.But his text was clear: We need to talk. Come to my place.At Silverlake Heights, where Damien lives in a modern mansion perched above the city, the private elevator hums softly as it ascends. My stomach twists with every floor we pass. I’ve spent the last twelve hours replaying Victoria’s message in my head, her venomous words slicing through me: You’re finished, Aria.

Damien’s POVI've crossed every line I swore I wouldn't cross, and I don't care anymore.The elevator doors close on Aria's stricken face, and I stand in my living room like an idiot, surrounded by evidence of what we just did. Her blazer is still on the floor. The scent of her perfume lingers in the air.I grab my phone, pulling up the security feed for the building's entrance. There—Aria exits, walks to the corner, gets into a cab. And there, across the street, is the black sedan we've been tracking for weeks.The investigator.I watch as he raises his camera, capturing her departure. Time stamping her exit for Victoria's case file.My hand tightens on the phone until the screen cracks slightly."Fuck." I throw it on the couch, pacing to the windows where I had her pressed against the glass hours ago.This was supposed to be about strategy. About coordinating our response to Victoria's threats. About protecting us both from her schemes.Instead, I crossed the one line I promised mys

Aria POVWe're caught in a pattern that's toxic and addictive—cruel in public, desperate for each other in private.The photos hit every device I own simultaneously. My phone. My laptop. My work email. Each one more damning than the last.Me and Damien through his penthouse window. The angle leaves nothing to interpretation.I stare at my phone screen in my tiny Koreatown apartment, my hands shaking so badly I almost drop it. Sophie's traveled. I'm alone with the evidence of my worst decision.My work email pings. Again. And again.I don't need to open them to know what they say. The subject lines tell the story: "Saw the photos." "Is this real?" "Aria, what were you thinking?"Another email. This one from Victoria, sent to my personal address: You should have disappeared when I gave you the chance. Now everyone knows exactly what you are.I'm going to be sick.My phone rings. Mom. I silence it.It rings again. Dad.Then Sophie. Then a number I don't recognize.I turn it off completel