Tempting The CEO

27. "You don't know what kind of men lurk in places like that."

I wasn't supposed to be here.

Clubs weren't my scene. They never were. I'd come for one thing. A quick meeting with my CFO to discuss final revisions on the marketing proposal before the board review. He was the one who insisted we meet at some 'new upscale lounge' he claimed had the best ambiance in the city.

I found it stupid, but whatever.

I didn't even glance twice at the flashing lights or the half-dressed crowd. I moved with purpose, ignoring the music vibrating through my chest and the irritating scent of too much perfume and cheap desperation in the air.

Then I saw her.

I fucking saw her, my feet halting in their tracks as I did.

You have got to be kidding me.

At the bar. Hair down. A short blood-red dress clinging sinfully to her curvy body. Legs crossed, drink in hand, head tilted back in a laugh I could hear over the beat of the bass pounding through the walls of the club.

Aurelia.

What the actual hell was she doing here?

My entire body tensed. Logic fled. The chaos of the club blurred around me, and all I could see was her—glowing under neon lights, oblivious to the way she looked like a damn flame in a room full of moths.

And sure enough, one was circling her already.

Some guy. Tall, cocky posture, blazer too tight, confidence flowing through his body language as he approached her. He leaned in close. Smirked. Said something that made her laugh again. She sipped from her drink, not pulling away, not moving.

I was pissed off instantly.

Did she have any idea what kind of attention she was inviting? Did she ever even think? Did she even care?

I didn't remember crossing the floor.

I just knew that one second I was at the edge of the crowd, and the next, I was standing right behind her. The guy looked up, confused by my sudden presence, but I didn't give him a chance to speak.

"Aurelia." I said coldly, eyes dark with rage.

She turned, eyes widening, mouth dropping open. "Zayden?"

The guy glanced between us. "Friend of yours?"

"Mind your own business," I snapped, grabbing her wrist before she could say anything else. "She's leaving."

"Excuse me—" she started in an offended tone, but I was already dragging her off the barstool, weaving us through the crowd toward the exit.

She stumbled once in her heels but caught up quickly. "Zayden, let go of me!"

"Quiet." I growled.

We reached the street. The cold hit immediately.

I turned sharply, still gripping her wrist.

"What the fuck are you doing in a place like this?" I yelled.

She yanked her hand free. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Business," I snapped. "Not sitting in a tiny dress at a bar for attention."

Her eyes narrowed as she appeared visibly offended. "Is that what you think I was doing?"

"You were flirting with some random asshole like you didn't have a single thought in that head of yours." I retorted.

Her jaw dropped. "You don't get to speak to me like that."

"Then start acting like you have some sense, Aurelia.

It's midnight. You're alone. You're dressed like.

.." I looked her over, breath catching in my throat.

"...like that. In a damn club. And some guy is hanging all over you while you're laughing like he just said the funniest shit you've ever heard. "

"So? What's it to you?" She shot back, stepping into my space as her eyebrows met in the centre. "You ignore me in the house, touch me one night like you own me, then vanish. You don't get to act jealous, Ashford. You don't get to control what I do with my life."

"I'm not jealous," I lied, my voice rough. "I'm—"

"Angry? Possessive?" she cut in, chin raised, eyes blazing with her ever-present confidence. "You don't even know what you want."

"I want you to stop acting like a spoiled brat with a death wish," I said harshly. "You think this is a game? You don't know what kind of men lurk in places like that."

"And you're one to talk?" Her laugh was bitter. "You're the man who touches me under candlelight like I'm something to play with and walks away the next morning like it never happened."

I clenched my fists at my sides. Her words hit too close. "I'm warning you." I growled, stepping closer.

"Or what?" she challenged, tilting her chin up. "You'll drag me out again? Put your hands on me like you did at that dinner?"

My gaze dropped to her lips. Her skin. That dress that had driven me insane since the moment I laid eyes on it.

"You really think I can stand there and watch some guy put his hands on you?" I said through gritted teeth.

"Yes," she snapped. "Watch!" She turned around abruptly, all prepared to storm back inside, but I grabbed her wrist again and roughly pulled her to my chest.

Her balance faltered slightly, forcing her to clutch on my biceps for support.

Her proximity and the scent of her perfume made my breath hitch.

We stared at each other, the night air cold but our bodies anything but.

I wanted to kiss her.

I wanted to scream at her.

I wanted to take her home and ruin every shred of defiance still clinging to her breath.

But I did none of those things.

Instead, I let go of her and turned away, jaw tight.

"Get in the car." I ordered, voice low.

She didn't move.

I turned back, raising my voice. "Now."

Her eyes narrowed as she still stood like a defiant rebel. "Make me."

My eyes darkened, fury consuming me. "Fine."

Her eyes widened as I grabbed her wrist again and pulled the door to the passenger side open before pushing her in and closing the door.

Within seconds, I was in the driver's seat and pulling away from that damned club.

The silence in the car was deafening.

I gripped the wheel with one hand, jaw locked so tight it ached, my other hand resting on the gear like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. Streetlights streaked past us in a blur, but I wasn't paying attention to the road.

I could still feel her.

The way she felt when I pulled her to my chest. The sound of her breath catching. The way her fingers curled into my arms like she hated how solid I felt beneath her hands.

And now, she was sitting next to me—arms folded, lips pursed, and that goddamn dress riding up her thighs with every crossed leg and deliberate shift in the seat.

I could feel her glare without even looking.

"You could've just said you were jealous." She muttered after a long stretch of silence.

I snorted. "I'm not jealous."

"Right," she scoffed. "Because dragging someone out of a club caveman-style is so rational, and a completely normal thing to do."

"Do you have any idea how reckless that was?" I shot back, eyes still on the road. "You, alone in a place like that? Any of those men could have been dangerous. Someone could spike your drink—"

"That guy was harmless." She cut me off.

"You don't know that." I argued agitatedly.

"And what?" she snapped. "You were going to save me, Ashford? Be my knight in shining Armani?"

"I don't wear Armani." I muttered.

"Missing the point."

I turned toward her briefly, glaring. "The point is, Sinclair, if I hadn't shown up—"

"If you hadn't shown up," she interrupted coldly, "I'd still be having a perfectly normal night without being manhandled and dragged into a car like I'm some kind of criminal."

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Manhandled, huh? Don't tempt me, Sinclair."

She leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing. "Or what?"

My jaw ticked. I didn't answer.

Because I didn't know.

I was barely holding it together. Her voice, her legs, her perfume, the image of her laughing with another man—it was all driving me to the edge.

I pulled the car into the driveway too quickly, slamming it into park before killing the engine.

"Get out." I muttered.

She didn't move. "Get in. Get out." She mimicked me in a deep voice that sounded nothing like me. "Fucking control freak."

With that, she pushed the door open and got out, slamming it behind her, making my whole car shake at the angry force.

And then, she opened the door and stepped out like she hadn't just lit a match and tossed it into gasoline.

I followed her inside, tension stretching taut between us. The door hadn't even shut behind me before she turned on her heel and faced me in the foyer.

"Let's get one thing straight," she said, eyes blazing. "You don't get to yell at me for having a life outside of you."

"You think this is about control?" I retorted. "You think I want to own you?"

"I think you don't know what you want!" she shouted back. "You touch me one night, then ice me out the next. You say nothing, then act like you have some claim on me when another man so much as looks my way—"

"Just stop it Aurelia, damn it!" I exclaimed agitatedly.

"You stop it!" She yelled.

My restraint snapped.

In one stride, I closed the distance, grabbed her by the waist, and backed her up against the wall firmly. My hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip like I needed to remind myself she was real.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at me, stunned.

Our faces were inches apart. Her breath fanned across my skin. I could feel her heart racing, the same way mine was.

But I didn't kiss her.

Not yet.

Instead, I stared into her eyes and said in a low, gritted voice, "Next time you want to make me lose my mind, Sinclair... don't do it in public."

She smirked, bold and breathless. "Why? Worried someone might see you unravel?"

I leaned in until my lips brushed her ear. "You haven't seen me unravel yet."

Then I pulled back, watching the flush creep up her neck, the way her fingers twitched at her sides like she didn't know whether to slap me or pull me closer.

Neither of us moved.

She made the first move to walk away, leaving me alone with my relentless desires.