Chapter 13
Thirteen
“I was never asked. I was chosen, and in his world, that’s the same thing.” – Aria Boschett.
Time at work usually crawls at a painfully slow pace. But today? It’s sprinting.
I spent the morning crafting a plausible excuse for having lunch with Cyan MacBrady. If anyone asks, I’ll say it’s strictly business. After all, Cyan owns multiple legitimate companies. He’s already a client of ours, nothing unusual about meeting a client.
Except for the part where my so-called client kissed me like he planned to swallow me whole. I shove that thought away, grab my things, and head to Mel’s.
The diner hums with chatter, the smell of buttery biscuits and fresh coffee mingle with the low bubble of conversation. I scan the room for the bastard, nervous energy buzzing beneath my skin.
Then I find him, those impossible glasz irises lock onto mine from across the room.
He sits with the confidence that demands gravity to rearrange itself around him.
But he isn’t alone. Another man sits across from him, and relief washes through me.
A second person means my excuse for being seen with Cyan will work.
Memories hit me—our kiss. The way his lips claimed mine.
The way his tongue stroked against mine with a dominance that yanked the breath straight from my lungs.
A wildfire flickers deep within my core.
I stomp it out. This is madness. This man is blackmailing me.
Cyan sits there in a long-sleeved shirt, tattoos peeking out at the neckline. Broad shoulders. Muscular frame stretching the fabric. He looks… sinful.
“Aria.” The sound of my name slices through my trance, and my stomach drops. Simon. Of all people, on all days, the universe sends him.
He stares at me with those too-wide eyes, his gaze dragging down my body and lingering where it absolutely shouldn’t.
As always, his nearness makes my skin crawl.
I grip the strap of my purse tighter. “What are you doing here?” he asks, voice high and suspicious.
“Aren’t you usually drowning in spreadsheets at your desk? ”
I push my glasses up my nose. I almost never wear them outside of work but today they’re part of the plan. Cyan is obsessed with me. Fine, let’s see how much he likes me as a boring, buttoned-up nerd. I’m predictable and uninteresting. It’s desperate, but it’s all I’ve got.
“I… I didn’t bring lunch, th… thought I’d try this place.” Great, I’m stuttering.
Simon’s eyebrows bunch like a confused bloodhound. “You’re meeting someone?” My pulse kicks into overdrive. If he sees me with Cyan, he’ll assume I’m trying to take his job.
The man is paranoid enough already. “Is it someone from work?” he presses.
Before I can answer, his lips curl into a smug little smile, like he’s solved the Riemann Hypothesis.
“Thought you could outsmart me?” he hisses.
“Junior employees like you don’t meet with clients.
That’s my job.” My blood boils. Simon straightens his tie like he’s some corporate god sitting on a throne I’ll never reach.
“Only upper management, people like me... handles clients. Assistants–someone like you... that’s not your job. ”
I squeeze my purse strap. I can’t usually ignore his shit, but I’m at my limit. “That’s enough. Why don’t you leave me alone and let me have my meeting?”
Without warning, Simon grabs my wrist and yanks me toward him. “You little bitch. I knew you were gunning for my job.”
From the outside, it must look like we’re something more than coworkers. I truly despise this man. But even now, I don’t want to see him hurt. “Simon, please, you have to let me go.” I try to pull my arm back, but he tightens his grip, desperate, dragging me closer when all I want is distance.
I swear I feel him before I see him. Cyan. One second, he’s at the table, the next. He’s right behind Simon, radiating menace. His eyes lock onto where Simon’s hand grips mine. I try again to pull my are free, but Simon wouldn’t let go.
“Let. Her. Go.” Three words: low, and deadly. He plucks Simon’s hand away as if he’s removing an offending stain. Then his hand replaces Simon’s, branding me in front of the entire diner. Heat rushes to my face, and I want to sink through the floor.
Simon, oblivious to the fact that he’s second from death, snaps. “Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t just put your hands on someone like—” His sentence dies as Cyan’s free hand strikes like a viper, closing around Simon’s throat.
A low, controlled snarl rumbles from his chest as he leans in close.
“Who am I? I’m Cyan fucking MacBrady and clearly, you have a death wish, because I don’t take kindly to men touching what’s mine.
” My heart slams against my ribs. Lunch with Cyan was a terrible idea, but this?
This is so much worse. Simon gurgles, eyes bulging.
I look around the diner, desperate for help.
Nothing; no one moves. People pretend their food is fascinating.
The waitress behind the bar is studying the laminated menu like it’s a final exam.
He’s truly is the king of Crescent Bay. The realization chills me to the bone.
I press my palm to Cyan’s chest. “Cyan… please. Don’t.” He goes still. Those storm-dark eyes lock onto mine. I swallow hard. “S–Si… Simon is my boss. He’s just a micromanager, that’s all. Please, Cyan. Let’s eat.” A long, taut beat passes until Cyan finally lets go.
Simon stumbles back, slamming into the wall, coughing, gasping for air. His face is bright red, he wheezes, then croaks, “Just… just a misunderstanding.”
Cyan drapes an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “Go have lunch, Simon.” Simon bolts, tripping over himself, but before he can reach the door— “Simon.” Cyan says, make him freeze. “No more conversations with my woman’s breasts.” My world tilts. My woman?
Simon nods frantically without a glance back. “Understood, Mr. MacBrady.” He disappears through the door.
The excuse I crafted this morning crumbles into dust. Cyan just publicly claimed me.
His fingers brush the spot on my arm where Simon grabbed me.
“Come, Dove.” The logical part of me is screaming to turn around and leave.
To run, to sprint out of this diner and pretend none of this ever happened.
But then I think about the way Cyan handled Simon, how effortlessly he used that power and my feet keep moving.
I avoid the subtle stares as we walk toward our table.
When we arrive, I pause for a moment. I recognize him, Collin. Cyan’s brother.
His expression is unreadable as his gaze lands on me. “Hello, Aria. Nice to see you again.”
Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “Well, I can’t say the same about you.”
Collin’s lips curve, but the smile never touches his eyes. “A breath of fresh air,” he says. “Brother, you picked a fun one.”
Cyan doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t look at anyone but me. “Leave, Collin.”
Collin raises both hands in surrender. “Sure, bro.” He downs the rest of his drink in one swallow, winks at me, and steps out of the booth. “See you later, Aria.” As he walks away, our waitress approaches.
Joan’s name tag glints. She radiates the same easy warmth I’ve seen in most Crescent Bay locals. “Everything alright here?” Her eyes flicked between us as Cyan guided me into the booth and slid in beside me.
Cyan doesn’t hesitate. “All good, Joan. Tea for Aria—jasmine, with lemon and honey. And we’ll both have the clam chowder.” I freeze. That’s exactly how I take my tea. The walls of the cage around me feel like they’re closing in.
I wait until the waitress is out of earshot. “So, you’re stalking me.” It has to be that. Jasmine tea is what I make at home. He must have bugged my entire house. Cyan takes a sip of his coffee. I shove my sleeve up, exposing the bracelet locked around my wrist. “I want this off.”
Another slow sip of coffee. “You’re keeping it.”
I exhale sharply. “Cyan, this isn’t a game. I tried to remove it. It won’t budge without the key.”
His gaze flicks up, dark amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. “Good.”
Rage flares through me. “I don’t want your fucking gifts!”
Cyan leans in, voice low enough to scrape down my spine. “There’s no need to shower in the dark. The cameras have night vision.” My blood runs cold, and my entire body locks. I’ve been showering in the dark ever since I left my aunt’s house. He chuckles.
Heat rushes to my face at the thought of the intimate acts he might have seen me doing to myself. “Who else has seen these videos?” I hiss. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone as badly as I do right now.
He tilts his head closer, studying me like I’m his favorite puzzle. “You’re angry at me.”
Angry? I loathe him. “You’re a monster.”
“No one else has seen them,” he says, tone flat. “I’d gouge out the eyes of anyone who dared to look.”
What am I supposed to do with that? Say thank you? My hand curls around the butter knife. For the first time in my life, I want to cause actual harm. “You’re a beast.”
Cyan doesn’t flinch. He just watches me. “Who knows? Maybe I am.” My pulse pounds. The worst part? An insane part of me is intrigued. His obsession seems unshakable. What kind of madness is this?
“Surely there are other women who wouldn’t mind your attention. Why me? Why do this, Cyan?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t want them.
They don’t fascinate me the way you do. They aren’t an obsession I can’t breathe without.
” He leans closer, his voice pure silk as his lips brushes my ear.
“By the way, Dove…” A shiver bolts down my spine.
“I love hearing my name on your gorgeous lips.” His fingers trail over my wrist. The metal bracelet clicks softly against the table.
“Now, everyone knows you belong to me.” I suck in a breath, fighting the heat curling low and deep in my stomach.
My body shivers under his touch, and I hate myself for it.