Chapter 18
Eighteen
“Because you don’t have a collar doesn’t mean you can’t still feel the leash.” – Aria Boschett.
The workday ends, but I stay put in my cubicle, waiting for the office to empty.
I’ve had enough of the not-so-covert glances and hushed whispers that followed me all afternoon.
Thanks to Cyan, I’m the new favorite subject of office gossip.
I step out of the elevator and brace myself to scan the lobby for whatever his name is, when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Hey, Aria, wait up!” I turn to see Judit rushing over, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Hey, Judit.”
“I can’t believe it. You are all anyone is talking about.” She leans in conspiratorially, eyes gleaming. “I swear, I should have put two and two together weeks ago when you asked about Cyan. I have to be a bridesmaid when you two get married.”
I nearly choked on my saliva. “Judit, you’re way ahead of yourself.” I try to keep my tone light, but panic creeps in. “It’s not like that. He and I are just—”
Just what? A mobster and the woman he won’t leave alone. A man whose hands had me coming undone against a damn railing? The same man I kissed back in some perverse power battle, despite knowing better. I told him it meant nothing. He didn’t believe me, and then Cyan, being Cyan, doubled down.
“Earth to Aria.”
I blink, realizing I zoned out. “Huh?”
Judit’s expression turns sly. “I asked what you were about to say. Come on, finish the sentence. Give me the juicy details.”
Right. I was going to clarify what Cyan and I are not. I force a laugh. “Oh yeah, Cyan and I… it’s… It’s complicated.”
Judit narrows her eyes. “From how you were blushing just now, I’d say it’s more than just complicated.” Then she grins. “I can already imagine how cute your kids would be.” My heart slams against my ribs. Our kids? Mercy no.
The very idea sends a bolt of panic through me. Trying to shake the thought, I bite my lip. “I really don’t want to rush into any wild ideas about the future. I need to get home to my Nonna. I don’t want to be late.”
Judit pouts but nods. “Okay, girl, see you tomorrow.” She waves and rushes out the doors.
I wave her off, my mind still reeling. I came to Crescent Bay to take care of my grandmother and to live a quiet life.
Instead, thanks to Cyan, I’m the town spectacle, and to most of these people, Cyan MacBrady can do no wrong.
Fuck Cyan and fuck his orders. I’m the only one in the lobby.
I have time to avoid his guard dog. Walking outside, I turn toward the bus stop.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep voice calls from behind. I jump, a shriek ripping out of me. “Whoa, easy... it’s me. Johnny.” I whirl around to find a tall man with an easy stance and his hands raised in mock surrender. “Didn’t Cyan tell you I’d be picking you up?”
I exhale, pressing a hand to my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I could have done without any more surprise encounters today.”
He grins. “Aria, right? Cyan said… You and I are tied at the hip now.”
I glare. “Tied at the hip? Really? I don’t remember signing up for two peas in a pod situation, Johnny.” My hands move animatedly as I talk, my frustration bubbling over. “This is just another one of Cyan’s arrangements,” I air-quote the word. “One I didn’t ask for. Fucking Irish jackass.”
Johnny presses his lips tightly together, suppressing a grin, and nods once. “Ah. Now I see.”
“See what?” I snap. “After the day I’ve had, my patience is at its thinnest thread.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Why Cyan likes you. C got a sixth sense for strong personalities, and lucky for him, you’re a perfect match. Like peanut butter and jelly.”
I blink. What is wrong with these people? “Cyan and I aren’t a thing.”
“Sure thing, Ari. Keep telling yourself that.” He hands me a card.
“Add me to your contacts. You need anything, call me.” I grab the card and he turns towards the black SUV, expecting me to follow.
I spot the bus coming to a stop. Without thinking, I bolt towards it.
“Aria!” Johnny’s shout cuts through the air, just as the bus doors shut behind me.
I slump into a seat, breathless, pulse pounding.
Through the window, I glimpse Johnny pacing, phone to his ear.
Calling Cyan, no doubt, but I don’t care; I’ve had enough.
This wasn’t supposed to be my life. I was supposed to be invisible here.
Quiet and safe. Not watched. Not managed and claimed as his. My phone pings with a text.
Dove, remember actions have consequences. Don’t do that again. Or else.
When did he even get my number? Why am I surprised? The man’s a fucking stalker. I want to reply Fuck your consequences, but I don’t, not after Ethan.
I hop off at my stop. I look up at the overcast sky; I need to hurry before it bursts.
It’s only a ten-minute walk to my rented house, but after today’s events, it feels like a longer distance.
I don’t even make it an entire block before the low rumble of a high-performance engine has my spine locking up.
A sleek black SUV eases up beside me. Johnny, of course.
The window slides down. He rests his elbow on the window edge.
“Cute stunt, but next time you pull a bus heist, at least make sure I don’t drive faster than public transit.”
I glare at him. “Can you people take a hint?”
“Nah. We’re all stubborn like Cyan,” he grins. “Now, get in. Before your boyfriend puts a GPS in your bloodstream.”
“He’s not my—”
I cut myself off. What’s the point? Johnny gets out and opens the back passenger door. I don’t move. I’m about to walk away, but it’s like the universe is against me. The skies open as heavy rain pours. I could walk. Make a statement.
“Do you really want to test Cyan twice today?” Cyan saying the word consequences flashes through my mind.
Damn it, why does his voice echo in my head?
I exhale sharply through my nose and climb into the SUV.
It smells like leather and a faint, sharp, earthy masculine cologne–the opposite of Cyan’s dark spice.
“Seatbelt,” he says as he jumps into the driver’s seat.
“Unless you like living dangerously. Which I’m suspecting you do.
” I snap it in without a word, eyes fixed ahead. “You’re always this quiet?”
“Only when I’m around men who take orders from a psycho with control issues.”
“You say that like it’s an insult,” he chuckles. “But Cyan’s not like people think. He’s just intense. Focused and, yeah, possessive. But only with things he’s serious about.”
I cross my arms, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the burn rising behind my eyes. I didn’t ask for this. Didn’t ask to matter to a man like Cyan MacBrady. “Let me guess. You’re going to say he’s really just misunderstood.”
Johnny pulls onto my street, the SUV gliding to a stop in front of my house like it knows the way. “Nah. But for what it’s worth?” He glances at me as I reach for the door. “I think you’re in deep already, sweetheart. Might as well admit it to yourself before he breaks the door down.”
I shoot him a look, my hand frozen on the handle. “You’re just like him; you’re insufferable.”
He grins. “Maybe I got my way; you got in the car.”
I Slam the door behind me harder than necessary and head up the walkway, raindrops hitting my face. Deep down, I know he’s right. I’m already in it, and the worst part is, I’m not sure how to get out.
I try, though. The next morning, I wake early, get ready faster than usual, and slip out the door before Johnny can pull up.
My actions can’t have consequences if Johnny isn’t here.
It’s petty, passive, but Cyan’s not getting his way today.
Headphones in, I catch the bus, pretending to be invisible.
Thanks to Cyan, my workload is back to normal.
Lunch disappears at my desk; I finish early and order a ride on the app.
The side exit buys me a few precious seconds of freedom.
The ride home is longer than I remember.
I can’t help myself; I’m constantly biting my cheeks, expecting Johnny to pull up at any time.
I yawn, feeling sleep tug at me. It’s the price for waking up earlier, but it beats being chauffeured like a possession.
I arrive home with no sign of Johnny and no text from Cyan.
So, I do the same the next day, leaving home feeling victorious—until I see him.
Leaning against the black SUV, arms crossed, smug smile firmly in place.
Of course, Johnny’s here. The universe hates me.
He opens the door, and I get in. I don’t give up.
He may have caught me this morning, but I’ll win when it’s time to leave work.
I log out, pretend to head for the restroom, then swerve toward the elevator at the last second. He’s waiting when I step out.
The next day, I try again getting up even earlier.
Same result. He’s there, and when I try to leave work early, he’s there.
For an entire week, he nips my avoidance plans in the bud.
It becomes a game I’m losing. By next week, a routine settles in: I try to avoid him. He catches me. Every single time.
He’s polite but doesn’t push conversation like before, and I return the favor.
I should pry him for information, making the most of having Cyan’s driver within arm’s reach.
But I keep my distance, a silent protest against Cyan’s control.
Ping! I glance down at my phone, my lips curving into a small smile.
Tasha: Hey girl, I’m still drowning in documents. What’s up with you?
I exhale, grateful she’s in Florida, too busy with work to notice my mess of a life. Guilt presses against my ribs, but I shake it off as I reply.
Me: All good, Tash. Got the last of the payroll done today. Heading home now.
Her response is almost instantaneous.
Tasha: Nice, Ari. I’ll talk to you soon.