Chapter 10
Freya POV:
A few more days drifted by, slow and measured.
Despite Harvey's heavy parting words, he hadn't called me in for any more private "talks."
During the sales meetings, he stopped singling me out.
Everything felt like it had reverted to a state of normalcy—as if nothing had ever happened.
Except for the gaze.
I could still feel it, heavy and recurring, trailing me when I wasn't looking.
And then there were the proposals.
I had revised them several times based on his feedback.
But the final versions sent to the clients always bore his final polish.
He'd gone through and refined the last draft himself.
The result?
Client feedback was better than it had ever been.
But he'd said he wouldn't let me go.
And he meant it.
He was a man of relentless perseverance—a hunter who never lost sight of his mark.
That was why this recent bout of "peace" didn't put me at ease.
It felt like the eye of a storm.
I needed a way out.
----
Another rainy day.
I had nearly been late this morning because I couldn't catch an Uber for the life of me.
Getting a ride in this weather was a nightmare—I knew the drill.
So, after the clock struck five, I took my time organizing my files.
I wanted to wait out the rush hour.
One by one, my colleagues filtered out.
The light in Harvey's office remained on.
Soon, I was the only one left in the bullpen.
I opened the app and waited, but the minutes ticked by with no one accepting my request.
Outside, the downpour only intensified.
The door to Harvey's office opened.
I immediately busied myself at my computer, pretending to be buried in work.
He walked straight toward me and stopped at the edge of my desk.
"No car today?"
"…No."
My phone screen was still glowing, the app interface exposed.
I clicked it off, but it was too late.
He looked toward the window.
"I'll drive you. In this weather, you'll never get a car."
"I'm fine, thank you."
I practically sprinted out of the office.
The moment I hit the elevator, I jammed the "close door" button.
He didn't follow.
And I let out a long, ragged breath of relief.
But my luck ran out the moment I reached the lobby.
I stood there for thirty minutes, watching the "No Cars Available" icon mock me.
I bumped the fare to a 3x surge, and finally, a driver bit.
I watched the little car icon on my screen with bated breath as it crawled toward my street.
Then, just as it reached the corner, the icon vanished.
Damn it.
The driver had canceled.
The rain turned into a literal wall of water.
I leaned against a marble pillar in the lobby, staring up at the ceiling in defeat.
My phone buzzed.
It was Harvey.
I didn't want to pick up.
I let it ring until it timed out, but he called again instantly.
Fine.
"The office is closed, Boss. If you want work done, it'll have to wait until tomorrow."
"You still haven't caught a ride, have you?"
His voice sounded almost warm against the backdrop of the icy rain.
I stayed silent.
"Meet me at the front."
The line went dead. He didn't give me a second to argue.
A moment later, his car pulled up under the overhang.
"Thanks, but I actually just found one—"
"Stop being stubborn."
Before I could react, his hand hooked under my thighs and he hoisted me up with one arm.
"Let go of me!"
I scrambled in a panic, but I was more terrified of slipping from his grip.
I didn't dare scream.
The last thing I needed was to draw a crowd.
He didn't let go until he'd shoved me into the passenger seat.
I pushed him away the second I was landed.
"Two years, and you're still this headstrong."
He grabbed the seatbelt, leaning across my body to click it into place.
For that heartbeat, his face was only inches from mine.
Too close.
Close enough to feel the heat of his breath.
I pressed my spine against the leather, my heart hammering so hard it was painful.
He didn't speak, and he didn't move away.
He stared into my eyes, and I watched the coldness in his gaze slowly ignite into a slow-burn fire.
I don't know how long we stayed frozen like that.
Not until my fingers twitched uncontrollably did I finally avert my eyes and whisper, "Fine… just drive."
My voice was so soft it was barely a breath.
He still didn't move.
His hand remained braced against the seat beside me, his breathing mingling with mine.
He watched me with that look… the look I knew all too well.
The way he used to look at me during all those nights, two years ago.
My heart constricted violently.
Instinctively, I jerked my head to the side.
"Drive," I said.
This time, my voice was louder, sharper.
Almost as if I were pleading with him.
He stared at me for a few long seconds, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly.
Finally, he pulled back.
The car door slammed shut.
The engine roared to life.
The car glided into the curtain of rain, and the silence between us became absolute. But in that moment, I knew—
Something had already spiraled out of control.
----
The thirty-minute drive felt like an eternity.
As we finally approached my neighborhood, I cleared my throat.
"You can just drop me at the curb up ahead."
He didn't respond.
I wanted to remind him, but the words died in my throat.
Fortunately, he eventually wrenched the steering wheel and pulled over.
He muttered a curt "stay put" before opening his umbrella and stepping out into the storm.
I pushed my door open to find a massive umbrella already shielding me.
Before I could move, his arm hooked around me again, hoisting me up in one fluid motion.
"Put me down, I can walk..."
He acted as if he were stone-deaf, striding through the rain with long, purposeful steps.
He didn't set me back on my feet until we were safely inside the lobby.
"Floor?"
My heart sank, but I managed to whisper.
"Fifth."
The elevator doors slid open, and he followed me in.
I wanted to tell him to stay back, but the words wouldn't come.
He stood so close.
In the damp chill of the rainy day, the heat radiating from his body was impossible to ignore.
Finally, I reached my door and pulled out my keys.
I hesitated, glancing at him.
He showed no intention of leaving.
"I'm... I'm home. Thanks."
I left the rest of the sentence hanging.
He was silent for a moment, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register.
"I want to talk.
“Privately."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I bit my lower lip, weighing the options.
"Fine. Come in."
We had to clear the air eventually.
We never got a proper goodbye two years ago.
Maybe today was the day to finally finish what we started.
He stepped inside and scanned my apartment.
I gestured for him to sit on the sofa and grabbed a pack of tissues.
"Your pant legs are soaked..." I pulled out a few sheets. "Do you want to do it, or should I?"
His attention seemed anchored to the space around him—to my life.
He gave a distracted reply:
"You do it."
The fabric was drenched.
I folded the tissues, trying to blot the water.
When he'd carried me from the car, he'd kept the umbrella positioned perfectly over me, leaving nothing for himself.
"This isn't working," I said, stopping. "I'll get the hairdryer."
"Don't—"
I didn't wait for him to finish.
I was already gone.
A moment later, the whir of the dryer filled the room, a welcome distraction from the awkward silence.
My thoughts were a chaotic mess.
He used to do this for me—
He'd dry my hair, inch by inch, and sometimes he'd lean in and press a kiss to the back of my neck...
His hand clamped over mine, cutting through my reverie.
"Freya," he said softly. "Forget the dryer."
I froze.
He took the dryer from my hand.
I moved to grab it back, but then I saw the fire in his eyes.
I looked down, my heart rate skyrocketing.
His fingertips traced the line of my cheek before settling on my chin.
His thumb began to graze my lower lip.
"Stop keeping me at arm's length, okay?"
His voice was hoarse, fractured, heavy with years of suppressed emotion.
Lost.
I nodded.
Then immediately shook my head.
My mind was a blur.
He moved closer, his hands sliding around my waist—warm, powerful, and certain.
"Why hasn't your leg healed yet?" he asked. "How many more things are you hiding from me?"
My spine went rigid.
I didn't know how to answer.
Then, a kiss fell softly against my lips.
"Talk to me."
His voice was achingly tender.
His lips were warm, and this time, I didn't pull away.
I was too hungry for him—
Starved.
Even.
So I met him halfway.
We kissed with a frantic, desperate greed, like two people who had been waiting a lifetime for this moment.
His hand tangled in the hair at the back of my head, anchoring me, deepening the kiss until my breath was a jagged mess and my skin felt like it was on fire.
Our tongues met, and every ounce of my resolve began to crumble, piece by piece.
"Freya..." he rasped against my lips, his voice a low, broken murmur. "Don't leave me again.
“Not ever."
My mind was a haze.
A small, involuntary moan escaped my throat.
I didn't even know if it was an answer or just a surrender.
Shaking, he lifted me, pulling me onto his lap.
He moved with a frantic energy, stealing the air from my lungs, and I felt my heart beginning to liquefy.
I could feel the hard, unmistakable ridge of his arousal against me.
My own body responded instantly, a treacherous heat blooming deep inside.
Panic flared in my chest for a second.
I gripped his arms, my knuckles white.
He kissed me harder, his hand tracing the line of my thigh, moving upward with a slow, deliberate touch.
Waves of warmth surged through me, and for a moment, I felt myself starting to melt into him.
But the moment his hand brushed higher, I went rigid.
Instinctively, I slammed my hand over his, pinning it down.
A phantom pain—sharp and cold—seemed to radiate from the scar on my leg.
My breathing stopped dead.
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me.
"Don't touch me..."
My voice was a trembling wreck.
I shoved him back with everything I had and scrambled to my feet, more like a hunted animal than a woman in love.
He blinked, stunned.
"Freya—"
"Stay back!"
I recoiled, every breath a stinging needle in my lungs.
I couldn't look at him.
I knew that if I stayed in that room for one more second, I would shatter completely.
I reached for the door, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the handle.
"Leave," I choked out, the sob rising in my throat. "Just go."
He stood there, frozen.
He looked like he wanted to say something—anything—but the words never came. After an agonizing silence, he finally whispered a single word.
"Okay."
The second the door clicked shut, the apartment felt cavernous.
Hollow.
I leaned my back against the wood, paralyzed.
I didn't move until I heard the distant chime of the elevator down the hall.
Ding.
Only then did I slide down to the floor, the tears finally breaking through, uncontrollable and hot.