Chapter Seven- I'm not marrying him!

"Aria, I want you... now."

His voice is low, husky and full of want. He walks towards me and sits beside me on the bed, his deep blue eyes never leaving mine as his hand rises, brushing my cheek in a slow, tender caress. I feel my heart slam against my chest.

"I thought you could be just my secretary…" His continues as his thumb moves to my jaw, tilting it up to level with his. "But now, I want you to be something more."

"More?" My voice is breathless, caught by the way his touch lingers on my skin, possessive and gentle all at once.

"Yes. I want you to be mine...and mine alone." His words wrap around me, and before I can respond, his right hand slides down to the nape of my neck, holding me there, close enough that I feel his warm breath on my face.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, Aria?" His left hand slides around my waist, pulling me closer. He leans in, eyes darkening as his gaze drops, lingering on my lips. His dark, tousled hair falls over his forehead and I suddenly feel the urge to reach out and run my fingers through it. My hands remained pinned to my sides though.

I close my eyes and feel him tilt even closer, brushing back a strand of hair, his breath mingling with mine until there's no space left. He's going to—

My eyes snap open.

I jerk awake, my breath catching as reality comes crashing back.

I stare up at the canopy bed and the drapes that sway ever so slightly, mocking me. I blink, bringing myself back to reality, and realize that it was just a dream—a very vivid dream.

I'm still tense as I become aware of a presence across the room. I turn, cheeks already heating up as I take in the sight of Mr Crane, casually sitting on the couch, legs crossed, his arms draped along the back as he watches me with an unreadable expression. Has he… been sitting there the whole time?

He raises a brow, eyes scanning me curiously. "Interesting nap?"

I sit up, clearing my throat and brushing a hand through my hair as if that could possibly cover my embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I… didn't mean to fall asleep for so long." If only he knew just what I'd been dreaming about.

I sense a smirk creeping in. "Evidently. Though, I'll admit I didn't think you'd be bold enough to test out the bed quite so thoroughly on your first day." His voice has that teasing edge that's just a little too smooth, too casual, like he knows exactly how tense I am.

"Uhm…" I try to compose myself but my cheeks are definitely betraying me.

He glances at his watch, and his tone shifts. "You've been sleeping for over an hour, Miss Cole." His voice has hint of irritation peeking through. "Impressive, first day, and here you are, wasting valuable time."

My heart skips. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Crane, I—"

He cuts me off with a wave. "Forget it. You must be hungry. What will you like for lunch?"

You.

"Uhm...I'm fine with anything."

He picks up the phone beside him, dials room service and orders a bowl of Italian chicken pasta. After he hangs up, he raises an eyebrow and says, "You do like pasta right?"

Yes, but I think you'll taste better.

Wait, what? Way to go, Aria, I mentally facepalm, snapping myself back to reality. 'This is your boss, not some guy you're supposed to drool over.' I clear my throat, trying to shake the embarrassing train of thought.

Honestly, it's probably this suite's fault, with its romantic lighting and… that ridiculously inviting canopy bed in the corner. I mentally blame the decor for pushing my thoughts off track. Professionalism, Aria. Professionalism!

I snap my attention back to him, and just as I do, he gives me one of those intense looks that only makes things worse. Right. Because that's helping.

"Yes! Pasta is fine."

The food arrives soon after. I settle in across from him, doing my best not to make a complete fool of myself as I eat, while he sits back, and focuses all his attention on his phone.

Doesn't he like lunch?

After I'm done, he stands, brushing off his suit as he signals for us to leave. We make our way back through the hotel, but I can feel his eyes on me every few moments, assessing—maybe even a bit annoyed.

Once we're back in the car, he adjusts his cuffs, looking ahead as he speaks, his tone clipped. "You're going home for the rest of the day, Miss Cole. Clearly, you need the rest."

I turn to protest, but he holds up a hand, stopping me before I can even start. "I need someone reliable, Miss Cole. If rest is what it takes for you to function, then take it." The impatience in his voice is clear, and as we drive in silence, all I can do is sit there, too flustered and rattled to even think about what this job might demand of me tomorrow.

The ride back is silent. We both sit in the back seat of the Bentley without saying a word the car stops at the office, and he steps out, pausing only to give me a sharp look.

"Go home, rest," he orders before walking into the building without another word. The driver nods at his silent command and pulls back into traffic.

The driver asks for my address and inputs it into the state-of-the-art GPS system before driving off into traffic. Minutes later, we pull up in front of my apartment. I step out, murmuring a quick "thanks" to the driver, and make my way inside, the quiet of my space a welcome relief from the tension of the day.

 ✧

After a cold shower, the water washing away the day's heat, I settle on my couch, laptop in hand as I sift through Mr Crane's schedule for the week. I start inputting notes and sorting tasks which I had been given earlier. My mind is locked on work until my phone vibrates, startling me.

I pick it up, my heart dropping when I see Mom flashing on the screen. I hesitate, fingers trembling for some seconds as I deliberate whether to pick up the call or not.

Ever since I've moved here, my mother has only called me twice, both times begging me to move back into hiding with them. And of course, I turned down her offer. Finally, I answer, pressing the phone to my ear. "Mom?"

"Aria, sweetheart." Her voice is strained but holds a glimmer of warmth I haven't heard in months. "How are you? I've been so worried."

"I'm... managing. How's Dad?" I ask cautiously, hoping for good news.

"He's getting better." She says and sighs. "He misses you so much, Aria." I swallow hard before adding, "Any word from Josh?" The silence that follows stretches uncomfortably.

"No," she admits with a sigh, pain lacing her words. "Still nothing from your brother."

My chest tightens. The absence of Josh was a gaping hole that refused to close. "Oh."

"But listen, Aria, there's something important I need to tell you," she continues, the tone in her voice shifting to something almost hopeful. "Philip came by to see me today."

"Oh." I say, uninterested.

"Aria please listen to me. He said he's willing to help pay off the debt... if you come back home and marry him."

"Philip?" I repeat, disbelief evident in my tone. I can practically see his bland smile, hear his predictable chatter. The boy who followed me around like a shadow, whose kind eyes and safe demeanor were everything I didn't want.

"Yes, Philip. He's serious this time, Aria. Think about it—he could take care of you, of us."

My jaw tightens, the weight of her words suffocating. My gaze hardens, eyes narrowing as I whisper fiercely, "I'm not marrying him, Mom."