For a few seconds after he drove off, I couldn't even breathe. The sound of the engine swallowed everything, my thoughts, my voice, my sanity. What just happened?
Aec didn't even look back at Zion. He just… took me. Like I was a thing that belonged to him.
I sat stiff for a minute, watching the city lights flicker through the tinted glass before I finally snapped. "What the hell was that, Aec?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.... Calling my boss by his name .
Waw, I just got hit by a breeze of work termination, but thinking properly... He isn't my boss so I can express myself freely.. Ofcourse
"You can't just drag me away like, like some kind of..."
I didn't know how to complete the statement... I didn't know what to say, I was blank
His eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw tight, fingers gripping the steering wheel like he was punishing it for existing.
I scoffed. "Oh, so we're doing the silent treatment now? Great. Classic. You ruin my evening and now you can't even talk?"
Still nothing from him.
I rolled my eyes, folding my arms. "You know, I should probably thank you for showing me what being kidnapped feels like. Maybe next time you can..."
The car jerked violently to the side as he braked hard. My body lurched forward and before I could even gasp, his arm shot out, palm flat against my chest, stopping me from hitting the dashboard.
For a heartbeat, the world froze. His hand was right there, pressed over my racing heart, the warmth of his skin cutting through my blouse like fire through thin paper.
I blinked, stunned at his action.
Then his voice cut the silence, cold and sharp enough to slice through bone. "Just shut up for once, Sharon."
I stared at him, speechless.
His eyes met mine, dark, empty, and so cold I actually forgot to breathe.
"Do you ever stop talking?" he continued, voice low, dangerous. "You act like the world revolves around your noise. Just… stop being a damn dumbass for one second."
My mouth dropped open.
Excuse me?
I wanted to say something, anything but the words got lost somewhere between my throat and pride.
When I finally looked out the window, confusion twisted in my chest. "Wait… where, where are we?"
The car had stopped in front of a large black gate with silver lining that gleamed beneath the streetlights. Beyond it stood a wide, two-story house, sleek, modern, all sharp edges and tinted glass. It didn't feel like home; it felt like power. The place warned you before you even stepped in: don't touch anything unless you're invited.
I frowned. "This isn't my place."
He didn't respond. Just got out, slammed the door, and walked around to my side.
"No. No, no, no..." I quickly clicked my seatbelt back on. "You're insane if you think I'm stepping one foot out there. Take me home, Sire."
He didn't bother answering. The door opened, and a rush of cool air hit my face.
I clutched my bag tighter. "I said take me home!"
His patience clearly ended three sentences ago. Without a word, he leaned down, unbuckled my seatbelt, and before I could react, his arm slid under me.
"What are you... Aec!" I forgot about formalities now
I pushed at his chest, wriggling in protest. My blouse strained, and in the chaos, I heard the quiet pop, one button... then another.
"Stop..."
But he didn't. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, his grip firm and unyielding.
The night air brushed my skin where my shirt had opened slightly, and I froze as I felt his gaze, not on my face, but lower.
Right on the curve of my chest, rising and falling with every breath I took.
He didn't even pretend not to notice.
When our eyes finally met, his voice came out in that quiet, cruel whisper that made my stomach knot. "I thought they were fuller. Guess it's all bra."
My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
A smirk flickered there and gone in a second. Then he lifted me higher, ignoring my indignation.
"Put me down, Sire!" I snapped, slapping his shoulder, but it only earned me his next low, savage murmur.
"Careful," he said, his voice brushing my ear. "You struggle too much, and it won't be just your buttons. It'll be your skirt next."
I went completely still.
He carried me past the gate as it opened automatically, the house lights flicking on in a slow, intimidating glow. Everything about the place screamed wealth... the marble steps, the clean lines of black steel, the glass balcony above.
When he finally set me down at the entrance, I stumbled a bit, glaring up at him.
"You're unbelievable," I muttered.
He ignored me again, punching in a code on a panel beside the door. The lock clicked, and the heavy door swung open to reveal a wide interior bathed in warm amber light.
The inside was just as breathtaking or intimidating as the outside. Minimalist but luxurious. Black leather couches, glass table, tall art pieces that looked too expensive to even look at. Everything smelled faintly of cedar and spice and him.
I took one step forward toward the couch, mostly to breathe, but his voice stopped me cold.
"Don't sit."
I froze.
"What?"
His gaze met mine, sharp and cutting. "You heard me. Don't sit."
My brow arched. "Why not? Is the furniture allergic to women you drag off the street?"
"Because," he said, voice dropping into something almost dark,
"because I am your boss, don't you dare"
I got lost for some time again before I could process...
"you wanted to be here so badly. So stand there and take it in."
I blinked at him, confusion and anger mixing. "Wanted...? You literally dragged me here..."
He was in front of me before I could finish, his steps heavy, precise. In a blink, his hand caught my wrist and I was pressed against the wall, not too hard, but enough to shut me up.
My breath caught.
His face was so close I could see the storm in his eyes not passion. Rage...
"Watch your mouth," he said, voice low and venomous. "I've warned you before."
His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make me swallow hard.
"I'm your boss," he hissed. "Not your plaything. Not your friend. Don't you ever talk to me like that again."
Something in my chest twisted,all the anger, humiliation, something else I didn't want to name.
I didn't reply. Well I couldn't.
He let go, stepping back like I'd burned him. For a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing, uneven and loud in the silent room.
Then he pulled out his phone.
"Since you love acting like you don't remember anything," he muttered, unlocking it. "Let's refresh your memory."
The screen lit up, and before I could ask, he pressed play.
My heart dropped.
There I was in the video... Me.
Hair messy, half-naked, face flushed, it was all me...Grabbing a pen, laughing, scrawling something across a white sheet, and the camera caught every second of it.
The words glared up at me from the paper in my handwriting:
"F*ckaholic Partnership: Sharon & Aec."
I felt my throat close.
No. No way.
I could see myself signing it, smiling while doing it. Then walking over to where he sat and shoving the pen toward him like it was some sort of game.
The sound of my own voice playful, tipsy and breathless ... echoed through the room:
"Now sign, Aec. It's official."
He stopped the video before I could see more.
I stood frozen.
"You...you recorded that?" I whispered.
He said nothing.
"That's illegal, Aec... I mean Sire...You can't, you can't just..."
Finally, his eyes lifted to meet mine again calm and giving final.
"Pick a date when we start," he said flatly, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Now get out."
My lips parted, but no words came.
His gaze didn't soften, not even for a second.
And that's when it hit me, the man standing in front of me wasn't the Aec I thought I was teasing at the park. This version of him was colder, darker… untouchable.
I didn't even know which hurt more... the insult or the reminder that I'd done this to myself.