Entering the office never felt so hard and heavy, knowing Aaron must be inside.
My emotions are all over the place, and my body feels heavier and exhausted, though I'm wearing a yellow mermaid skirt hugging my hips with a white turtleneck sweater.
My hair is tied into a ponytail, baby hairs framing my round face as I move through the corridor filled with people starting their shifts.
The smell of coffee and ink, the clicks of heels and leather shoes against the white marble floor, and the murmuring of morning conversations across the floor make it feel like just any other Tuesday.
But for me, it's different.
I push open the glass door of the cabin. Luke is hovering around Mark's monitor as they observe the opening market. Eric is eating a hot dog while looking at something on his laptop, and Elena is busy doing touch-ups on her makeup.
Aaron stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass window that offers a beautiful morning view of London, holding a black coffee mug in his hand.
My heart squeezes painfully when I notice a bandage wrapped around his knuckles. It wasn't there yesterday morning. I feel the urge to rush and take his hand into mine, to ask how he got hurt badly enough to be bandaged. My throat tightens as if someone is choking me at the thought of him in pain.
Aaron turns his head, and our eyes meet. Everything else around me fades.
The clicking of keyboards, the hum of the air conditioner, the murmuring of soft talk inside and outside the cabin — all fade into the background.
He isn't wearing his usual black suit. Instead, something different, something that makes him look far too attractive in a less intimidating way.
A light grey knit sweater with a polo-style collar, slightly loose and textured, paired with high-waisted pleated trousers in a light beige color. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing his veiny forearms. A Cartier watch with a black leather strap and diamond studs around the rim sits on his wrist, and his gold winged ring rests on his thumb.
Aaron doesn't say anything or give away any of the softness I didn't know I had become used to.
His arctic blue eyes rest like an unmoved glacier — no emotion, no softness.
A sharp pang shoots through my chest, like hundreds of needles piercing my heart. And who can I even blame?
My head dips low as I walk to my desk, Aaron's gaze never leaving me until I sit down.
He doesn't say anything. No good morning. No how are you. No remarks.
It's hard to ignore the twisted, bitter feeling in my chest and gut — the consequence of my own actions. The hollow absence of his interest in me feels too heavy and constraining.
My eyes sting, and I blink fast, trying not to let tears fall. But it hurts so much.
What was I expecting? That he would chase after me like some shameless man with nothing better to do?
For God's sake, Aaron Erikson is every woman's dream man — gentle, understanding, reliable, smart, trustworthy, one of the youngest VPs of Laurent & Cie, and handsome enough to make angels shy away.
As if he's running a charity, waiting for me to decide he's safe enough for me to drown again.
Still, I feel resentful. A bitter, gnawing resentment directed at him for nothing.
The day goes on. Aaron gives us tasks to do. Luke brings in coffee for everyone every now and then. Mark throws in witty comments whenever Eric acts like a sneaky snake or when Elena tries to strike up a conversation with him.
Aaron directs everyone, answers questions when asked, or just works quietly on his laptop.
I try to act normal, but I can't.
After sitting at my desk for nearly four hours, I take a break, more to escape the tension knotting inside me. I feel Aaron's lingering gaze on me as I walk out of the cabin. Like a fool, I glance over my shoulder and find him already staring at me.
My heart skips a beat, and my breath hitches before I hurry out to stop myself from doing something ridiculous.
Without much thought, my feet lead me to the 30th floor terrace — more to escape, more to avoid.
As I step out of the elevator, the warm sunlight reflects off the pool as the wind makes me shiver slightly.
London hums around me — tall steel and glass buildings with exotic architecture rising like they're touching the sky.
I wonder if it looks this beautiful from the 30th floor. How does it look from the top?
The elevator dings behind me. Before I can turn around, expecting some coworker sneaking out for a cigarette break, I feel strong arms wrap around my waist and push me against the corner wall.
That familiar, expensive male cologne makes my body come alive.
It's Aaron. His eyes are maddening, restless, as he lifts me effortlessly against the wall, making me gasp.
"Aaron—" My words are cut off as his lips crash against mine with desperation and haste.
I'm not supposed to kiss him back after what I told him yesterday and the days before. But I'm too overwhelmed not to respond to his desperation. I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs hooking around his waist as I draw him closer.
He tastes like coffee and cigarettes, needy and anxious. His hand supports me against the wall while the other slips around my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
He sucks on my lower lip, breathing ragged, almost maddening. I gasp into his mouth, tilting my head to the side.
Our tongues and lips move with feverish need. I scratch the back of his head, and he lets out a deep "mmm" that makes me lose my mind.
He pulls back slowly, panting, sweating slightly. His hair is messy from my fingers, his pupils wide and dark.
My red lipstick is smeared all over his lips, and the sight makes me feel strangely possessive.
"I can't do it," he mumbles, his head dropping onto my collarbone like a defeated man. My heart flips wildly.
"What?" I whisper.
"Act like I can survive without you." He laughs softly, but there's no humor in it. My heart races just like his, and my throat feels dry.
"You've ruined me, Princess. I'm yours even when you don't want me, and it's driving me insane — how much I want you, how much I need to be needed by you just to feel human."
This isn't a confession. It's a declaration from a man who built impenetrable walls around his heart and soul.
A sound leaves my mouth, something between a sob and a laugh — something I'm too weak to deny.