Sweet Hatred
Chapter 100: No Future

Chapter 100: No Future

The question hit like a slap.

I blinked. "Kael is my boss. My employer."

"Mm." Another chuckle, but this one carried a razor’s edge. "Let’s not pretend."

And just like that, the mask slipped.

I understood exactly why he was here.

He wasn’t checking in. He wasn’t here for the project or some mentorly pep talk. He was here because he knew. Or at least, he suspected.

I straightened, letting my shoulders roll back, spine firm. "It’s a professional relationship," I said coolly even though I wanted to jump out the window if I could. "That’s all it’s ever been."

A lie. A necessary one.

"Professional relationship my ass." I scoffed silently, briefly snapping myself back to the present."Your son is a pervert." I muttered under my breath.

Sarah was still going off about something but I zoned out again. Back into that office. That silent life or death judgement.

Mr. Roman had studied me then, quiet and still, like he was trying to psych me out with silence. I knew the tactic. Intimidation cloaked in calm. That was Kael’s move too, though he used it with a little more heat. This man... he was ice.

But I didn’t blink. I wouldn’t blink. And then—

He smiled again. "No one has dared look at me in the eyes like that. You’ve got guts."

He then stood up slowly. Not like someone getting up to leave a meeting. No. It was deliberate—measured. Like a lion uncoiling from its perch, every motion smooth, every movement controlled. I tensed automatically, hands curled into fists beneath the desk.

He leaned forward, planting both palms on the edge of my desk, those green eyes locking onto mine again.

"Whatever it is that’s brewing," he said, voice dipped in warning, "whatever idea you may have about your place here... I suggest you keep it in check, Ms. Thorne."

My throat dried.

He didn’t say Kael’s name. Didn’t say affair or inappropriate or termination—but the message pulsed through every syllable. He might as well have branded it across my chest.

My lips curled into a tight smile, the kind women have been trained for centuries to wear when they’re being threatened by a man in power.

"Of course," I said, voice even. "My position here is strictly professional."

A lie wrapped in pearls.

He watched me for a second longer, like he was daring me to flinch. I didn’t. I refused to. I held that gaze like it was a game of Russian roulette, even though my heart was tap-dancing against my ribs and sweat was dripping down my back, cold beneath my blouse.

Then—He pulled back. That cold, cutting smile returned.

"You’ll go far if you learn how to keep it that way."

My jaw clenched.

And then, like someone flipping a switch, he relaxed. Straightened his cuffs. Smoothed down the front of his jacket with ease.

The monster put his mask back on.

"You’re bright, Aria," he said, turning to the door. "Don’t waste your fire."

My stomach twisted.

He stepped out, the door creaking open. But he paused, one hand on the frame, and glanced back.

"You must be wondering where Kael is."

I said nothing. I didn’t dare.

"He’s handling something for me," he said, a flicker of amusement curling around the edges of his tone. "You’ll find he’s not quite the man he pretends to be. He’s much more brutal."

The words crawled under my skin like worms. He tapped the door with two fingers. "His first love could’ve testified to that, but..."

First love? What the? Before I could ask, before I could breathe—

He was gone. The door clicked shut.

And I had sat there—hands trembling beneath the desk, breath caught in my throat, chest rising and falling like I’d just survived a warzone, wondering what the fuck had just happened?

I snapped out of the memory like I’d been slapped. The fries on my tray had gone cold, but I shoved another one into my mouth anyway—more salt, less thoughts.

"If Mr. Roman wanted to scare me off," I muttered under my breath, "he could’ve just handed me a fat check. Hell, I would’ve disappeared into the sunset with zero complaints. No forwarding address. New name, new tits, new life."

The words were bitter, laced in sarcasm, but they didn’t taste nearly as good as the fries. My jaw clenched, and I forced myself to chew slowly, like I was trying to keep the adrenaline from leaking out of my throat. But it was still there—coiled in my gut, humming under my skin like a warning I couldn’t unhear.

Across from me, Sarah kept rambling, totally unaware of the war zone that had just played out in my brain. Something about a clingy client and way too many questions about her love life.

I didn’t catch all of it. Didn’t need to. I just needed something to anchor me before I drowned in the aftershocks.

"—and then he asked me if I like men with boats or motorcycles. What is this, The Bachelor?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, lifting her drink to her lips, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It came out harsh, like I was trying to exhale the weight pressing down on my shoulders.

But it didn’t leave.

It stayed.

Coiled. Heavy. Unseen but loud.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake it off, but the muscles refused to unclench. Tension gripped them like a vice.

Sarah noticed. Of course she did.

"Your shoulders stiff?" she asked, setting her glass down and already pushing her chair back.

I gave a weak nod, lips full of fries and self-loathing. "Like steel rods," I mumbled.

She stood behind me without hesitation, her fingers digging into the knots near my neck, and I let my head drop forward with a quiet groan. The pressure helped, a little. The pain was good. It gave me something to focus on that wasn’t a pair of green eyes staring straight into the bone of me.

I wanted to relax. I really, really wanted to.

But the unease in my chest refused to ease up. No matter how good Sarah’s fingers were. It was still there. Clawing. Whispering. Like a warning that hadn’t finished delivering itself.

Her hands worked skillfully across my shoulders, and for a moment, I wanted to let myself believe it could undo everything—that a good friend, a plate of fries, and some half-decent massage pressure could fix what had burrowed its way under my skin.

But I couldn’t. Not really. Because beneath the relief, the question was still there.

Would dating Kael Roman always feel like this? Like walking a tightrope over a pit of knives—one wrong move and you’re bleeding.

I sighed through my nose, eyes slipping closed. My heads rested on Sarah’s soft bosom but the image of his father’s smile—too knowing, too amused—burned behind my eyelids.

That man didn’t need words to threaten someone. He could break your resolve with a glance. And if that was the blueprint Kael came from, then what the hell was I doing?

My thoughts spiraled like they always did, reaching for clarity and landing in chaos.

Then I cut myself off.

Kael didn’t even want a relationship. That much was obvious. I wasn’t his girlfriend. I wasn’t his lover, not really.

I was his favorite pastime. His favorite game.

Mr. Roman had nothing to worry about. Really. There was no future here.

Well—unless he was worried about how hard and often his son fucked me into the mattress like he was trying to erase every other man that ever touched me. Then yeah, maybe he should lose some sleep.

I shoved another fry into my mouth, chewing harder than necessary. Let him worry. I was too tired to.