Sweet Hatred
Chapter 186: UTTERLY FUCKED

Chapter 186: UTTERLY FUCKED

He looked down at me, face unreadable as always, masking whatever was going on inside that dark, arrogant mind. I hated not knowing. I hated not being able to anticipate him. I hated how every day with Kael was a game of chess where I didn’t even know the rules.

Then, with that same perfectly dangerous smirk he used when closing billion-dollar deals or threatening someone’s life in polite, glossy words, he turned to Sarah.

"Do you mind if I steal Aria away for the afternoon?" he asked smoothly, like this was just some cute boyfriend thing and not an executive power move disguised as charm.

Sarah froze, eyes bouncing between us like she just walked in on a hostage negotiation.

And me?

I wanted to scream.

"What are you doing?" I asked again, my voice lower this time, sharper. Sharper than I felt.

Sarah let out a nervous laugh, fumbling with the strap of her purse. "Um—I can just, you know, come back or—"

Kael turned to me before she could finish, and this time, his expression wasn’t unreadable. It was... softened. Which was almost worse. Like he thought he could disarm me with tenderness now.

"I want to have lunch with you," he said, voice quiet enough that it hit like a whisper. "And since you’re already tied up with Sarah, I figured maybe I could... cut in."

Cut in. Like this was a damn high school dance.

"I don’t remember asking you to do that," I snapped.

"You didn’t have to."

I tried to pull my wrist from his grip. Nothing. It was like trying to wrestle with iron.

"Let go, Kael," I warned, my glare burning into his.

He didn’t move. Instead, he stepped in closer, his fingers tightening the slightest bit, just enough to tell me I wasn’t going anywhere until he said so. His breath hit my cheek, warm and maddening.

"Why are you being strange?"

The question hit like a slap, not because of the words, but because of the softness behind them. That quiet concern that made me feel even more out of control. Like he was worried. Like he cared. And the worst part? My chest betrayed me by clenching in that stupid way it always did when he got too close.

"I’m not acting strange," I said, barely above a whisper. "You’re imagining things."

He didn’t move, didn’t blink.

"You’re the one who needs to learn to listen to people," I went on, trying to re-armor myself with words, with anger. "You can’t just keep assuming you’ll always get your way—"

"But I always do."

It wasn’t smug. It wasn’t even teasing. It was a simple, horrifying truth spoken like fact. And it made my stomach churn.

Behind us, the door clicked as Sarah began inching it open with the care of someone trying not to set off a landmine. I turned my head sharply.

"Don’t," I said. "Don’t go."

She paused, wide-eyed. "I really don’t mind, Aria. You can have lunch with Mr. Roman. It’s okay—"

"No, it’s not," I cut her off. My voice was firm. Sharp. "You’re having lunch with me."

I could feel Kael looking at me, but I didn’t dare turn around. Not yet. Sarah glanced between us like she was watching a train derail in slow motion, and she shifted uneasily toward the door again.

"I said don’t take another step," I snapped.

Kael’s voice followed, smooth as smoke. "You can leave her with me, Sarah."

"Shut your mouth, Kael."

Silence. Crushing, brittle silence.

I think even the air felt like it was holding its breath.

Sarah looked pale. So pale. Like she was on the verge of either vomiting or evaporating. And suddenly guilt began gnawing at my insides, thick and heavy and ugly.

Kael’s voice broke through the quiet again, lower this time. "Did I do something?"

I didn’t answer. I just kept trying to twist my arm out of his grip. Still locked. Still unmovable. I kept glaring, even though it felt like my eyes were stinging from the effort of not blinking.

Then—finally—he let go.

Just like that. His hand slipped away, and for the briefest second, I saw something flicker across his face. Hurt. Real, raw, unfiltered hurt. So fast it almost didn’t register, and yet I felt it lodge in my throat like a splinter.

He sighed, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out his black card.

"Use this," he murmured, holding it out. "Lunch is on me."

I stared at it like it was something vile. Something infected. "No."

Then I turned, walked past him without another word, and grabbed Sarah by the arm, dragging her with me as I pushed open the door and left the office behind.

Behind me, I could feel the weight of his gaze. Burning holes through my back.

But I didn’t turn around.

I couldn’t.

Because I knew if I looked at him again, I might not leave at all.

I stormed out of the office like it was on fire, dragging Sarah behind me like some furious mother hauling her kid out of a candy store. I didn’t stop. Not until we were inside the elevator and the doors closed with a quiet ding, trapping us in that tiny metal box that suddenly felt suffocating.

I let go of her wrist and stepped to the corner, leaning against the wall, trying to breathe, but every inhale felt like I was choking on smoke.

Silence hung heavy between us. My mind wouldn’t shut up. My heart was still sprinting like it was trying to run from everything I just said. Everything I just did.

What the hell was that?

I kept replaying it all, over and over, the way I snapped at him, barked at Sarah, spat out words like they were knives meant to protect me. Only they hadn’t. They’d only cut deeper.

I didn’t notice Sarah was saying something until her voice pierced through the buzzing static in my brain.

"Aria?"

I blinked.

"Aria, hey—I’ve been calling your name."

I turned to her slowly, realizing how far away I must’ve looked. "Sorry. I just... zoned out."

"No kidding," she muttered, rubbing her wrist where I’d gripped her too tight. "What the hell was that about?"

"I’m sorry Sarah." I sighed, finally looking her in the eye. "I’m really sorry. For putting you in that position. For dragging you into... whatever that was."

Sarah studied me for a beat, arms crossed, concern furrowing her brows. "What is going on with you? I’ve never seen you like that before."

I let my head fall back against the wall of the elevator with a dull thud. "Neither have I."

The admission slipped out, quiet and honest in a way I hadn’t expected.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," I went on, softer this time. "It’s like I’ve been possessed by a bratty, irrational teenage version of myself who keeps picking fights and misbehaving like it’s a sport. And I can’t stop her. She’s just... running the show now."

Sarah stayed quiet, which made the silence louder. I hated it.

"I mean, who even was that person back there?" I whispered, more to myself than her. "I acted like he insulted my entire bloodline when all he did was ask me to have lunch."

Sarah gave me a look that said Well, he also grabbed your wrist and refused to let go but sure, let’s blame you, and I almost laughed. Almost.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the shame settle in thick. "God. I wish I could go back up there and—"

I didn’t finish the sentence. I couldn’t. But the words sat heavy on my tongue like stones.

Beg for mercy.

Apologize. Touch his face. Tell him I didn’t mean any of it. That I’m just scared. And lost. And so goddamn confused by the way he looks at me like he sees past all of it.

But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

Because my pride was a noose tied too tight around my throat, and admitting I was wrong would only twist it tighter.

I was absolutely, utterly fucked.