Sweet Hatred Chapter 13: Visitor

ARIA

I've always known I had a wild streak, but right now? Sitting in his chair, watching that smug fucking smirk stretch across his face—I wanted to claw it off.

Kael lood in the doorway, all tailored arrogance and coiled violence. His gaze scraped over —a physical touch—lingering on the thigh I'd deliberately bared, the heel hooked on the edge of his desk.

The arrogant bastard who thought he could na his price for my job. His presence tasted like coffee on my tongue—bitter yet I couldn't stop myself from chugging it down to the last drop. I wanted to drag him off his pedestal, make him choke on his own ego.

I leaned back, slow, deliberate. "I'll make you wish you were dead." I whispered to myself.

His eyes darkened like he heard , predatory amusent flashing in those green depths. He stepped closer, and a smile curled at my lips. Good. Whatever he thought was about to happen, I was going to rip it out of his hands.

His jaw flexed, as he stepped closer, cologne wrapping around —sandalwood and spite. "You're in my seat, Miss Thorne."

"And you're in my way." I dropped the pen I fiddled with and let my voice dip to honeyed venom. "But don't worry. I'll make room... once you're on your knees."

A beat. His pupils swallowed the green of his eyes, dark and bottomless.

"Bold words." He braced his hands on the armrests, caging in.

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "I thought you liked that."

"Let's see if you can back them up."

Heat radiated off him, our breaths tangling. I didn't flinch. Didn't blink. My gaze dragged over him, deliberately slow, cataloging every inch. Then I saw it—clear as day. Hard. Straining against his slacks. "Already am. Your pulse is racing, Mr. Roman."

His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist, a searing brand. "Yours isn't?"

My chuckle was low, taunting. "Bloody pervert.".

Kael said nothing. His silence was louder than any coback, crackling with sothing neither of us wanted to na.

He reclined in the chair opposite , legs spread in a vulgar display of power—too fucking sexy for a vermin like him. My thighs squeezed, pussy quivering for more than what I was willing to admit.

I stretched out a hand, palm up. A simple gesture. Give it back.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out my lighter—then twirled it between his fingers, not handing it over.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "I think I've grown quite fond of it."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "What is it with n like you? Always thinking you can dangle sothing just out of reach and I'll jump for it?"

He continued twirling the lighter between his fingers, utterly unfazed. "And what is it with won like you? Always pretending they don't want to jump?"

My eyes narrowed. "You're exhausting."

"And you're still here."

I exhaled sharply through my nose, snatching the lighter from his grasp. The tal was warm from his touch, but I ignored the way it felt against my palm. Sothing else was warming up inside anyways—thanks to him.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to thank you?" I asked dryly.

His lips twitched. "Depends. Are you capable of politeness?"

I flicked the lighter open, the fla sparking between us. "Depends. Are you capable of shutting the fuck up?"

A low chuckle rumbled from him, his gaze flicking to the fla, then back to . "We'll work on that."

I leaned forward, blowing the fla out with a single breath. "Doubt it."

The ga hung between us, but then, just like that, his deanor shifted—sharp, businesslike. The hunter retreating, the CEO stepping in.

"Now that you've had your fun," he drawled, resting his elbows on the desk, "shall we talk about why you're really here?"

The lighter snapped shut with a click that echoed like a bullet chambering. I leaned forward, elbows on his desk, the wood biting into my skin. "Your offer," I said, letting the word drip with mockery. "Let's discuss it."

He mirrored my pose, our faces inches apart. "By all ans Miss Thorne."

♡♡