Sweet Hatred Chapter 16: guilty fucking teenager

KAEL

She walked out like she always did—hips carving a challenge into the air, heels cracking like gunshots. The room still reeked of her: defiance and violence. Aria.

Every muscle in my body locked. Don't follow. Don't fucking move. But my hands trembled. My pulse roared in my ears, feral, hungry. She'd left a goddamn handkerchief on the chair.

A scrap of fabric, crumpled like the aftermath of a fight. Or a bed. Another object to leave a mark, almost intentional—like a bait. Sothing I would blindly take.

I snatched it. Pressed it to my face. Fuck. Her scent flooded — sweet. Savage. Like sweat and iron and the split-second before a match strikes.

My cock hardened, brutal and aching, and I hissed through clenched teeth. Pathetic. But I didn't stop. I dragged the cloth over my lips, my tongue, tasting the ghost of her skin. I couldn't wait to have her.

She knew. Of course she knew. Those burning stares, the way she'd bite her lower lip raw just to watch my jaw twitch.

The way she sat on my chair in my office, her thigh squeezing tight as she leaned over the desk—"Your pulse is racing Mr. Roman."—voice like smoke, fucking daring to snap. To ruin us both.

The mory hit like a blade. I braced a hand against the desk, breath ragged. Control it. But my free hand slid down, palming myself through my slacks. A choked groan escaped. Just once. Just to take the edge off—

A knock.

I jerked back, shoving the handkerchief into my pocket like a guilty fucking teenager. Mia stood in the doorway, eyes narrowing. "Aria was here."

Of course she would ask.

I didn't blink. Didn't let my voice fray. "She was."

Mia stepped closer, all suspicion. "Why?"

Because she's the only thing that makes feel alive. Because I'd let her gut if it ant her hands on . "Business."

Before she could protest, Niko barged in, oblivious. "Sir. The investors are pissed."

I straightened my tie, my knuckles brushing the fabric still damp from my mouth. Her. Every cell in my body scread. But I smiled, smooth as a razor. "Give so minutes."

Niko left and my gaze dragged to Mia, still fuming silently. Her anger didn't matter to . It was weak. Fake. "We'll talk later." I dismissed her.

Her lips parted to form an argunt. "But I—"

"Later." I flashed a cold glare.

She trembled, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She wanted to argue but I didn't have the patience for her today and she knew imdiately. She left grudgingly. I didn't.

Alone, I pulled the handkerchief back out. Pressed it to my wrist, where the pulse hamred. Her. That little inferno getting too riled up.

I could've cum like this, desperate and silent, imagining her watching—lips curled in triumph, heel grinding into my chest. "Look at you," she'd sneer. "All that power, and you're mine."

I stopped. Fuck.

Later, I'd lie awake, teeth sunk into the cloth to muffle the sound of her na.

But today? Today, I'd play the king.

And pray she'd dethrone soon.

By the ti I stepped into the conference room, the n inside were already murmuring among themselves.

Niko gave a brief nod as I took my seat at the head of the table. "We were just going over the market projections," he murmured, sliding a file toward .

I barely spared it a glance. "Proceed."