Sweet Hatred Chapter 170: Birthday

Birthday. His birthday. The day he was born. Which, apparently, had recently happened. Which everyone here seed to know about.

Except .

I watched as Kael walked the n toward the path back to the helipad, backlit by the dying glow of the fire. He chuckled at sothing one of them said, nodding along like he hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb into my brain without flinching.

My stomach twisted.

I hadn’t known. I didn’t know.

Not even a ntion. Not a hint. And now I couldn’t stop thinking,

What else didn’t I know?

I knew about the scars on his body. The shape of his rage. The sharp things buried under his skin. I knew the shadow of Ivan and the weight of his father’s expectations. But... birthdays? Favorite als? What made him laugh as a child? Did I even know his middle na?

My hands curled into the fabric of my blouse. Sothing low and painful settled behind my ribs. The giddy, fluttery feeling from earlier shriveled into silence, swallowed by the ugly question clawing at the back of my throat:

Was I just another one of his possessions? A piece in his ga? Sothing he brings along for show? Or rather I knew the answer, the problem was that would I remain the sa?

I stuffed the thought down like I always did. I’d gotten good at that.

I turned my face back toward the fire, pretending the sting behind my eyes was from the smoke, not my pride.

And then,

Kael’s voice pierced through my thoughts like a pin popping a bubble.

I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at him without seeing.

"Hm?" I breathed, trying to shake it off.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "You okay?"

I nodded. Too fast.

Kael didn’t push, not yet. Instead, he touched the small of my back and murmured, "Co on. Let’s go sowhere quieter."

He led through a hallway of stone and soft lighting, deeper into the villa. We ended up in what looked like a private lounge at the back of the villa itself, glass walls, firelight flickering off wood paneling, and a soft hum of old jazz vibrating through the room. There was even a steaming jacuzzi tucked into a nook by the window.

He loosened the wool coat and looked at . "Want to soak a little? Warm up?"

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My thoughts were still looping.

I should’ve known.

But he should’ve told .

But why didn’t I ask?

But why did he keep it quiet?

I sank onto the edge of the couch at the center of the sitting area, and pulled a throw blanket laying around even though I wasn’t cold. My chest felt hollow and tense at once, like I was both floating and sinking.

Kael watched , silently, before finally crouching in front of , one gloved hand brushing over my knee.

"Aria."

I didn’t et his gaze.

"Talk to ."

I clenched the blanket tighter. "It’s nothing really."

"Aria." His voice was firr now. "What’s going on in that head of yours?"

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to say it. It felt stupid. Petty. But the words clawed their way out anyway.

"Why didn’t you say anything about your birthday?"

He stilled.

I shook my head. "I an—I know I didn’t ask, but... you could’ve said sothing. Anything."

Silence stretched for a beat.

"Did it already pass? Is it today? Yesterday? Last week?" I laughed, but it cracked in the middle. "Because clearly everyone but knew."

His jaw ticked, but when he looked at , his voice was soft. "It’s today."

I froze.

"And I didn’t say anything because... I don’t celebrate it," he said simply, like that was enough. "Not since he Ivan at least. It reminds of things I’d rather not think about."

I looked away, guilt and sothing sharp blooming in my throat.

"But you let your friends get you a present?" I mumbled, not out of accusation, just confusion.

"First," He gave a faint smile. "They’re not my friends Aria, they’re business partners."

I stared at the fire, letting that sit.

"Second." He continued. "They’re only doing it to stay on my good side."

And even though he explained it, even though he wasn’t wrong, the ache didn’t go away. I didn’t even know why I cared this much, except I did. Because he mattered to . Because I wanted to be the person who knew things. Who got to show up for him. Who ant sothing.

Kael reached up, brushing his fingers along my jaw.

"You’re not mad because I didn’t tell you," he murmured. "You’re mad because you wanted to know."

I didn’t deny it. I couldn’t.

"Aria," he whispered, leaning in, "you do know . More than anyone. But sotis... I forget how to let you."

I sighed softly, brushing invisible lint off my skirt like it mattered. "It’s not a big deal. I an... we’re not like a thing or anything."

I didn’t an for it to sound as sharp as it did. Like a knife dipped in sugar. I glanced, hoping for a reaction. Kael didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed on mine. Steady. Searching.

"Aria," he said quietly, "forgive ."

I blinked. "It’s fine—"

"It’s not," he cut in. "Tell what I can do. What’ll make it right?"

I bit my bottom lip, feeling that traitorous ache crawl back into my chest. "I should be asking you that. What do you want for your birthday?" I tried to smile. "Please make it sothing I can afford. No jet planes or billion-dollar islands."

His lips curved, slow and knowing. "I already got what I wanted today."

I paused. "What?"

But Kael was already moving.

He slipped off his gloves and let them fall to the floor with a quiet thud. Then he reached for , bare hands sliding over my thighs, warm, steady, possessive. He spread them just slightly, just enough for air to leave my lungs in a shaky breath.

My core pulsed, hot and shaless.

Jesus Christ.

Was it okay to be this way two months after mourning my mother?

Was it okay to want to be touched like this—held like this—when grief was still a half-packed suitcase in the corner of my heart?

I tried to swallow it down. "Kael," I murmured, voice embarrassingly breathy, "seriously. What do you really want?"

His gaze lifted to mine, and for once... there was no armor in it. Just softness. Just truth.

"I’m fine with anything you give ," he said gently. "I’m just happy you’re here with ."

Sothing cracked open in at that.

He wasn’t just talking about tonight.

He was talking about the days I shut down. The weeks I barely spoke. The month I disappeared into a fog and only ca up for air when I had no choice.

"You’re really okay now?" he asked, thumb tracing lazy circles against my inner thigh. "You don’t have to rush back. I can give you more ti."

I leaned forward, threading my fingers into his hair, fingernails lightly scratching the back of his head like he was so secret puppy I’d tad. He closed his eyes at the touch.

"The from six months ago," I whispered, "would’ve laughed if I told her that Kael Roman, the heartless bastard who fired her over a spreadsheet, would be worrying about her ntal health now."

He chuckled, low and boyish. "Well, I never said I wasn’t still a bastard. I just... selectively care."

I smiled, real this ti. "I’m fine. Really. Or maybe I’m starting to be. Because you’re here. Spoiling . Even though I spent the better part of early this year fantasizing about setting your office on fire."

Kael laughed again, breath warm against my wrist, then brought my palm to his mouth and kissed it softly. My heart flipped like a damn gymnast.

His lashes fluttered, ridiculous and pretty.

"And your lashes are obnoxiously long," I muttered. "Like, I’m this close to stealing them to make a lash set for myself."

Kael grinned. "You can do anything you want to ."

My breath stuttered. When he said things like that, it made wonder—

Then he stood, hands slipping from my thighs reluctantly. "You hungry?"

"Wait," I said, standing with him. "Can we... celebrate? Just a little? I know you don’t like it, but it doesn’t feel fair to do nothing. Not for soone who’s done so much for ."

He exhaled slowly, almost like it physically hit him. "Should I ask the chef to bake a cake? Whichever you want."

Before I could answer—crack.

The sky outside split open with thunder, loud and sharp enough to rattle the windows. A second later, rain began hamring the glass in heavy sheets, drowning out everything else.

Kael turned toward it calmly.

I just stared at him.

And in my chest, sothing swelled, wild and sweet and aching. Because I wanted to hope that maybe, maybe he was letting in. In his own slow, careful, fucked-up way... he was choosing .