Sweet Hatred Chapter 209 - 2nd meeting

Her brows hung, those sharp blue eyes piercing through . And then she smiled.

"Then would you have liked to be more rough?" she leaned closer. "A slap maybe? Or sabotaging your whole life?" The smile remained but I could taste the dark intent in her words.

"I think sabotaging would be more intentional and hot to be honest."

"You think I’m hot?"

She really asked that.

"Why do you care what I think?"

"I care a lot more than what you’d expect."

"Typical." I replied.

She chuckled. Head tilted as she stared. Of course she did.

"What are your plans after tonight?" She asked. Surprised again, I matched her pose.

"Why? Are you planning a date or what?"

"Would you like one?"

Gosh. I couldn’t figure her out at all.

But before I could give a response...

The rest of the committee filtered in, high heels clicking, suits swishing, voices low and formal. Everyone looked perfectly put together. I was the only one who felt like I was stitched together with paperclips and false confidence.

The door closed.

The eting began.

And all I could think was:

What the fuck am I doing here?

The eting kicked off like a slow burn. No preambles. No warm smiles.

Ashlyn took center stage, her voice the clearest sound in the room, slicing through the quiet like a scalpel.

I stayed silent.

Not because I didn’t have questions. I did.

But mostly because I was still trying to understand why I was sitting at this damn table in the first place.

"We begin with security," Ashlyn said, crossing her legs elegantly. Her heels glead like blades under the light.

"Mr. Vaughn?"

A man at the far end of the table lifted his gaze. Tall. Broad. Face like carved stone. No smile lines. No warmth. Just presence.

"Head of Security," he introduced, nodding once. "Ex-military. Private intel contractor. Been shadowing Kael Roman since Dubai."

Ash gave him a small nod. Almost approving.

He stood and opened a thin leather folder.

"We’ve finalizing the biotric protocol. Facial. Fingerprint. Retinal. Each guest will be scanned at three checkpoints."

He tapped the page.

"Guest-specific threat profiles are already being drafted. And we’ve already flagged six, three high-risk politicians, two foreign royalty, and one unknown operative."

People around the table murmured.

"Entry and exit paths are being staggered. Secret routes are mapped. Panic rooms prepped. Tactical evac plans updated hourly."

He paused.

"We’ll run a full-scale penetration simulation four days prior. Anyone who fails the breach test will be removed from staff. No exceptions."

Ash smiled faintly, like she enjoyed that part.

"Thank you, Vaughn," she said. "Lucille?"

A poised blonde across from stood next. Polished, inhumanly calm. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Lucille Dane. Guest Relations Executive. Discretion Liaison," she said, voice cool.

"We’ve secured encrypted invitation logistics. Every black-tier guest, those with redacted histories or criminal affiliations—will receive their mask via dead drop."

She opened a file.

"Mask symbolism has been curated and assigned. Welco protocol includes scent diffusion at the entryway, ambient string quartet in F minor, and symbolic drinks based on region and title."

Lucille’s eyes flicked to Ash. "Handlers for the high-risk guests are being selected. Cri syndicates, rogue CEOs, arms dealers... we’ll manage them with velvet gloves and teeth behind the smile."

Ash nodded once. "You’ll also handle ambiance. Candles. Perforrs. Symbolic decor. Keep the tone mythic. Seductive. nacing. Our guests need to feel they’ve stepped into another world—and know they can’t leave it the sa."

Lucille didn’t blink. "Already underway."

Ash turned. "Benjamin."

A short, wiry man with ink-stained fingers stood. "Venue Director."

He adjusted his glasses.

And just like that, everything continued with each person in the room affirming their roles to play in this grand ga.

One man scratched his temple. "We’ll install two temporary control centers inside the venue. Mobile. Gone by sunrise. So is the evidence. Food. Clothes. Masks. Blood."

My stomach twisted slightly. He wasn’t joking.

"And her?" soone asked, gesturing to my direction.

Ash turned her gaze to .

I straightened.

"This," she said with a hint of drama, " Aria Thorne will be my co-lead for the this project. Nothing moves without our sign-off."

Soone in the back murmured.

Ash smiled wider.

"She’ll also be working on confidential guest investigations. Backgrounds. Histories. Ties. So of these people aren’t just rich—they’re monsters with empires stitched together with blood and secrets."

Her eyes flicked to again "Which makes her the perfect person for the job."

Everyone’s eyes were already on . I gave the room a slow nod. Not too stiff. Not too soft.

Just... neutral.

I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

But I was already in it now.

The eting dragged to a close with no dramatic flair, just a cold nod from Ashlyn as she straightened in her seat and opened her sleek black phone.

She was about to speak, maybe give final instructions, when her screen lit up with a call. Her brows arched slightly.

"Excuse ," she murmured with that sickly sweet tone that always made my teeth grit.

She pressed the phone to her ear and leaned back, waving one hand dismissively at the rest of us. "You’re all dismissed. I’ll be in touch with final schedules."

Chairs scraped against the floor. Papers shuffled. The room buzzed with polite goodnights, nods, murmurs.

I gathered my things slowly, watching her. I don’t know why. Maybe because it was the first ti I saw her... less poised. Her voice was lower now, nearly a whisper, but still sharp.

"Are you kidding , Sylas?" she hissed, rolling her eyes and dragging a perfectly manicured hand through her hair. "You were supposed to be here. I covered for you—again."

Sylas.

The na struck a bell in my head instantly.

Ash’s twin.

They were rarely seen together in public, which was odd for twins. There were more press releases about their individual achievents than their bonds as siblings.

Ash leaned back in her chair, her lips twitching at sothing he said.

"I swear, you dump one more thing on and I’m shipping you to Antarctica. Don’t test , I have the power."

She chuckled, genuinely this ti, a little raw, and that caught off guard. I had written her off as a sly cunt in my mind, I’d almost forgot she was human too.

That flicker of... normalcy. Sibling tension. It reminded too much of Olivia.

I swallowed the lump that had no business rising in my throat.

Would we ever laugh again like that?

Or did I burn it all down with my bitterness and that ugly fight at the shelter?

I didn’t wait to find out. I pushed my chair back and walked out, my heels echoing off the marble floors like my regrets had grown legs and were following out of the suite.

The air outside bit colder than I expected, or maybe it was just my own skin refusing to feel warm again.

I reached into my purse for my phone, half a thought forming to text Sarah and tell her I’d crash at her place. Or maybe to try Olivia one more ti.

But just as I lifted my gaze, a sleek, matte-black Bentley rolled to a silent stop in front of .