"Aec, we ca here for fun," soone from behind called out, a woman...her voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade wrapped in silk. "Don’t show your audacity and power here." Then she steps out in front of us ...
I turned sharply at that.
Aec... So, Mr. Attitude had a na. Figures it would sound like sothing expensive short, cold, and mysterious enough to belong on the front of a cologne bottle.
The woman who’d spoken was stunning, tall, all curves and confidence. Her black curls frad her bronze skin perfectly, and her green dress looked like sothing pulled straight out of a designer’s runway. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was polished. The kind of polished that money couldn’t teach, the kind that ca with being around power too long.
She held Aec’s wrist like she’d done it a hundred tis before. "Co on," she coaxed, her voice lower now. "You promised no scenes today."
Aec didn’t even blink. His eyes were still fixed on , and for a second, I swore I saw sothing flicker there, irritation, calculation, maybe even amusent. Whatever it was, it made my stomach twist in that annoying way that told this man was the type of trouble that always wins.
The crowd had already ford a circle, everyone whispering, phones up, recording like it was a live show. So guy behind muttered, "Is that him?" and suddenly I wanted to turn around and punch soone.
"Aec," the woman hissed again, a little sharper this ti. "You’re making it worse."
Still no reply from him. Just that damn stare. The kind that crawled into your spine and dared you to look away first. I refused to. If he thought he could intimidate with that blank, superior face, he was in for a surprise.
Then, finally, he shifted slow, deliberate, like a lion deciding whether to eat or walk away from its prey. The woman tugged him toward the cars parked just beyond the field, and the crowd parted like water.
And that’s when I saw it.
A sleek black Rolls-Royce Cullinan, glossy enough to reflect the chaos around it, waited with its door open. Beside it, a Ferrari 812 Superfast, deep crimson and loud even in stillness, idled quietly, engine humming like it was ready for war. Two black-suited n stood by, sunglasses hiding their eyes even though the sun was already fading.
Oh, he was that kind of man.
The kind that didn’t need to brag, the money did it for him. The kind who had people clearing paths just by standing there. The kind who made you feel small for breathing near his oxygen.
My jaw clenched.
He was already halfway to the Rolls when he suddenly stopped. The woman turned, confused, but he didn’t move. Instead, he looked back at .
My pulse skipped. Damn him...
He took one step back toward the crowd, his tall fra cutting through the noise like gravity itself had decided to follow him. "What’s your na?" His voice was low, dark, and steady maybe too calm for soone who’d almost caused a brawl.
The air around us thickened. I could feel every gaze turning toward .
"What?" I asked, folding my arms because hell if I’d show nerves now.
He just stared. "Your na."
It wasn’t curiosity. It was a command, the kind that made people obey without realizing. But I wasn’t people.
I shrugged. "Depends. You planning to apologize or hire an assassin?"
A few gasps rippled through the onlookers, but I didn’t care. He blinked slowly, once, and then the corner of his mouth twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to smirk or strangle . "Be careful," he said finally, his tone dropping an octave lower. "The world’s full of people who talk too much."
I tilted my head. "Good thing I don’t care about most of the world."
That got a pause, just a second of hesitation before he gave this faint, humorless huff, almost like a laugh but not quite. "You should," he said, "because it’ll care about you soon enough."
My stomach did this weird, annoying twist again, but I forced a scoff. "Is that a threat or your way of saying I impressed you?"
He didn’t answer. The woman returned, slipping her hand around his arm again like she was used to cleaning up his storms. "Aec, let’s go."
He didn’t argue. He just gave one last long look, cold and unreadable... before turning and following her to the Rolls-Royce.
The mont the car door closed, the sound felt final. The engine purred, low and dangerous, as the convoy pulled away with the kind of slow, silent dominance that said: We don’t rush for anyone.
The murmurs started imdiately.
"Oh my God, that was Aec Langley...
"Girl’s done for."
"She slapped him?"
"She’s insane."
"The hell" I cussed under my breathe, when did I slap him? I ignored them all. My hands were still shaking slightly, but it wasn’t fear it was anger.
I wanted to scream into a pillow
"Let’s go ho," I muttered to Maxie, turning away from the chaos.
"Ho?" she blinked, following after like a lost puppy. "Are you serious? We literally rented this entire space for the weekend!"
"I don’t care," I said, brushing past a couple still whispering about the girl who stood up to Aec. "I’ve had enough testosterone and entitlent for one day."
Maxie caught my wrist, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Sharon. Just one night. Forget that jerk, okay? We’ll swim, eat, maybe drink a little. He’s gone. He can’t ruin the fun if you don’t let him."
I sighed. She was right...sort of. I’d known Maxie since high school. Saying no to her was like saying no to gravity.
"Fine," I muttered. "But I’m eating the biggest piece of chicken first."
Her grin was instant. "Deal."
We walked back toward the rented house, a cozy modern cabin-style thing on the edge of the field. Music had started playing again, people laughing awkwardly to cover up the tension. A few gave side glances, others just pretended nothing happened. I ignored them all.
Inside, I sank into the couch, kicked off my shoes, and let out a deep breath. "Remind never to step on rich people’s toes again."
Maxie chuckled weakly. "Literally."
But I could still feel it, that gaze. Those damn gray eyes. They’d burned into like frostbite.
"Who even is he?" I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Maxie bit her lip. "You really don’t know?"
"Maxie, I wouldn’t ask if I did."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "He’s Aec Langley. A rich billionaire CEO. The one who practically owns half the real estate in the city. His dad’s a forr senator or sothing. Rumor has it he’s... dangerous... I heard all that just now " Maxie chuckled
I rolled my eyes. "Oh great. I managed to piss off a billionaire with anger managent issues."
"Not just anger managent issues," she whispered. "He..."
Her words cut off when the door creaked open.
Marcus walked in.
He looked annoyingly proud of himself, adjusting his belt like soone who’d just had the ti of his life. The smirk on his face told I was about five seconds away from slapping another man today.
Behind him, a blonde girl erged, lipstick sared, hair a wild ss. She was laughing softly, running her fingers through her curls like she didn’t just step out of a private make-out session.
I didn’t need to be a genius to know what happened.
"Unbelievable," I muttered.
Marcus spotted us, straightened his shirt, and tried to act casual. "Yo, Sharon. Maxie. Why does it feel like soone died in here?"
The blonde brushed past , smirking, pretending to fix her hair. I could practically sll the perfu of betrayal.
Sothing in snapped.
I stood up slowly, forcing a smile so tight it could crack glass. "Maybe," I said sweetly, "if you’d stop fucking skirts for once and get a skill, you’d actually notice."
The room went dead silent.
Marcus froze mid-step. Maxie’s mouth dropped open.
And ? I just stood there, arms folded, staring him down, adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. Because today apparently was the day I forgot how to keep quiet.
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