I HATE HIM
1503 Words
The world fractured the moment Ariana's back slammed into the solid, unyielding heat of the man behind her. It was an impact of safety and pure terror, the cold, greasy presence of the mugger instantly replaced by the warmth and granite strength of Mateo.
She didn't fall. Mateo's arm was already around her, steadying her small body as if she weighed nothing. Her heart was a wild, frantic drumbeat against his coat; her relief so intense it felt like physical pain.
Mateo's movements were clinical, swift, and horrifyingly efficient. He twisted the mugger's wrist with a sickening crack. The cheap knife clattered onto the wet pavement.
"Leave," Mateo's voice was low, a dark rumble that Ariana felt through her back. "If I see you in this area again, I will ensure the police do not handle your injuries."
The mugger didn't need telling twice; he scrambled away.
Mateo finally loosened his grip, but his hand remained firmly planted on the small of her back. He turned her slowly, forcing her to face him, his eyes—dark, intense, and utterly unreadable—locking onto hers.
"Are you hurt, Miss Cole?" The question was a low command.
Ariana shook her head, unable to manage more than a shallow gasp. "No. Thank you." Her voice was a pathetic whisper.
"Good," Mateo stated, his gaze sweeping over her face. He tucked her firmly against his side, his large hand acting as a vice, and began walking out of the alley toward his car.
"Doctor, I said thank you," Ariana attempted, trying to sound dignified. "I can walk on my own."
Mateo merely tightened his grip. "You are reckless," he replied, cutting her off. "And absent-minded. Get in the car."
They reached his car, a massive, dark machine parked carelessly on the curb. Mateo opened the passenger door and waited, his towering presence forcing her inside. Ariana slid into the leather seat.
Before she could reach for the belt, Mateo leaned over her.
The movement was sudden, deliberate, and devastatingly intimate. His coat brushed her knees. His scent—sharp cologne and antiseptic—filled the small, enclosed space. His body was a wall, and his face was inches from hers.
He reached across her chest for the seatbelt latch. His arm rested heavily above her breasts, and for a suspended, breathless moment, Ariana could only stare up at him. His eyes were dangerously focused on the task, but his breath hitched—a tiny, almost imperceptible interruption.
He pulled the belt across her, his large fingers working the latch with slow, agonizing control. His proximity was overwhelming. The air thinned, and the urge to tilt her head back was a frantic, silent scream in her chest.
Mateo finished, the metallic click echoing loudly. He didn't immediately move. He lingered, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her parted lips, the tension between them a live, humming wire. Ariana felt a hot, humiliating blush creep across her skin.
He finally pulled back, slowly regaining his seat. The car felt suffocatingly small.
"Give me the address, Miss Cole," he commanded, his voice impatient. "I am already late. I do not have time for this unnecessary detour."
Ariana gave him the street name and building number. The rest of the drive was conducted in absolute, agonizing silence. The only sound was the low rumble of the engine, intensifying the awareness of his proximity.
Some few minutes later he pulled up to her staff apartment building. Before Ariana could reach for the door handle, Mateo had the car in park and was out of his side, moving with predatory speed around the hood.
He opened her door, his presence immediately blocking her exit.
Ariana started to step out, ready to make a quick, clean escape.
Mateo grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Wait."
He pulled her back, not gently, until her body was again pressed against the leather seat. Then, he leaned in, his face serious, but his eyes cold. He grabbed her shoulder roughly, turning her toward him.
"You stumbled backward into me," he stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "If you sustained an injury, it will affect your performance. And I do not tolerate excuses or disruptions in my department."
His fingers were strong and rough as he quickly checked her arms, her collarbone, and the shoulder that had hit him. It was a purely clinical, aggressive examination, yet the forced proximity—his fingers pressing against her sensitive skin, his breath hot against her ear—made the moment fiercely intimate.
"You will bruise," he announced, his tone critical, not concerned. "If this causes you to lack attendance at your training or fall behind when you start the job, I will hold you personally accountable. Is that understood?"
Ariana swallowed hard, the shame of being handled like a subordinate mixing with the intense flush of adrenaline. "Yes, Doctor," she managed.
He finally released her. "Now, go."
Ariana practically fell out of the car, keys already fumbling in her hand. She did not look back, sprinting to the lobby door and slamming the heavy wood shut behind her.
Safe inside her cold apartment, Ariana stripped off her coat and staggered toward the bathroom mirror. Her cheeks were scarlet, her pulse still hammering. She splashed cold water on her face, leaning against the sink, the image of his dark, demanding eyes imprinted behind her eyelids.
"I hate him," she whispered fiercely to the glass. "I hate him."
She hated his control. She hated his arrogance. But worst of all, she hated the way her body had instantly softened against him, the way his proximity had felt like the only safe place on earth.
Snatching her phone, she needed an anchor. She dialled the one person who could distract her from the terrible, magnetizing power of her new boss.
"Cami, I need to vent, you will not believe the day I've had," Ariana said, collapsing onto the bed.
"Hey! What's up? Did your orientation meeting go badly?" Camila asked, her voice cheerful.
"Badly? Cami, I was mugged tonight, right outside the building!" Ariana's voice shook, the full terror resurfacing. "And my new boss—that Doctor he saw the whole thing and rescued me."
"OH MY GOD! Are you okay? Did he get hurt? That's insane.
"I'm fine, but he was furious. He didn't ask if I was hurt; he just started screaming about my attendance! He said I would be held accountable for any bruising that disrupted his department. Then he forced me into his car and checked me over like I was a broken mannequin, getting so close to my face I swear I nearly suffocated! He was so rude!"
Camila burst into laughter on the other end. "Wow, he acts like my dad.Maybe all the doctors there act the same," Cami mused.
Ariana scoffed, punching her pillow. "Oh, I'm sure your dad will be much nicer than this doctor. He was so cold and demanding, Cami! He made me feel like I was the criminal."
"Girl, you have no idea how my dad is," Camila replied, her tone switching from amused to wry. "Forget that beast, Ari. You need to shake this off. We went shopping yesterday; we don't need to go again. Let's go clubbing tonight! I know a place near Tribunal. You might get a hot guy tonight who isn't trying to enforce hospital policy."
The suggestion was exactly what Ariana needed. "Yes! Clubbing. Perfect. I need tequila and loud music to erase that man's face from my mind."
"That's the spirit! Listen, I need to go, but I'll text you the address and pick you up in an hour. But hey, before I go," Cami’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, cutting through the noise. "You spent half the drive with his face practically in your lap, and you're this stressed out.
"Are you absolutely sure the hate you have for him isn't just lust that you're trying to deny"?"
Ariana felt the hot, humiliating blush return, burning her cheeks. The image of Mateo's dark eyes inches from hers, checking the seatbelt, flashed through her memory.
"Never!" Ariana said, the denial sharp and immediate. "He's old enough to be my father!"
She slammed the phone down, her heart racing again. Old enough to be my father.The rationalization felt weak, hollow, and utterly unconvincing against the potent, undeniable heat that lingered on her skin.
- Writer
