When His Wife Return

Chapter 12

{Aurora's POV}

The office felt quieter after Mr. Parker left. It wasn't the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the suffocating kind. The kind that made every little sound stand out—the ticking of the expensive clock hanging on the wall, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the soft scratching of pages every time I moved another book from one pile to another.

I tried not to think about him.

I really did.

But it was difficult when I could still feel the warmth lingering on my shoulders from the coat I was wearing.

His coat.

I looked down at the black fabric wrapped around me. It smelled like him. Fresh cedarwood with a hint of expensive cologne. Something strangely clean...yet intimidating. It wasn't unpleasant.

That realization made me immediately look away from it, almost as if I'd been caught doing something embarrassing.

Why was I even noticing how he smelled?

I shook my head and forced myself to kneel in front of another stack of books.

Work. Just work. That's why I came here. Nothing else.

I slid another thick hardbound novel into its designated place before reaching for another one. My fingertips were beginning to ache from carrying books for hours.

I wasn't used to this. Not because it was physical work, but because it felt...

Lonely.

Growing up, I spent most of my time inside my room, but I was never given responsibilities like this. My mother didn't believe I was capable enough to handle important matters. Father never bothered.

Caelum...

My movements slowed.

He would've laughed if he saw me now.

"You're organizing books?" I could almost hear the amusement in his voice. "Didn't know the princess finally found a hobby."

A weak smile tugged at my lips before disappearing just as quickly. No. Don't think about him. Not here. Not now.

The wound never truly healed. I simply learned how to walk while carrying it.

My fingers tightened around the spine of another book until my knuckles turned white.

The silence inside the office became heavier. I inhaled deeply.

Calm. Composed. Classy.

Kael hadn't attended another meeting. He sat behind his desk with several documents spread before him. His pen rested between his fingers, yet the ink hadn't touched the paper for several minutes.

His eyes weren't reading. They were watching.

Watching me.

I could feel it like invisible fingers tracing every movement I made. Every time I bent down to pick another book. Every time I tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear. Every time exhaustion forced me to pause for a second before continuing again.

He watched.

Without saying a word. Without moving. Without hiding it. It was unnerving.

I couldn't take it anymore. I looked over my shoulder.

Our eyes met.

Green. Cold. Unreadable.

He didn't even pretend he wasn't staring.

"Is there something on my face?"

The words escaped before I could stop them. His expression remained unchanged.

"No."

"Then..." I hesitated. "Why do you keep looking at me?"

Silence.

He leaned back against his chair.

"I wasn't aware I needed permission."

I pressed my lips together. Of course. Why did I even ask?

I looked away first.

There was no winning against this man. Not verbally. Not mentally. Perhaps not in any way at all.

Minutes crawled by.

I continued organizing the books while pretending his eyes weren't burning holes into my back. The shelves were finally beginning to resemble a library again.

Still...I wasn't even halfway finished.

I sighed quietly.

Maybe I'd have to stay overtime. Would he even allow that? Or would he simply tell me to continue tomorrow? Knowing Kael...Probably neither. The thought almost made me laugh.

Almost.

"You're organizing them wrong."

My hands froze.

I slowly turned around.

Kael had somehow left his desk without me noticing. He stood only a few feet away. Too close. Again.

His sleeves remained rolled up to his forearms. The top two buttons of his shirt had been undone, exposing part of his collarbone. His tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked disheveled but somehow, it made him look even more attractive.

Stop. Don't go there.

"I followed your instructions." I said, feeling slightly confused.

"You followed them literally."

I frowned. "Isn't that the point?"

"No."

Without another word, he crouched beside one of the stacks. My eyes widened. Kael Russo, the billionaire every magazine couldn't stop talking about actually crouched on the carpet beside a mountain of books.

He picked one up.

"This author." He showed me the cover. "You placed him under fiction."

I blinked. "Isn't it fiction?"

"It's historical fiction."

"That's still fiction."

"It belongs with literature."

I stared at him. "There's a difference?"

"There is."

I raised a brow. "Who decided that?"

"I did."

My mouth opened, then closed again. Unbelievable. This man was making categories that didn't even exist.

"I think you're making my job harder on purpose."

"I am."

I looked at him.

He looked back.

Not even a single trace of shame or guilt could be seen in his eyes. Nothing. Just complete honesty.

"You're admitting it?"

"I've never lied to you."

The words hit harder than they should have because...I may not want to admit it out loud but he was right. He was ridiculous, obsessive, annoying, arrogant, but...

He had never actually lied.

Every outrageous thing he'd told me three years ago...he had proven every single one.

A strange discomfort settled inside my chest and I quickly looked away.

"You enjoy bullying people."

"I enjoy bullying you."

"Why?" I didn't know why I wasn't even offended.

He answered immediately.

"Because you're the only one who still argues with me."

I let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "That sounds unhealthy."

"It probably is."

Silence settled between us once again, but this time, it wasn't awkward, but not comfortable either. Just...

Quiet.

I resumed arranging another pile and to my surprise he didn't walk away. Instead, he picked up another book. Then another. And another. My movements gradually slowed as realization dawned on me.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't look up. "Helping."

I blinked.

Helping?

"The great Kael Russo," I couldn't stop the sarcasm from my tone. "Is helping his employee organize books?"

He placed another novel neatly on the shelf.

"I dislike inefficiency."

I raised a brow. What was he implying? "So this isn't kindness." It wasn't a question.

"No."

He finally looked at me. "It bothers me seeing you struggle."

My heartbeat skipped. There it was again–those unexpected words that he casually said as if they meant nothing. As if they didn't have the power to make my heart lose its rhythm. I lowered my head before he noticed the warmth creeping onto my cheeks.

No. Don't misunderstand him.

This is Kael Russo.

The same man whose secretary casually talked about women leaving his office every other day. The same man who called his obsession after only meeting me a handful of times. The same man who could probably charm anyone he wanted.

I wasn't special.

I couldn't be.

Right?

The thought should've comforted me. But it didn't . Instead, it left an unfamiliar ache somewhere deep inside my chest.

"You should've hired someone more qualified." I surprised myself by speaking, my voice was barely above a whisper.

He hummed. "I already have qualified employees."

"Then why me?" No answer. He simply continued placing another book into its place. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

His calm response irritated me more than it should have.

"No, I do."

He finally stopped. Slowly, he turned toward me. His green eyes met mine.

"You really want an answer?"

I nodded.

I almost faltered when he stood up, towering over me again. I hated how easily he could invade my space without even trying.

He took one step closer. Then another. Until instinct forced me to lean backward, but my eyes lingered on his, refusing to look away. It was intense and honest. It always does.

His warmth envelopes the coldness I was feeling, and yet, a shiver still ran down my spine.

"I hired you..." His voice was low. "...because if you weren't here," His gaze didn't leave mine. "I'd spend every day wondering where you are." My heartbeat stumbled. And with each sentences that left his mouth, the closer he gets. "Who you're with." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Whether you've eaten." He leaned closer that I could feel his breath on my lips. "Whether someone made you cry again."

My breathing hitched.

"How–" How did he...

"I don't like wondering." His eyes softened. "So I kept you somewhere I could see you."

I couldn't breathe.

His words weren't loud. They weren't sweet, but somehow, I could feel my heart softening. It felt dangerous and forbidden.

"You..." My throat felt dry. "You're talking like this is normal."

"It is to me."

"No." I shook my head. "No, it isn't." My voice cracked despite my efforts to stay composed. "This isn't concern."

"It isn't."

"This isn't care."

"It isn't."

"Then what is it?"

For the first time since I came here, he smiled. I didn't know why it made me feel so breathless.

"It's exactly what I warned you about three years ago." His nose touched my cheeks. His eyes half-lidded. "This..." He gestured between us. "...is obsession."

The word echoed inside my mind.

Obsession.

Not love. Not affection. Not admiration.

It should have frightened me. Maybe it did. But another emotion quietly slipped through the cracks.

Curiosity.

What kind of life...could make someone like Kael Russo become obsessed with someone like me? Someone so...

Ordinary.

"I don't understand you."

"You don't need to." He always said that.

"I do."

"No." His voice remained calm. "You only need to understand one thing."

"What?"

"I won't force you."

I blinked.

"What?" I must have heard him wrong.

His eyes held mine steadily.

"I've never wanted fear from you." His words caught me completely off guard. "I can order people around, make them do what I want," His gaze dropped briefly before returning to mine. "But if you ever choose to stay beside me," His voice became quieter, but there was no uncertainty behind it. "I want it to be because you wanted to."

The room suddenly felt smaller. Warmer. Dangerously so because for the first time...I believed him. Not because he sounded convincing. But because every outrageous thing he'd done until now...

He had never crossed the line.

He teased me. Cornered me. Provoked me. But he never actually forced me. Even three years ago when...when he let me close the door.

The realization unsettled me.

Because it blurred the image I'd been desperately trying to preserve. The image of Kael Russo as nothing more than a dangerous man I needed to avoid. It became harder to hate someone who looked at me as though I mattered. Someone who noticed tears I thought I'd hidden.

No.

Stop.

Don't think like that.

He's still the same man who had women walking in and out of his office. The same man who had openly admitted to being obsessed with me. None of this changes that.

I stepped backward, putting space between us.

"I..."I looked down. "I should finish the shelves."

He didn't stop me. He simply watched as I knelt back down. A few seconds later, he quietly returned to helping me.

Neither of us spoke again but somehow, the silence no longer felt suffocating. It felt...

Dangerous.

Not because of what had been said. But because of what hadn't.