The CEO He Never Deserved

Chapter 5

EDNA

The night air felt too cold for what just happened.

I didn’t realize I was shaking, until the car door shut behind me, sealing me into a suffocating silence. Everything outside, the distant voices, the chaos, Colin's they all faded instantly. Like it was all cut off.

Inside, all I could hear was my breath. Uneven. Fragile.

And Malrick.

He didn’t start the engine immediately. He didn’t speak either. That somehow made it worse. The silence stretched, pressed against my chest, forcing me to sit with everything I didn’t want to feel.

My hands are clenched tightly in my lap, fingers digging into my palms like the pain would anchor me, like it would keep me from falling apart.

It didn’t. It all replayed anyway.

Colin’s grip. His breath too close. That look in his eyes....like I belonged to him.

My stomach twisted violently.

“I’m fine,” I said out loud suddenly. The words come out sharp. Too fast. Too defensive.

A lie.

It hung in the air, brittle and obvious.

Malrick turned his head slightly, his gaze landing on me. Not forceful. Not questioning. Just… there.

“You’re not,” he said quietly. Two words.

And something inside me cracked, everything I had kept bottled in. I exhaled, but it came out shaky, uneven, betraying me. My shoulders dropped slightly, like I’d been holding tension I couldn’t maintain anymore.

I turned my face toward the window, needing distance, even if it was just the reflection staring back at me in the glass.

“I handled it,” I insisted, softer now.

Still a lie.

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Malrick said. It sounded like he was countering the words in my head. Telling me it was okay to feel vulnerable.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? I never should have had to. Not tonight. Not ever. The thoughts in my head.

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as I forced everything down. I'd thought this feelings of being powerless was entirely over.

And yet tonight…

It was gone in seconds.

“I don’t need saving,” I muttered.

It came out weaker than I hoped it would sound.

Malrick finally started the engine, but the car didn’t move yet. His hands rested on the steering wheel, steady. Controlled. Like nothing about him was ever out of place.

“Too bad,” he said calmly. “I’m not asking.” I shot him a glance.

Our eyes locked.

There was no arrogance there. No pity either. Just certainty. The kind that doesn’t bend or break or ask for permission.

And for some reason, that unsettled me more than Colin ever did.

The car moved.

Streetlights passed in long streaks, flashing gold across the interior. I leaned back slightly, closing my eyes for a brief second. I needed to regain control. I needed to breathe. I need.... My fingers tremble again.

Damn it.

Before I could stop it, a quiet, broken sound slipped past my lips.

I froze instantly. Humiliation burned through me.

But Malrick didn’t react the way I expected. He didn’t turn to stare. Didn’t pretend not to notice either.

Instead, he reached across the console. Slowly.

His hand clasped around mine. Reassuring. In a way I couldn’t understand.

I stiffened immediately, instinct telling me to pull away, to rebuild the distance, the control, the barrier. But his grip didn’t tighten. It didn’t force it way.

It just offered.

Something in me gave way.

My fingers loosened. Then, almost against my will, they curled slightly against his palm. Like my body had already decided before my mind could argue.

Silence filled the car again. But this time… it was different.

I stared at our hands for a moment, my chest rising and falling unevenly.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I whispered. Another lie.

“I was already there,” he said. His eyes on the road.

I frowned slightly, my gaze lifting. “What?”

“I don’t like leaving things to chance,” he replied, eyes still on the road. “Especially when it comes to you.”

My breath caught up. That wasn’t casual. That wasn’t something you just someone declares that easily.

I turned my head slowly, studying him, the sharp line of his jaw, the calm control in his expression, the quiet intensity that always seems to sit just beneath the surface.

“Why?” I asked. The question slipped out.

He didn’t answer immediately.

The car slowed as we approached a red light. The glow spilling into the car, painting everything in muted crimson.

When he finally spoke. His voice sounded so calm. “Because you’re not as untouchable as you think.” He declared. He saw me as someone vulnerable.

I should be irritated. That should've provoked me. But it didn’t. Because somehow... I knew he was right.

The light turned green. The car moved again.