BACK TO BLACK

CHAPTER 4

Darius Pov

The sharp bang of my office door opening and slamming shut again grated on my nerves, but I kept my eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Mother," I said sharply, not even glancing up.

"This is important," she huffed, her breath uneven as if she’d run up a flight of stairs.

I didn’t respond, hoping the silence would discourage her. It didn’t.

"We need to announce your engagement before Irvine’s wedding," she declared, her tone making it sound less like a suggestion and more like a decree.

I paused mid-typing, momentarily letting the words hang in the air before responding. "I wasn’t aware I was engaged," I said dryly, resuming my work without missing a beat.

"You will announce your engagement," she pressed, her voice rising, but I cut her off before she could dive into one of her infamous rants.

"To whom, exactly?" I asked, still not looking up.

"To Aubrey, of course," she said triumphantly as if the idea was the most obvious thing in the world.

My head snapped up, and there he was—Aubrey. I hadn’t even noticed him standing there, his hopeful eyes boring into me.

"So my engagement happened without my consent or knowledge?" I asked, voice calm but cutting.

"Mother’s worried now that Roxanne is back in town," Fallon announced as he strolled into the room, hands casually tucked into her pockets. She sat down on the opposite sofa, far away from Aubrey. One thing I knew about my sister was that if she did not hide when she did not like you.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why does everyone think my office is a free-for-all today?"

Mother’s accusatory gaze snapped back to me. "Why are you not surprised? Did you know she was back?" I knew she was back the moment her plane landed at the airport. I was not going to tell my hysterical mother that. Ever since our father died two years ago, she has become more overbearing.

I leaned back in my chair, exasperated. "Can we not hold a family intervention in my office?"

"You’re not changing the subject," she said, her tone unwavering, her gaze sharp and moving towards my desk.

"Why does it matter?" I asked, genuinely baffled.

"It’s a big deal. We have to get ahead of this situation," she said, her words clipped and urgent.

"What situation?" I asked, bewildered.

"You have to show everyone you’re doing well, especially since she’s the maid of honor," Mother added, as if that explained everything. According to my mother, the Blackthorne can not show any cracks or signs of weakness.

I had forgotten that tiny little detail until our dinner during the weekend. It had bothered me, but I could not blame Irvine for not pairing me with my ex-wife at his wedding. Being face to face with Rox after so many years was a breath of fresh air. She was as gorgeous as I had imagined.

"Who’s Irvine’s best man?" Fallon asked.

"Easton," I said automatically, the name souring in my mouth. Easton and I had bad blood for a while. Irvine had to be the go-between until he was tired of our bullshit. For his sake, we put our problems aside.

Mother perked up. "That’s good. If you announce the engagement and attend the wedding together, you—"

"I’m not marrying Aubrey," I interrupted firmly. I did not bother to look at her reaction. She is a grown adult; it's her fault for letting my mother into something she was not sure of.

"Why not?" she shot back, her voice edging toward hysteria.

"Because I don’t want to," I said simply.

"Your reputation," she hissed, her voice cutting like a shard of ice, "You can not attend that wedding without a date, or a fiancé."

Of course, it was. That’s all it had ever been for Raisa Blackthorne, a woman so calculated and unyielding that even the coldest winters would take lessons from her. People wondered why I kept my distance, why I lacked emotions, and why I was bad at communication skills. Try growing up with a mother who wielded manipulation like a scalpel and a father who made her seem warm by comparison.

Her gaze sharpened. "The two of you together would be grander than Irvine and Ivy’s wedding," she said, the gleam in her eyes betraying how much she relished the thought.

I stared at her; the suggestion boiling my blood. Irvine wasn’t just my best friend; he was one of the few steady anchors in my life. The fact she would so casually pit my fabricated engagement against his happiest day showed just how deeply her ambition ran.

"I don’t want to get married," I said, the words clipped and unyielding. My tone didn’t invite debate. Aubrey’s father was the governor of DC, and that made him prime bait for my mother’s insatiable hunger for connections.

Her composure cracked. "Will you just listen to me for once?" she barked, her voice ricocheting off the walls.

I froze, disbelief rendering me still. Slowly, I turned to her. "Did you just raise your voice? At me? In my office?"

The tension thickened, curling like smoke in the room, suffocating and inevitable. Growing up in the Morgan and Raisa household, you had to be perfect. Perfect grades, the perfect child who never talked back. I nailed each of their exacting requirements. But not for them to treat me like a twerp.

"Darius—" she started, her tone shifting into that polished smoothness she uses when trying to recover ground.

"I want you to leave." My voice was calm but deadly. "If I repeat myself, I’ll have you banned from my office."

"Would you do such a thing to your mother?" a flash of temper lighted her eyes.

"That's what I said," I said, looking at her red face and murderous gaze.

She wasn’t wounded, just strategizing her next move. Raisa Blackthorne didn’t feel—she calculated.

Fallon casually broke the silence with a weak chuckle. "Is it me, or did the temperature just plummet in here?"

Her attempt at humor landed with all the grace of a brick. Too late. The damage was done. Not that she cared. Fallon wasn’t the type to concern herself with how her words landed—she was one of the few people who lived unapologetically, without the weight of expectations pressing down on her.

My mother turned on her heel, but not before casting me a look so sharp it could have felled a weaker man. A silent promise that this wasn’t over. Aubrey trailed after her, moving with the kind of grace that had been rehearsed since birth.

The door clicked shut behind them.

I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers against my temples. "Why are you here, Fallon?"

She smirked, leaning against my desk like she had all the time in the world. "Capitol Mix is opening today," she said casually.

Knox’s new restaurant and bar. I already knew. "I know," I told her.

"Good," she said, her expression shifting ever so slightly. "Then you know to avail yourself. Don’t miss it—it’s important to Knox."

A warning, not a request.

She left as she came—without a warning, without a goodbye, just the lingering scent of expensive perfume and unresolved tension.

I turned back to my work, my fingers flying over the keyboard, trying to drown out the aftershock of my mother’s intrusion. But peace was fleeting. The door swung open again.

Aubrey.

She moved with purpose, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she stopped in front of my desk, arms crossed, chin lifted in that practiced air of entitlement. "That was very rude," she said.

I leaned back in my chair, meeting her gaze with indifference. "You entered my office without knocking or making an appointment. I agree with you—it's rude."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "No, I mean your mother. She’s worried. And so am I."

"Worried?" I let the word hang between us, tilting my head slightly. "You and I are not close enough to be concerned about each other."

She flinched. Just for a second. A brief, involuntary reaction before she schooled her expression back into something composed and controlled.

"I agree with your mother. The two of us getting married—"

I exhaled sharply, already tired of this conversation. "I’m going to stop you right there because it seems like you didn’t listen to me earlier."

Her eyes darkened, displeased with the interruption. Good.

"I don’t know what lies my mother has been feeding you, but you should know better than to believe them," I continued.

Her shoulders squared. "Are you calling me ignorant?"

"You’re not exactly proving otherwise."

Her nostrils flared, but she forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "I’m doing what’s best for you and the company."

"I never asked you to."

Her control slipped, her voice rising. "I am the best person for you! When you realize that, I hope it won’t be too late."

She turned sharply and stalked toward the door; but I was not letting her leave without the last word.

"Next time," I called out, my voice calm, measured, "book an appointment before coming to my office."

She didn’t respond, just yanked the door open and disappeared down the hall, her exit as dramatic as her entrance.

I knew Aubrey well enough to understand one thing—she didn’t take rejection lightly. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.