Chapter 6 : Things You Shouldn’t Feel
1283 Words
THE NEXT DAY HAS COME
Aria leaned against the marble countertop in the women’s restroom, gripping its cold edge with trembling hands. Her reflection stared back at her—pale, drawn, with a sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead. She had thrown up twice already. The nausea had crept up slowly this morning, but now it clung to her like fog.
She splashed cold water on her face and took deep, controlled breaths.
You can’t fall apart now.
This wasn’t just about her. It was about her father. About justice. About revenge.
Aria pressed a hand against her flat stomach. Just the thought of what was growing inside her made her head spin again. She hadn’t figured out what to do about the pregnancy yet. But she would. Later. Right now, she had to keep her cover intact. She was Clarke Mickelson. The sharp intern with an edge. Not the girl who had made the worst mistake of her life in a hotel suite two weeks ago.
A knock on the bathroom door made her stiffen.
“Clarke?” came a familiar voice. Deep. Masculine. Smooth as sin.
Shit.
Dominic Thorne.
She gritted her teeth and straightened her spine. “Occupied.”
“You’ve been in there a while.” His voice was closer now. “Didn’t peg you for someone who gets nervous around boardrooms.”
Nervous? No. Morning sickness? Absolutely.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, wiping her mouth and smoothing her blazer. Her eyes were a little bloodshot, but nothing mascara couldn’t hide. “Some of us just need to pee in peace.”
She opened the door and stepped out—only to find him leaning casually against the opposite wall, arms crossed, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the veins in his forearms. His eyes swept over her, cool and calculating.
“Are you?” he asked.
She blinked. “Am I what?”
“Fine.”
“I’m perfectly capable of doing my job,” she said, stepping past him.
“I never said you weren’t.” He followed her. “But you don’t look like someone who’s slept much. And the color’s gone from your face.”
“Maybe because my boss is an arrogant prick who won’t mind his own business,” she bit out.
Dominic smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “Look. Whatever this is—this weird obsession you have with trying to get under my skin—it needs to stop.”
His expression shifted slightly. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“Well, don’t. I’m not some puzzle for you to solve.”
He stepped closer. “Maybe not. But you don’t act like the other interns. You’re too sharp. Too confident. It’s like you already know how this place runs.”
Her pulse spiked. Had she been too bold? Too efficient?
“Is that a problem?” she asked, defiant.
“No,” he murmured. “It’s…interesting.”
He was too close. The air between them charged, heavy. She hated how her body reacted to him—how it remembered every touch, every kiss from that night at the gala. She had told herself it was just s*x. Just a mistake. But here he was, flesh and blood, and far too dangerous.
“I’m not here to entertain your curiosity,” she said, stepping back. “And if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
⸻
By mid-afternoon, the nausea had settled into a dull ache in her stomach, but Aria powered through.
She was sorting digital archives on Victor Thorne’s former acquisitions when a folder caught her eye. Unlabeled, tucked in between two irrelevant reports. Hidden in plain sight.
She clicked it open.
Inside were a series of scanned documents—legal paperwork, emails, court transcripts. Her heart stilled as she read through them.
It was all there. Her father’s trial. The name Victor Thorne showing up repeatedly. Undisclosed financial connections between the judge and one of Victor’s shell companies. And a familiar name signed at the bottom of a damning affidavit—a fabricated testimony that sealed her father’s fate.
Her throat tightened. She copied the files quickly onto her flash drive and closed the window, heart pounding.
This was it. Proof.
Just a piece—but enough to start unraveling the web.
She glanced around the empty office. No one had noticed. She stood and headed for the breakroom, needing air.
But Dominic intercepted her at the door.
“Leaving already?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “You looked like you saw a ghost.”
Aria cursed her luck.
“I’m getting coffee,” she said.
“You don’t drink coffee,” he replied.
She froze. “How would you know that?”
He smiled. “I notice things.”
Her jaw tightened. “Well, start noticing that I don’t want you in my space.”
“I could say the same, Clarke,” he said softly. “But here you are. All over my mind.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.
She shoved past him. “Maybe you should get a new hobby.”
He followed her down the hall, not giving her an inch.
“I can’t help but wonder…” he said casually. “You didn’t tell me your name at the gala. And yet here you are—working for my company. Pretty damn convenient.”
She stopped walking.
He stepped closer, voice dropping. “Did you know who I was that night?”
Aria’s stomach twisted. “If I did, do you think I would’ve slept with you?”
He laughed under his breath. “Who knows? Some women like a little danger.”
Aria leaned in, her voice cold. “I’m not some woman. And trust me, Dominic—if I had known who you were, I wouldn’t have touched you.”
That was a lie. And they both knew it.
His gaze darkened. “That’s not what your body said.”
She slapped him.
The crack echoed down the corridor. A passing assistant stopped and gawked.
Dominic’s cheek reddened, but he didn’t look angry. He looked amused. Worse—turned on.
“Careful,” he murmured. “That kind of passion’s addictive.”
Aria stormed off, heart racing, face burning.
She locked herself in the breakroom and tried to breathe. Her palm stung from the impact.
She hated him.
She hated how much he affected her.
She hated that her pregnancy hormones were making everything worse.
And then, just as she thought she could collect herself, a wave of dizziness swept over her. She reached for the wall—missed—and collapsed to her knees.
The door swung open.
“Clarke?” a voice barked.
Dominic.
Of course.
He rushed to her side, kneeling. “s**t, you’re burning up. What’s going on?”
“I’m fine,” she muttered, trying to stand. “It’s nothing—just—”
“You fainted!”
“Don’t make a scene—”
“Too late.”
His arms wrapped around her, lifting her effortlessly. “You’re going to the medical wing.”
“No,” she protested. “Put me down—”
But he didn’t listen. He carried her through the hallways, past curious eyes and whispers, straight toward the executive elevator.
And as the doors closed, trapping them alone, Aria’s stomach turned again.
Not from the pregnancy.
From fear.
Because this was spiraling out of control.
Too fast.
Too close.
And she wasn’t sure how long she could keep her secrets buried.
- Writer
