Chapter 8 : The Younger Thorne
1378 Words
Dominic’s stare was a vice around her throat.
Not hard enough to choke, but tight enough to remind her she wasn’t free.
The office door suddenly flew open without so much as a knock.
“Bro!”
Aria flinched, breaking eye contact with Dominic just as a whirlwind of blond hair, expensive sneakers, and casual arrogance breezed in like he owned the place.
Nathaniel Thorne.
She didn’t need an introduction—everything about him screamed “too rich to care.”
He wore distressed designer jeans that probably cost more than her monthly rent, a white T-shirt under a loose cream jacket, and a gold chain that glinted with every exaggerated movement. His blue eyes were bright despite the faint shadows under them—hangover shadows.
And the smirk? Oh, it was genetic.
“Missed you at dinner last night,” Nate said, tossing a designer duffel onto the couch without looking. “Dad’s pissed. Says you’re avoiding family obligations again. I told him you were busy banging some—”
He stopped mid-sentence when his gaze landed on her.
“Ohhh…” The smirk sharpened. “Well, hello.”
Aria’s spine stiffened.
“Clarke,” Dominic said, voice suddenly harder, “meet my brother, Nathaniel.”
“Please—call me Nate.” He crossed the room in three easy strides, offering his hand. “And you are?”
She hesitated a fraction too long before taking it. His grip was warm, confident—too confident.
“Clarke Mickelson,” she said coolly.
His eyes swept over her with a lazy boldness that made Dominic’s jaw tighten. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. You work here?”
“Yes.”
“In what department?”
“Intern,” Dominic answered for her.
Nate grinned wider. “Executive internship? Or are you… executive entertainment?”
Aria’s lips parted in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
Dominic shot his brother a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Get out, Nate.”
“What? I’m just saying—”
“Now.”
For a second, Nate looked like he might argue. Then his smirk returned, slow and knowing, as his gaze bounced between the two of them.
“Ohhh,” he drawled. “I get it. That’s why you skipped dinner. You were busy here, huh? That’s… interesting.”
Aria’s cheeks burned, though not from embarrassment. Fury surged hot in her veins.
“I have work to do,” she said sharply, brushing past Nate toward the door.
“Hey, don’t be mad,” Nate called after her. “I’m just trying to get to know my future sister-in-law.”
She froze mid-step.
Dominic’s voice was ice. “Nathaniel.”
“What?” Nate’s grin was pure provocation. “If you’re already knocking her up, might as well put a ring on it—”
That was the last straw.
Aria turned back, her heels clicking like gunshots on the polished floor. “Listen carefully, Nate. I am not your brother’s—anything. And if you ever make another comment like that to me again, you’ll regret it.”
Nate blinked, then laughed like she’d just told him the most adorable joke.
Dominic, however, wasn’t laughing. “Out. Now.”
“Fine.” Nate raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you’re no fun anymore, Dom. You used to—”
“Leave.”
With a shrug, Nate grabbed his duffel and sauntered out, whistling under his breath.
The moment the door clicked shut, Dominic’s gaze was back on her.
“You didn’t deny it,” he said softly.
She tensed. “Deny what?”
“That you’re pregnant.”
Her heartbeat roared in her ears. “I’m not having this conversation.”
“You’re going to have to. Eventually.”
She started for the door again, but he stepped in her way.
“Move.”
“No.” His voice was low, dangerous. “I’m not letting you walk out until you tell me the truth.”
Her stomach twisted—part fear, part morning sickness, part sheer rage at being cornered.
“I told you already,” she said, forcing her tone to stay steady. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know enough to care.”
“That’s your problem, not mine.”
He flinched, almost imperceptibly. Then he exhaled, his jaw tight. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But if you collapse again, I’m taking you straight to a doctor whether you like it or not.”
“I won’t collapse.”
“You will if you keep ignoring whatever’s going on.”
She pushed past him before he could say more, slamming the door harder than necessary.
⸻
Later That Morning
The whispers were worse.
She caught them in the break room, the elevator, even in the hallway—Dominic’s name, her name, the faintest fragments of words like carried her, pale, pregnant?
She ignored them all, burying herself in spreadsheets she barely read.
By noon, her head throbbed. She stood to grab water, but the fluorescent lights above seemed to shift and tilt.
Not now.
She gripped the desk until her knuckles whitened, forcing herself to breathe.
A voice broke through the fog.
“You okay?”
She looked up—Nate again, leaning against the cubicle wall like he’d been waiting.
“What do you want?” she muttered.
“To apologize,” he said, though his smirk didn’t exactly scream sincerity. “I was out of line earlier.”
“Wow. That almost sounded genuine.”
He chuckled. “I’m serious. I… tend to push buttons. It’s a flaw.”
“A flaw you enjoy,” she said flatly.
He tilted his head. “Maybe. But I also notice things, Clarke. Like how you look ready to pass out right now.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” His tone softened, and for a moment the cocky edge faded. “If my brother’s giving you a hard time—”
“Your brother’s not the problem.”
That smirk returned instantly. “Good. Means I still have a chance.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away, but his voice followed her.
“You should drink something. You’re pale as hell.”
She didn’t answer, but her hand was trembling slightly when she filled her water glass.
⸻
Late Afternoon
By four o’clock, she was counting the minutes until she could leave.
Dominic hadn’t approached her again, but she could feel him—always there, somewhere, watching.
She was halfway to the lobby when Nate’s voice rang out.
“Clarke!”
She stopped, reluctantly turning as he jogged up beside her.
“Don’t look so thrilled,” he teased. “I’m just here to offer you a ride.”
“I don’t need a ride.”
“It’s raining.”
She glanced out the glass doors—and cursed under her breath. The city was a blur of silver sheets.
“Fine,” she said.
“See? I’m not always the bad guy.”
The elevator ride down was silent, but the moment they stepped into the underground garage, the sound of engines and echoing water filled the space.
Nate’s sleek black sports car waited near the exit. He opened the passenger door with a flourish.
She hesitated—just long enough to catch movement in the corner of her eye.
Dominic.
Standing by his own car. Watching them.
His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was clear.
Nate noticed too. “Ah. Someone’s jealous.”
Aria ignored him and slid into the seat.
The door shut. Nate walked around to the driver’s side, but before he could get in, Dominic was there, his hand slamming on the roof.
“She’s not going with you,” Dominic said, voice low and dangerous.
Nate raised a brow. “Since when do you decide where she goes?”
“Since she started working here.”
“She’s not property, Dom.”
Dominic’s eyes flicked to hers, locking. “You’re not getting in this car.”
Aria’s heart pounded, her hands tightening on her bag.
She could feel it—the storm was about to break.
And when it did…
Someone was going to get hurt.
- Writer
