Chapter 7 : Trapped Between His Arms and Her Lies
1515 Words
The elevator doors shut with a soft chime, sealing them inside.
Silence.
Too thick. Too charged.
Dominic didn’t put her down. His arms remained locked around her as if letting go would make her disappear.
“I said I’m fine,” Aria snapped, her voice tighter than she meant it to be.
“You don’t look fine,” Dominic replied, voice low, eyes burning into hers.
“I didn’t ask you to carry me like some damsel in distress.”
He arched a brow. “Maybe don’t collapse next time.”
Her cheeks flushed. “It was a dizzy spell. I’m not made of glass.”
“No, you’re made of secrets.”
That hit harder than it should have.
She stiffened. “Excuse me?”
Dominic didn’t flinch. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t look away.
“I’ve seen interns come and go. But none of them show up with a fake smile, flinch when my father walks into a room, or nearly pass out while pretending to be fine.”
Her breath caught.
He wasn’t just cocky. He was perceptive.
Dangerously so.
“Drop the act, Clarke,” he continued, setting her down—finally—but blocking the elevator doors with his tall frame. “What’s really going on with you?”
Aria leaned against the railing, schooling her features. She couldn’t afford to panic.
Not now.
Not when the walls were this close and Dominic’s gaze was this sharp.
She pasted on a cool smile. “Are you always this dramatic, or is it just when you get to play hero?”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re deflecting.”
“And you’re overstepping.”
He stepped closer, crowding her space again. “You fainted. That’s not nothing.”
“I didn’t faint,” she lied, brushing past him as the elevator dinged to a stop at the executive floor.
But before she could escape, his hand wrapped around her wrist.
“Clarke—”
She jerked away. “It’s Ms. Mickelson.”
Dominic’s jaw clenched.
“I don’t care what name you use. I just want to know why I can’t stop thinking about the woman I met at that gala… and why she looks like she’s running from something.”
Aria froze.
He remembered.
The heat of that night. The taste of champagne. The rough scrape of his stubble against her neck as he whispered filthy promises.
And the way she’d moaned his name—though she hadn’t known it then.
“You’re mistaken,” she said softly, keeping her back to him.
“I’m not.”
His voice was a whisper now.
A confession.
And when she turned, he was closer than ever.
His fingers brushed her cheek, just lightly, just enough to make her flinch.
“You wore a gold mask,” he murmured. “Backless black dress. You were watching someone the entire night.”
Her throat dried. “You were drunk.”
“Not enough to forget the way you tasted.”
She shoved him.
Not hard, but enough to startle them both.
Dominic stumbled back, blinking.
“I’m not that girl,” she snapped. “That was a mistake. A one-night stand.”
“And yet here you are,” he replied. “In my father’s company. Playing pretend.”
Her heart thundered.
This wasn’t good.
He was connecting dots.
Too many, too fast.
She needed to distract him. Now.
“You think you’re so clever?” she said, stalking toward him. “That I’m here because of you?”
He didn’t answer.
So she pushed further.
“Let me guess. You think I fell into your lap that night and then magically landed an internship here just to get close to you?”
“Did you?” His voice was low. Dangerous.
She stopped breathing.
“I don’t revolve around your ego,” she lied smoothly. “Believe it or not, the world doesn’t turn on Dominic Thorne’s cock.”
That made his lip twitch.
But his eyes… they didn’t soften.
They darkened.
“You sure about that?”
She swallowed hard.
Because God help her, she wasn’t.
Not with the way he looked at her now.
Not with the way her body still remembered his.
And not with the baby growing inside her, carrying his DNA.
He stepped forward again, the heat between them nearly unbearable.
“You’re hiding something,” he said, voice a murmur.
“And you’re exhausting,” she replied, brushing past him again.
This time he let her go.
But as she strode down the corridor, she knew this wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
⸻
Later That Night
Aria sat curled on the edge of her apartment couch, knees to her chest, the pregnancy test box still on the table.
She’d taken two more since the first.
Still positive.
Still terrifying.
A baby.
Dominic’s baby.
She’d come to Thorne Industries to destroy Victor Thorne.
Not fall into bed with his son.
Not end up pregnant.
Not start to feel… anything.
Her fingers tightened around the wine glass she hadn’t even touched.
She couldn’t drink. Not anymore.
And she couldn’t tell Dominic. He would complicate everything. Interfere. Maybe even tell his father.
No.
This was her war.
Her revenge.
She glanced at the folder beside her—an old one, worn from being opened and closed too many times. Inside were newspaper clippings, legal transcripts, photos.
Her father.
Raymond Lane.
Former CFO of Thorne Industries.
Until Victor Thorne accused him of embezzlement.
Framed him with forged bank transfers. Paid off judges. Destroyed evidence.
And when her father wouldn’t go quietly, Victor had destroyed her mother too—with threats and lawsuits and fines.
Her family lost everything.
Her father went to prison.
Her mother?
She died six months later. Cancer, Also heart attack. Brought on by stress, grief, and the shame of a scandal she didn’t deserve.
Aria had been Seventeen
Now she was twenty-three, with a new identity, a baby she hadn’t planned, and a plan that felt like it was crumbling before it even began.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You should eat something. And drink water.
– Dominic
Her stomach flipped.
She hadn’t given him her number.
Of course he’d find it.
He was a Thorne.
Rich. Entitled. Dangerous.
She deleted the message.
But the heat in her chest lingered.
⸻
The Next Morning
The office was buzzing.
Thorne Industries never slept, and neither did its gossip mill.
People were still talking about the dramatic scene going to the hallway. About the way Dominic had scooped her up like a man possessed. About how pale she’d looked.
Aria ignored it all.
She wore a sleek black dress today—conservative, fitted, and meant to show that she wasn’t weak.
Her heels clicked with purpose as she stepped into the executive lounge.
Only to freeze.
Dominic was already there.
And he wasn’t alone.
A tall blonde in a red sheath dress leaned against his desk, laughing.
Her hand on his arm.
Aria didn’t recognize her. But she didn’t need to.
She was the type.
The kind of woman who saw Dominic and thought: possession.
Aria moved to leave—
“Clarke,” Dominic called.
She froze, hand on the door.
“Come here.”
The blonde glanced over her shoulder, clearly unimpressed.
Aria turned slowly, walking toward them with her head held high.
Dominic’s eyes raked over her—slow, heated, assessing.
“You look better today,” he said. “Did the medical check help?”
“I didn’t go,” she replied coolly. “Some of us prefer to suffer in silence.”
The blonde laughed like that was hilarious.
Dominic didn’t.
He dismissed the woman with a nod. “Thanks for stopping by, Lily.”
Lily pouted. “Call me.”
“Maybe.”
The door shut behind her.
Silence fell again.
“You’re insufferable,” Aria muttered.
“And you’re still lying.”
“I don’t owe you honesty.”
“No,” he agreed. “But you owe me an explanation.”
She crossed her arms. “About what?”
“The baby you’re carrying.”
Her heart stopped.
“What did you say?”
Dominic leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
“I’m not an i***t, Clarke. You’re pale. You’re dizzy. You’ve stopped drinking coffee. And you flinched when I touched your stomach.”
Aria felt the blood drain from her face.
“I haven’t told anyone,” he added. “Yet.”
She couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t care who you are,” he said. “I don’t care what you’re hiding. But if that baby is mine—”
“It’s not,” she blurted.
His eyes darkened. “Liar.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know enough.”
Silence.
Heavy. Terrifying.
And then, softer:
“Tell me the truth,” Dominic said. “Please.”
Her throat worked. Her heart screamed.
But her lips stayed sealed.
Because if she told him…
Everything would change.
And revenge?
Would become impossible.
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