Chapter Three
1327 Words
{ ARIA }
I still remember the day I walked into Mr. Bennett’s office, my hands trembling because I thought he was about to fire me after the case I lost. Instead, when the door swung open, there he was—Lucas Marchand. Not HIM. Not the man whose touch still crawled along my skin at night. Just a client. A powerful, intimidating client.
Lucas didn’t even glance at me at first. “Mr. Bennett,” he said sharply, “I don’t pay your firm to drag its feet.”
Mr. Bennett cleared his throat. “Lucas, please. We’re doing our best.”
I stood frozen at the doorway until Mr. Bennett finally noticed me. “Aria, come in.”
Lucas’s eyes flicked to me, slow, measuring. “This is her?”
“Yes,” Mr. Bennett said. “Aria Hayes. My best junior attorney.”
Lucas crossed his arms. “She doesn’t look like someone who can take down the Meyer empire.”
My stomach twisted. “Excuse me?”
He turned fully to me. “The Meyers stole the profit proposal my company negotiated for months. I want them threatened. Hard. You will prepare the documents.”
I swallowed. “I will. I’m capable.”
“You’d better be,” Lucas muttered. “Because the Meyers aren’t the type you warn politely. They’re the type you crush.”
Mr. Bennett shot him a look. “Lucas—”
“No. I don’t need gentle,” Lucas cut in. “I need results. And if she can’t handle pressure—”
“I can handle anything,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
His gaze sharpened with interest. “Good. Then you start today.”
A flash of HIM drifted into my mind—the stranger whose voice had been deep and rough against my neck. The way he’d whispered Little Dawn like he owned the words. I blinked hard, forcing the memory down.
Lucas continued, “I expect to see the first draft of the threat by tomorrow afternoon.”
Tomorrow. I had nodded, even though my chest felt tight.
And that was the day everything started.
Now, two months later, I sat at my desk, drowning in files and frustration, staring at the screen like it owed me answers. Nothing. Nothing about the Meyers. No hidden scandals. No tax evasion. No embezzlement. Nothing.
I groaned and let my forehead drop straight onto the desk.
“Aria,” Maya said immediately from her desk beside mine, “you’re scaring me.”
“I’ve checked everything,” I mumbled against the wooden surface. “Everything. There is no dirt on the Meyers.”
“Impossible,” she said. “Everyone has dirt.”
“Well, not them,” I grumbled. “Or they cover it too well.”
Maya swiveled her chair toward me. “Sit up. You look like a dying cat.”
“I feel like a dying cat.”
“Good. Then answer my question: when last did you sleep?”
“I don’t remember.”
“When last did you eat?”
“Yesterday, I think.”
“When last did you take a proper bath?”
“Stop interrogating me.”
She leaned closer. “Aria, you look sick. And you’ve been running to the bathroom every ten minutes. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m just tired,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “It’s the case.”
“It’s not just the case,” Maya said. “You’ve been nauseous all week, snapping at everyone, and you look pale. Did you catch something?”
“Probably. Or stress.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Aria… did you use protection that night?”
My spine locked. “Maya.”
“Aria.”
“Maya!”
She folded her arms. “Answer the question.”
I looked away. “No.”
“No?” she repeated, voice rising. “As in—none? Zero? You just—just jumped straight into it raw?”
“Maya!” I hissed, cheeks burning. “Keep your voice down!”
She leaned in, eyes wide. “Aria, oh my God.”
“It was one night,” I whispered fiercely. “One mistake. I don’t even know his name.”
Maya pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically. “This is how every romance novel starts.”
“This is not a romance novel,” I muttered.
“Well, it might be a pregnancy novel,” she shot back.
I froze. The breath in my lungs stalled.
Maya saw the panic flash over my face. “Okay. That’s it.” She stood up, grabbed her bag. “I’m going out.”
“For what?!”
“Pregnancy tests. All the brands.”
“Maya—”
“Nope. Sit tight. Don’t faint. Drink water. And maybe try breathing.”
She hurried out before I could stop her. I slumped back in my chair, head spinning. Pregnant? No. I couldn’t be. My stomach twisted again, and I pressed a hand to it.
HIM.
The way he’d held my hips.
The desperation in his voice.
The heat.
The recklessness.
The way we moved like we were burning.
I closed my eyes. If I were pregnant, it would be his.
My heart thudded painfully.
When Maya returned, she dropped a full pharmacy bag on my desk. “Here. Go home.”
“I can’t. I have—”
“Go. Home. The lawsuit is tomorrow morning. Mr. Bennett will give you the rest of the day off.”
I exhaled shakily and stood, grabbing my coat. “Fine. I need to talk to him anyway.”
“Good. And Aria?” She touched my hand. “Whatever happens… I’m here. Always.”
I gave her a small nod and walked to Mr. Bennett’s office. I knocked lightly.
“Come in,” he called.
He looked up as I entered. “Aria. You look exhausted.”
“I just need a few hours, sir.”
He studied me. “You’ve been working nonstop. Go home. Rest. Tomorrow is big.”
“I know.”
“And you’ll do fine,” he added gently. “You’re talented, Aria. Don’t break yourself.”
I hesitated. “Thank you. I just… need the evening off.”
“Granted. Now go.”
I left with my heart pounding. My body ached everywhere. My stomach churned again.
Driving home felt like a blur of headlights and worst-case scenarios.
What if I was pregnant?
What if I wasn’t?
What if he never knew?
What if I never even found him?
HIM.
His shadow lived in every red light, every inhale, every trembling pulse under my skin.
When I reached my apartment, I shut the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. The bag of tests felt heavier than bricks.
“I can do this,” I whispered.
But my hands shook as I opened the first box.
Pregnancy tests were simple—pee, wait, read. That was it. One line meant no. Two lines meant yes.
I took the first one into the bathroom, did what I had to do, and set it on the sink. Every second crawled. Every breath felt like a lifetime.
My stomach twisted painfully as I waited.
When the line appeared, it was One Line.
One line.
Negative.
Relief rushed through me so fast I laughed—actually laughed—and looked in the mirror with a trembling smile.
But then I saw the other boxes.
Just to be sure, I told myself. Just to be absolutely sure.
I opened another.
I took my time this round, my hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped it.
I placed it beside the sink and stepped back. The seconds dragged. My chest tightened with every tick of the clock. My legs felt weak. My fingers were cold.
Then the line appeared.
Two Lines
The Two lines glaring at me.
- Writer
