Chapter 10 – Aiden’s Softening
1053 Words
That night, the airport had finally begun to empty. The late–shift staff walked slowly through the quiet halls, their footsteps echoing faintly between the high ceilings. The distant rumble of suitcase wheels on tile sounded like the last traces of a long day fading away.
But inside the VIP lounge on the third floor—surrounded by glass walls overlooking the glowing city of Los Verano—the air felt tight as a violin string.
Evie stood there with her hand clenched so tightly around her bag strap that her palm hurt. She hadn't expected to see Aiden again after the chaos earlier. And she definitely hadn't expected him to request a private meeting.
The silence in the room was so sharp she could hear her own heartbeat.
Aiden stood near the window, posture relaxed but distant, half-turned toward the city lights. The glow reflected along the edge of his face—sharp, defined, but somehow quieter than the version she'd seen on screens or in crowded press rooms.
Not cold.
Not hostile.
Something softer… but impossible to read.
Evie swallowed hard.
She didn't know if she should speak first or wait.
Aiden was the one who broke the silence.
"Tonight…" His voice was lower than usual, slower. "Thank you."
Evie immediately lifted her head, almost certain she'd misheard.
Aiden Cross—the man who once looked at her like she was nothing but trouble—had just thanked her?
She shook her head quickly. "I just… reacted. Anyone would've done the same."
"No." Aiden turned fully this time, meeting her eyes. "Not everyone would put themselves in front of a stranger like that. Especially when…"
He paused, choosing the words carefully.
"…when public opinion is on my side."
The meaning was clear:
She had every reason to let him deal with the danger alone.
Evie tightened her fingers, her voice soft. "I didn't think. I just saw danger and moved." She lowered her gaze. "But… I'm glad you're safe."
Aiden watched her for a long moment, his eyes gentler than she had ever seen—
not warm, not inviting, but heavy enough to make her chest tighten.
She wasn't used to this version of him.
Aiden Cross—without cameras—seemed to breathe differently.
"About the vest," Evie said suddenly, pushing the words out before fear could shut her down. "I really want to compensate you. Not because someone forced me—because I don't want to owe you anything."
Silence stretched between them again.
Aiden leaned back slightly against the table, studying her as if seeing her from a new angle.
"You value that… so much?" he asked quietly.
"Because it's my mistake," Evie replied immediately. "Accidental or not, I'm responsible. I don't want people thinking I'm using you. Or that I—"
Her voice caught.
"…created that scandal on purpose."
Aiden exhaled softly. It wasn't a laugh or a sigh—
more like a moment of realization.
"You think I believed you tried to use me?" he asked.
Evie bit her lip. "I think… you once did."
Aiden didn't deny it.
That said enough.
"But today," he continued, his voice dropping to a lower timbre, "I realized my first judgment of you… was wrong."
Evie's pulse skipped.
Aiden rarely said he was wrong.
He almost never admitted it out loud.
She didn't move, afraid the slightest gesture would break the fragile shift in the atmosphere. His gaze held hers, unwavering—too steady, too honest.
After a moment, he changed the subject.
"About the compensation…"
Evie tensed, bracing for a number.
But instead, Aiden tilted his head, tone surprisingly calm.
"I have another method. No money needed."
Evie's eyes widened. "…What is it?"
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Aiden's lips—
not a fan-service smile,
not a stage smile,
but something light, real… almost playful.
"Temporary assistant."
"…What?"
"You'll be my temporary assistant. Until I decide our debt is settled."
Evie felt all the air leave her lungs.
"No—no, that's impossible." She stammered. "I'm just an airport employee. I have no experience. I don't even—"
"You did better today than most trained people," Aiden interrupted. "At the very least, you managed to pull me away from a charging maniac."
"That's not an assistant skill!" Evie sputtered.
"It's useful," he said simply.
Evie opened her mouth but no sound came out.
Aiden stepped one pace closer—just one, but enough to shorten the distance to something her heart didn't approve of. His breathing wasn't intense, but his focus…
his presence…
made it hard for her to hold eye contact.
"Evie," he murmured, testing her name as if curious how it felt to say it. "I'm not forcing you. I'm offering you the simplest way to settle the debt. I don't want your money."
"Why?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
"Because I don't need it." His answer was blunt. "And you… need an opportunity."
Evie froze.
An opportunity?
What did he mean? A job? A clean slate? A way to erase the stain of the scandal?
Or… something deeper she didn't dare consider?
Aiden studied her for a few more seconds before speaking again.
"If you're afraid of new scandals, I'll handle the rest. No one will touch you if you work under my name."
Evie blinked.
Protection.
From him.
Why?
Before she could react, Aiden stepped back half a pace, giving her room to breathe.
"I'm not in a hurry," he said. "But I want an answer before tomorrow's meeting."
Evie stared at the floor. "And if I refuse?"
Aiden tilted his head slightly, choosing the truth rather than something softer.
"Then I'll find someone else."
Simple.
Not threatening.
Not coercive.
But for some reason… her chest tightened.
She inhaled slowly. "I… will think about it."
"Good," Aiden replied.
He turned back toward the glass wall, signaling the conversation was over. But his voice carried once more—low, even, but strangely lingering.
"Evie."
"…Yes?"
"For the first time," he said quietly, eyes still on the glowing skyline, "you don't feel like trouble."
Evie's heartbeat stuttered—then thudded so hard she had to grip her strap again to steady herself.
Aiden Cross was softening.
And she… didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.
- Writer
