Chapter Fifteen
1105 Words
Ryan's POV
5:30 AM.
The alarm went off, sharp and shrill.
Ryan’s eyes snapped open the moment the sound echoed through the penthouse. He didn’t need the reminder. His body had already started moving a few seconds before the clock struck time, the result of years of discipline—both from boardrooms and blood-stained backrooms.
He pushed the sheets aside, his feet hitting the cold marble. For a split second, his thoughts darted toward the faint scent still lingering on the fabric—the ghost of Aanya. His jaw clenched. He shoved the thought aside.
Today was not the day for weakness.
He changed into his gym gear: black sleeveless shirt clinging to his sculpted chest, dark joggers riding low on his hips. The gym inside his penthouse was as stark and cold as the man himself—minimalist, efficient, and built for pain.
His fists hit the punching bag with controlled power. One. Two. Three. A jab, a hook, a cross.
But no matter how much force he poured into the bag, one face kept interrupting his focus. Big brown eyes. Messy hair. That stubborn mouth that kept arguing with him—until yesterday, when one look had her falling silent.
And that kiss…
His breath hitched for the briefest second before he struck harder, as if punishing himself for feeling anything at all.
She kissed me.
He didn’t even see it coming. One minute, she was flustered, refusing his gift, and the next—she silenced him. With lips that trembled. With hands that fisted his shirt like she couldn’t let go.
And then she ran. Leaving him stunned. Like a bullet had hit him point-blank, and for the first time… he didn’t know whether to feel pain or pleasure.
7:45 AM
Post-shower, Ryan suited up.
Charcoal grey Armani. White crisp shirt. Silver tie. His hair was slicked back in sharp, precise strokes, jaw freshly shaven, and watch strapped on like armor. He looked every bit the billionaire people feared. No one could guess the chaos he carried beneath that steel-cut exterior.
Downstairs, the staff had already laid out his breakfast—scrambled eggs, avocado toast, black coffee. But he had no appetite. Still, he ate, mechanically, sipping the bitterness of his coffee like it would erase last night.
It didn’t.
He reached for his phone, checking the secure messages from his inside man at the university. Code name: Orion.
Orion:
“Aanya arrived at 8:10 AM. Looks anxious. Avoiding large groups.”
His jaw tightened.
So the rumors had reached her.
He had heard about them last night—snide whispers, judging glances. Students talking about how she spent the night with him. That she was ‘his latest girl.’
Disgust rose like bile in his throat. He should have silenced them all.
But he wasn’t there. And Aanya—she bore the brunt of it alone.
8:30 AM – Williamson & Co. HQ
The towering glass building that bore his name stood like a fortress in the city skyline. As his black Mercedes slid into the underground parking, the security team was already in formation.
“Good morning, Mr. Williamson,” his PA greeted, matching his pace with practiced steps.
He didn’t respond. He never did.
The elevator opened directly to the top floor—his domain. Sleek. Black. Silent.
Employees along the way bowed their heads, murmuring good mornings, more out of fear than respect.
He walked through them like a storm in a suit. Silent. Deadly. Untouchable.
Inside his office, he reviewed a few contracts, made a couple of high-stake calls, and approved a merger deal worth millions—all while his mind was five miles away, in a college campus, wondering what Aanya had eaten for breakfast. If she’d eaten at all.
Pathetic, he muttered to himself.
But there was no denying it. She had rooted herself in places of him he never thought existed.
1:00 PM – St. Augustine’s University
He arrived at the campus under the guise of a fabricated meeting about a new scholarship program. The dean welcomed him personally, nervous and eager to please.
He didn’t care. His eyes scanned the courtyard. Orion messaged again.
“She’s in Lecture Hall B. Class ends at 1:30 PM.”
Perfect.
He walked into the university like he owned it—because he did.
He took his seat in the guest meeting room, his back to the glass walls, but his gaze kept darting to his watch. Each tick fueled his anticipation. His palms were on the armrest, perfectly still—but inside, a storm brewed.
Would she look at me the same way again?
Would she remember how close they had gotten?
Would she run again?
1:30 PM
The bell rang.
Laughter. Chatter. The hallway began to fill up with students filing out of lecture halls. He stood just beside the entrance now, leaning casually against the wall, the sleeves of his coat unbuttoned, one hand in his pocket.
He spotted her instantly.
Aanya.
She wore a soft peach kurti paired with jeans, a delicate gold chain around her neck. Her hair was braided loosely to one side, strands escaping and dancing in the breeze.
She was with her friends, talking quietly.
And then she looked up—and their eyes met.
For a moment, the world stilled.
Her expression faltered. Just a second.
And then—she turned. Fast. Head down, pace quickening. No glance back. No hesitation.
Just silence.
Ryan’s body stilled.
The smile that almost surfaced—the one reserved only for her—froze in place.
She’s avoiding me.
The girl who kissed him like he was air in a suffocating room… now walked away like he didn’t exist.
He didn’t move. Not right away. Let the pain settle. Let the realization land.
For the first time in years, Ryan Williamson felt helpless.
And he hated it.
2:15 PM
Back in the car, Gabe sat silently in the driver’s seat, watching him through the rearview mirror.
“Sir?” he asked carefully.
Ryan said nothing for a moment. Then finally:
“She’s avoiding me.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Ryan’s gaze dropped to his phone again.
Another message from Orion:
“She left campus quickly. Seems shaken. Quiet.”
He closed his eyes, head leaning back against the leather seat.
This wasn’t over.
He would see her again.
Even if she ran, even if she hated him—he wasn’t letting her go.
Not now.
Not when she was already beneath his skin, wrapped around his soul, tangled in the spaces he had kept hidden even from himself.
- Writer
