His Forbidden Ward

CHAPTER FOUR: The Guardian's Gaze

MIA

The air in the cemetery felt suddenly toxic, too thick to breathe. The rain continued to fall in a heavy, relentless sheet, drumming against the fabric of my black umbrella, but all I could hear was the frantic, deafening thud of my own heart racing against my ribs.

Aleksander Tremain.

The name echoed in my mind, heavy and terrifying. This wasn’t a faceless stranger from a dark lounge. This wasn't just a man who had used his hands, his mouth, and his dominant weight to drive me to the edge of madness only hours ago. This was my father’s closest confidant. The man whose name I had heard spoken in hushed, respectful tones throughout my entire childhood. The billionaire tycoon who had spent the last seven years across the Atlantic, building an empire alongside my father.

And now, according to Mr. Vance, he was my legal guardian.

I stared up at him, my lips parted in silent shock. Up close in the unforgiving grey light of day, Aleksander looked even more imposing than he had in the shadows of the penthouse suite. He towered over both me and the aging lawyer, a monolith of wealth and absolute authority. But the calm, unyielding composure he usually wore like armor was entirely gone.

His piercing grey eyes were fixed on me, wide with a dark, turbulent mixture of shock and sheer horror. The muscle in his hard jaw leaped violently under his dark stubble as he clenched his teeth, his gaze raking over my youthful face, my tear-stained cheeks, and the black funeral dress that marked me as the daughter of his late best friend.

The last time he had seen me, I was a thirteen-year-old child. Last night, in the dark, he hadn't recognized the woman I had become. And I had been too drowned in my own grief to care who he was.

"Aleksander," Mr. Vance said, completely oblivious to the silent earthquake shattering the ground beneath our feet. He turned to the billionaire, gesturing gently toward me. "This is little Mia. The last time you were in the country, she was barely up to your chest. Look how much she’s grown. She has her mother's eyes. And these are her friends—Chloe, Ethan, Elena, Brittany, and young Liam Blackwood.”

At the mention of my mother, a visible flinch passed through Aleksander’s massive frame. The guilt radiating off him was almost palpable, a suffocating heat that defied the freezing rain. He had just spent the night corrupting the daughter of the man he was supposed to honor.

For a long, agonizing moment, Aleksander didn't speak. He ignored the introduction of my friends entirely, his dark eyes locked solely on me with an intense, warning expression. Then, his eyes drifted lower, landing onto Liam's arm still resting at my waist with a sudden, lethal intensity. His brows drew together as a dangerous shadow swept across his face.

"Mia," Aleksander finally spoke. His voice was a low, gravelly baritone—the exact same rough, commanding purr that had whispered little bird against my bare skin while pinning my wrists above my head. An involuntary shiver rippled down my spine at the sound. "I am... deeply sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man."

"Thank you, Sir…. Mr. Tremain," I corrected, my voice trembling. The dangerous slip of my tongue sent a spike of pure adrenaline through my chest, and I forced myself to quickly correct it to his formal name, trying desperately to play the part of the grieving, innocent ward.

A flash of something dark and possessive flared in his grey eyes when I let that word slip before calling him Mr. Tremain, a sharp contrast to the breathless Please... sir I had gasped out into his pillows last night. He noticed the slip.

"Mr. Vance is right," Aleksander continued, his tone shifting into something cold, professional, and entirely detached. It was the voice of a billionaire who was used to managing crises and controlling every variable. "You look exhausted, child. You need to return home and rest. We will handle the legalities tomorrow."

"Yes, quite right," Mr. Vance agreed, nodding in approval. "The reading of the will is scheduled for ten o'clock tomorrow morning at my chambers. I have already arranged for a car to take Mia back to the estate."

"No need, Vance," Aleksander cut in smoothly, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. It was a command wrapped in politeness. "My driver will take her home. I want to ensure she arrives safely."

I looked up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. The thought of being trapped in his car, or under his direct supervision so soon after what we had done, made my mind spin with anxiety. "That really isn't necessary, Mr. Tremain. I am with my friends. I can take the arranged car with them."

"I insist, Mia," he said, stepping closer. The scent of him—expensive leather, cedarwood, and the rain—enveloped me instantly, erasing the smell of the wet earth and the cemetery. He leaned down slightly, his massive shadow blocking out the rest of the world. "Your father would expect me to look after you. From this moment on, your safety is my responsibility."

The subtext in his words was clear. He was taking control of the situation, and he was taking control of me.

Mr. Vance smiled warmly, completely blind to the thick, forbidden tension vibrating between us. "Well, that is wonderfully settled then. I will see you both tomorrow morning at ten." With a final, comforting pat on my shoulder, the old lawyer turned and walked away toward the line of waiting vehicles.

"Mia, do you want us to come with you?" Chloe asked softly, her voice filled with deep concern as she glanced between me and the intimidating billionaire. Brittany offered a small, encouraging nod, her eyes still red from crying.

Before I could even find my voice, Aleksander cut a sharp, icy glance over my friends, his stormy eyes lingering heavily on Liam's hand at my waist until Liam slowly, reluctantly lowered his arm.

"She needs to get out of the cold," Aleksander stated, his voice a smooth, impenetrable wall. "I am taking her straight home so she can rest. Thank you for being here for her." It was a polite dismissal, but the underlying steel in his tone made it clear that the discussion was over.

Ethan quietly drew Chloe back a step, anchoring her, while Elena gave my hand one last tight, supportive squeeze before their small group began to slowly disperse toward the cemetery gates under the pouring rain, leaving me entirely alone with the stranger from my bed.

"In the car. Now," he growled, his voice dropping to a rough, dangerous whisper that made my knees go weak.

Without waiting for my answer, he gripped my elbow. His touch was firm, possessive, and burning hot through the fabric of my coat, reminding me instantly of the way he had held me down on the mattress. He guided me forcefully toward the waiting black Maybach, opening the door himself and ushering me into the plush, shadowed interior before sliding in right next to me.