Page 11

I glanced at the name flashing on the screen of my buzzing phone. My eyes squinted, a glint of surprise settling on my face for just a moment.

Strange.

What was even stranger was the hour this call was coming in. I shot a quick look at my watch; it was almost nine o’clock in the evening. I reached for the buzzing phone on my mahogany table and stared at the caller ID.

Ayla.

I stroked my jaw, amused, pleased, and yet in shock at the bizarre scenario. I didn’t pick up on the first ring—I’d rather not appear too available or too desperate. Even though deep down in my heart, I was hoping she’d call back a second time.

Once could so easily be ruled out as a mistake.

Twice, on the other hand, would definitely be on purpose. Meaning, whatever she had to say or ask had to be important.

Seconds later, she called back, and my lips twisted into a sly, self-satisfied grin. After all these weeks, she decided to reach out today, at such an ungodly hour.

You got heart, kid.

“Hi,” she greeted me on the other line, her voice soft and weak, laced with traces of anger—maybe even pain.

My brows knitted together, that sly grin gradually fading from my lips. “Are you alright?” I asked, concerned.

“I, uh….” She paused, sniffling. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”

She didn’t sound okay. In fact, she sounded hurt. I could hear it in her tone, and could almost sense it through the phone.

“Ayla, what is it?” I pushed, driven by my genuine concern.

“Can you, like…come…pick me up?” she asked, hesitant, as if reconsidering her decision.

“Right now?”

She kept quiet for a little while, then, “Yes—but if that’s too much to ask—”

“Where are you?” I cut her off, rising from my chair.

“I’m sending you my location now,” she replied.

“I’m on my way.” I grabbed my jacket, slipped into it, and stormed out of my study.

For someone who didn’t want to appear as too available, I was doing the exact opposite. In my defense, at the time, I wasn’t thinking straight. Ayla was in some sort of trouble, and she needed my help. I wasn’t going to let her down.

Once in my car, I started the engine and zoomed out of the mansion. A minute or so later, her location popped up on my screen, and my eyes narrowed in confusion. I recognized that street. It was just across her father’s estate.

That was weird.

Why did she need me to pick her up when she was…? Oh, little Miss O’Hara must be craving some freedom from the walls of her father’s mansion. She wasn’t just a pretty face with incredible biking skills.

She was a rebel. Impressive.

Judging from the sound of her voice—the anger and pain in her tone—I was guessing someone must have pissed her off. My money was on Ronan. The sick bastard’s stepped on my toes many times, too.

Ayla knew that I was her father’s rival, yet she called me. Ronan must have crossed the line this time, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done that was so bad she had to reach out to me.

With how fast I drove, my car speeding up the highway like a bolt of lightning, it didn’t take long to get to her location.

I spotted her under a tree, pacing back and forth, visibly upset.

She was dressed in a formal outfit, as if she were going on a date —a sage green blouse, a sleek black skirt that accentuated her shape, and a pair of black heels.

I pulled up by the sidewalk and honked the car on, winding down my window.

She looked over her shoulders, as if to be sure no one was watching, before heading toward her ride.

“Get in.” I nodded at the front passenger seat.

She walked over to the other side, opened the door, and slid inside. “Thanks for coming so fast.” She slammed the door shut behind her, her voice low and even.

“Anytime,” I replied, watching how she folded her arms across her chest, eyes avoiding mine. “So, where to?”

She heaved a sigh and murmured under her breath, “Anywhere but here.”

“Alright.” I started the engine and drove away.

She was silent almost all through the drive, her head resting on the glass, her mind probably far away. A faint scowl settled on her face, and her brows furrowed, her breath uneven.

What she needed was a quiet place to think, and I knew just the right place to take her. I owned more than a few buildings across the city, one of which was only a few blocks from here. Minutes later, we arrived, and I pulled up in front of the building, gravel crunching beneath my tires.

A little alarmed, she turned to face me, eyes squinting. “What is this place?”

I chuckled, undoing my seatbelt. “Relax, I’m not some murderous psychopath. You’re safe.”

She shifted her gaze out the windshield, her eyes on the building looming before them.

“Come on,” I said, stepping out of the car, my voice smooth and gentle.

She followed me into the building, a little skeptical and uptight in a way that made it obvious she didn’t completely trust me. I didn’t blame her.

However, she had a swift change of heart, and her mood lightened up ever so slightly the moment we stepped onto the flat rooftop, a hidden gem tucked above the city chaos.

The roof was nearly bare—no sleek furniture, just a couple of dark, weatherproof chairs, a low table, and string lights that cast a warm glow over the space.

A small smile spread across her face as her expression softened, heels clicking against the floor. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if trying to relax her mind and body.

The breeze carried the distant hum of traffic, the blaring of sirens, and the occasional honk below.

Ayla stepped toward the edge, the skyline stretching out before her like a painting—sharp glass towers, blinking lights, a few stars fighting through the city haze. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Feels like another world entirely.”

“Told you you’re safe,” I replied with the same tone.

She glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling into a faint smile as she wrapped her arms around herself.

I headed over to the small bar cart tucked near the wall and poured two drinks before walking toward the edge. “Here you go,” I said, handing her a glass.

“Thank you,” she whispered, accepting it from me.

We stood there in silence until I made the first move and sat on the edge, my glass in my hand. At first, she hesitated for reasons best known to her. Then, after a while, she joined me, eyes fixed across the cityscape as she sipped from her glass.

The silence between us was more comfortable than awkward, and I could feel her tension slowly easing off. She seemed relaxed, as if she were at peace. Or something that resembled it.

“Do you ever feel stuck…?” she asked, without turning to look at me, her voice almost a whisper.

Now, we were getting somewhere.

I didn’t respond, just gave off a calm, welcoming aura—an atmosphere serene enough for her to spill her guts.

“…like you’re in the wrong place, suffocating, and all you wanna do is just…run?” She turned in my direction, her expression soft and helpless.

“We’ve all been there, Ayla,” I said, my eyes meeting hers. “It’s a dark place…especially when there’s no way out.”

“See, that’s the problem—there is a way out for me,” she recalled, her tone sharp and defiant. “I just…I just….” She sighed, frustration laced in her voice. “I’m just a coward.”

I stared at her in silence, watching as she struggled to fight back her tears and frustration. “I’ve lived long enough to know a coward when I see one,” I began, my voice soft and tender. “You, Ayla, are not a coward.”

She sniffled, stealing a glance in my direction. “Then what do you call someone who knows what they have to do but is too afraid to make a move—a move that would grant them the freedom they crave?”

“Human,” I replied.

She squinted her eyes, an abrupt chuckle escaping her lips. “What does that mean?”

My face lit up with a smile. I brightened her mood; that was progress. “Being afraid is part of what makes us human. But fear doesn’t make you weak, Ayla. It doesn’t make you a coward either.”

She stared at me with a broad smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. A glint of amusement danced across her features, and her lips parted like she was about to speak. But then, she didn’t.

“What?” I asked, brows furrowing in curiosity.

“It’s just….” Her grin widened, her gaze locked to mine. “I didn’t….”

I cocked my head to the side. “Oh, I get it.” I laughed lightly. “You’re shocked that a man like me would support fear.”

“Well….” Speechless, she shrugged her shoulders, chuckling quietly. “I’m just surprised.”

“I’m not supporting fear, Ayla,” I said, my eyes never leaving hers. “I’m supporting you.”

That initial silence fell again, this time a little more awkward than comfortable. Yet, neither of us tore our gazes from the other. We remained like that, staring into each other’s eyes, until she blinked and looked away.

Ayla sipped her drink and heaved a sigh.

“I’m just so tired of everything, you know,” she said, eyes fixed on the lights below.

“Playing the part, trying to please everyone, and being the perfect daughter. I’m so sick and tired of pretending, Sergei.

” She looked at me again. Her voice faltered at the end, not breaking but strained.

I didn’t interrupt; I just sat there by her side, listening and watching her. And perhaps for the very first time, I got to really see her, without the walls, the mask of a polished exterior. Just her. The real Ayla O’Hara.

“I can’t wait for this phase of my life to be over,” she added, eyes still locked to mine. “I can’t wait to be free and be with whoever I want…regardless of who they are.” The slight pause came when her voice, tinged with a hint of passion, dropped lower.

The atmosphere shifted to something a bit more sensual, and I could almost hear the sound of her heart beating in her chest. I didn’t look away, nor did she. And the longer we stared at each other, the closer our heads drew, as though being pulled by a magnetic force.

My eyes flickered to her lips, drinking in the perfect curve of her mouth as we leaned in. Her breath was warm on my face, her cherry lips mere inches from mine. A flutter rose in my chest, and my pulse quickened.

Strange.

The air was thick with tension, and time itself seemed to have stood still.

She closed her eyes, and a second later, her soft lips locked with mine.

A gentle breeze brushed against my face as I kissed back, leaning in as if seeking a deeper connection.

She did the same, her tongue graciously sliding into my mouth.

Heads tilted to the rhythm of this strange passion coursing through us.

Just before I lost myself in ecstasy, she reopened her eyes, broke the kiss, and pulled back from me.

Her eyes dropped to the floor as she pulled some hair strands behind her ear.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her hands slightly trembling in response to the thrill sprinting through her body.

That kiss, though short-lived, ignited a flame within me—a sense of desire, raw and longing that I now had to quench. She blinked rapidly, her chest heaving with slow breaths as if she were struggling to calm the heat spreading through her body.

The sexual tension between us was off the charts, and personally, it took everything in me to resist the attraction. All I wanted was to grab her hand, pull her to me, and kiss those lips until we both lost control.

That was my deepest, darkest desire right now.

But I wouldn’t. No. Not tonight.

“That was unexpected,” I teased softly, attempting to ease the tension in the air.

Ayla chuckled, a bit nervous. “Yeah…it was,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her anxiety.

“Hey, no judgment. We all get a little…overwhelmed sometimes,” I added.

“Right.” She faced me, chuckling.

My God, she was gorgeous.

Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it, and I didn’t bother to ask why. I didn’t want to pry. All I did was keep her company and respond to only the things she told me.

Later, before midnight, we decided it was best to take her home. It was getting late already, and I didn’t want her getting in trouble with Ronan, even though I knew deep down that the drama was far from over.

I dropped her off at the same location I picked her up earlier. It was better that no one spotted her with me, of all people, at this time of night.

“Thank you,” she said, shooting a glance at me.

“Anytime,” I replied, a faint grin tugging at the corners of my lips. “If you ever need a break from being a good daughter…I’m just one call away.”

She didn’t respond, but her smile gave her away.

I watched her step out of the vehicle and head straight home without looking back. It wasn’t until I was sure that she was safe behind the gates of her father’s estate that I drove away, feeling accomplished.