Aria’s POV

"What did you just say?"

I should have sounded stronger, but my voice cracked and my eyes betrayed me, shamelessly dragging over him.

Five years.

It’s been five years.

He was slimmer, his clothes not tailored like before, but he was still fit. Still him.

My gaze lifted back to his face. His smile was there, faint but sharp, and it unsettled me.

"What did you just say?" I asked again, finally letting his words sink in.

"I bought your company. I’m the new CEO of Rooted," he repeated.

My stomach knotted. "That’s not possible. I never sold anything to you."

Anger flared hot in my veins, rising faster than I could calm it.

"Not to me," he said keeping his voice smooth, almost amused. "But to the bank. I made a few calls, threatened to withdraw and close my accounts. And well…" His smile widened and his eyes locked on me like I was the only one in the room. "I always get what I want."

He said it calmly like he had all the time in the world.

“Bullshit. I sold thirty percent. I still have forty-five. And Taylor has twenty-five.”

“Taylor had twenty-five,” he corrected “She currently has five. Which leaves me with fifty percent… if I’m not wrong.”

“Taylor would never sell—”

The words were still in my mouth when a woman stepped forward and handed me a folder. My fingers shook as I flipped through the pages.

The bank’s logo.

Taylor’s signature.

I felt my chest cave in. Nothing hurt more than this. She was my best friend and Rooted silent partner, but there it was, her name in black ink.

And in some twisted way, I wasn’t even surprised. She always liked Marcel.

But just because I wasn’t surprised didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“So,” Marcel’s voice pulled me out of the spiral, low and steady. But his eyes weren’t on me. They were on the investors, who were still sitting there, frozen, like they didn’t know whether to speak or move.

“I said get out of my office,” he told them. “Do I need to say it in French? Or should I call security?”

Their faces flushed red, a mix of anger and humiliation, and then all their attention snapped to me.

“I’m… I’m so sorry about this,” I stammered, bending slightly, trying to give a curt bow to save something, anything.

But before I could finish, Marcel’s hand caught my arm. His grip was firm, pulling me upright.

“Why are you bowing to them?” His voice was sharp now, his eyes burning into mine.

Then he turned back to the investors, his command absolute.

“Get out.”

I yanked my hand from his and walked out, heading straight to my office.

What the hell just happened?

My chest was tight as I dug into my bag for my phone. Screw the time difference and I dialed Taylor anyway.

She picked up on the first ring.

“What the hell, Taylor?”

“Well, good morning to you too.”

“You sold your shares without consulting me? Without even asking me?”

“Well, he asked nicely,” she said, too calm for someone who’d just stabbed me in the back. “And he said he wanted to see you—”

Before she could finish, my phone was plucked from my hand.

I spun around, and there he was. Marcel.

He glanced at the screen, a faint smile curling his stupid perfect mouth, before hanging up the call.

“If you want to complain about me, sweetheart,” he murmured, stepping closer, “I’m right here. Tell me.”

He was toe to toe with me now, his scent wrapping around me. The same cologne I’d bought him for our second wedding anniversary. He’d promised we’d meet in France, promised we’d celebrate there. I waited. He came three days later.

“Something came up at the office,” he’d said.

Lies. It was always the office when in reality it was always another woman. While I spent three nights alone in Paris, convincing myself he loved me.

Rage flooded me. I shoved hard at his chest.

“Get out. Just go.”

He adjusted his suit like my push hadn’t even registered, then walked right past me and sat down in my chair like he owned the air I breathed.

“You're kind of missing the part where this is my company now,” he said casually, reclining in my seat.

“If you won’t give it back, I’ll buy it back. Just name the amount. I’ll pay you back with interest.”

He lifted a brow, eyes gleaming like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

The fight left me in a rush. My shoulders sagged as the truth hit me. I was broke….my company is on the verge of filing for bankruptcy but still I'm not letting him have it

“If you’ll allow it… I can pay you back in bits.” My voice was small, weak, and I hated it.

“That’s the thing, sweetheart.” He stood, straightening his jacket. His tone was smooth, certain. “I don’t want your money.”

The silence between us crackled, heavy and sharp.

“Then what?” My voice cracked as it rose. My chest heaved, anger and fear knotted in one. “What do I have to do to get you to leave? What do you want then?”

He hummed low, rounding the desk slowly. My heart jumped with every step he took toward me.

Then he leaned back against the table, close enough to touch, his hand sliding to my waist before I could stop him. My breath hitched as his fingers tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“I want you.”

My thighs clenched. My pulse roared in my ears. I swallowed hard, but it felt like nothing went down.

“You’re insane,” I whispered, forcing the words out. “And it will never happen.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a threat.

“It happened once upon a time.”

“Never again.”

“We’ll see about that.” His voice was soft, but it cut like glass. “You want this company back, don’t you?”

He leaned close enough for me to feel his breath against my cheek.

“My house. Eight o’clock. I’ll send a car.”