Marcel’s POV

Did I take it too far? Definitely.

Would I take it back? Absolutely not.

I knew Aria better than she probably knew herself. If I had shown up at her doorstep, she would have slammed the door in my face without a second thought. But here...here she couldn’t throw me out.

And I have the pleasure of watching her face right now.

Her honey tan skin glowed against the office light. Her curls framed her face in a way that always made me want to sink my hands into them. The dusting of freckles across her nose….all one hundred and fifty of them. Her brown eyes burned with fire. From her eyes I could tell there were things she wanted to say but she was holding back more than she wanted to admit. Her lips, God… those lips.

I leaned in, close enough to taste her, close enough to remind her of everything she tried to bury.

She shoved me hard, breaking free of my hold.

“Ar....”

My head snapped to the side, pain exploding across my cheek.

She slapped me.

Honestly, I was surprised it hadn’t happened the moment I walked in. Still, I turned back to her, jaw tight, lips twitching at the sting.

“Touch me again and I’ll fuck up that pretty face of yours.”

I rubbed my jaw, smirking through the ache. “I don’t care what I look like, as long as you think I’m pretty.”

Her eyes burned into me. “I hate you.”

“As I said, I’ll send a car tonight. Nine o’clock.”

I straightened, adjusting my cufflinks. Normally she wouldn’t show up, but this wasn’t about me. It was about the company, the handful of people who still depended on her. She wouldn’t let them suffer, not for her pride. And that meant she’d come.

“I’ll see you then,” I told her, before walking out of her office.

The moment the door shut behind me, I paused, letting my gaze sweep over the space one more time. Every corner screamed of her, her determination, her grit. I was proud of her. God, I was so damn proud.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Yeah. Bring the car around.”

I ended the call almost immediately and sank into one of the lobby chairs, scrolling through emails while I waited for the car. The faint smell of lavender hit the air, pulling me out of the screen.

Aria.

My head snapped up, eyes darting around. But she wasn’t there. Not until I glanced down and found someone standing in front of me.

Not her.

A girl. She wasn’t even looking at me, not really. Her gaze was fixed on the ink sprawling across my arms, her teeth tugging at the inside of her cheek like she was working something out in her head. Black curls framed her face, her eyes catching the light.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She didn’t blink. “Why are they all black?”

Her eyes finally lifted to meet mine, curious and a little bold….I raised a brow at her and she pointed at my tattoos

“Let’s just say for a long time I haven’t had any color in my life.” I folded my arms across my chest, the weight of the words heavier than I meant them to be.

“That must be sad.” She bit at her cheek again, this time harder. “Can I color them? I’ll add all the colors you want.”

She looked up at me with eyes so hopeful, but in all honesty there wasn't a universe where I would tell her no. With a quiet breath, I stretched out my arm.

“Color away, miss…”

“Hope,” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement.

I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my mouth. She unzipped her bag and pulled out a box of crayons—no, markers. Choosing the red, she went straight for my rose tattoo and began to fill it in.

Minutes passed. Maybe ten. She hummed under her breath, soft at first, then steady. The tune itched at the back of my mind until recognition hit. “From now on”.

The Greatest Showman.

The memory tugged hard, yanking me back.

Aria, curled up in our tiny college apartment, shoving the DVD into my hand.

“I promise it’s a good show.”

I leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “You told me you were naked.”

My eyes had dragged down her body, catching the belt looped in her jeans. She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the flush on her cheeks.

“Watch it with me.” Her voice softened, dropped into something closer to a plea.

And even then...

there was no way I could have refused her.

“Sure."

That was how I got sold. Not the movie itself, but her sheer happiness when she sang along to “Never Enough”.

Aria can't sing to save her life, but I’d take her voice over anyone else’s. Always.

“Sir.”

The voice pulled me back. I lifted my head and met the gaze of Sofia—Aria’s secretary. Her eyes flicked from my face to my arm, then down to the little artist who had fallen asleep halfway through her masterpiece.

“I’m sorry,” Sofia said gently, scooping the girl up with practiced care. “She usually heads to the playroom or goes upstairs.” She gathered the scattered crayons with her free hand.

“I’m not complaining.”

My eyes lingered on the small figure curled in Sofia’s arm with ink stains on her fingertips.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’ll come home soon enough,” I whispered. “I just need to convince your mom first.”

~~~~~~

Aria’s POV

Do I want to be here? No.

But I had to be. And he knew I’d come.

King Corporation had a way of swallowing small companies whole, leaving nothing but scraps. At some point the owners didn’t even recognize their own business anymore, and eventually they just walked away.

I couldn’t let that happen. This wasn’t just about me….it was about the people who depended on me, the ones who trusted me to keep fighting even when every part of me wanted to run.

I stepped out of the car and shut the door behind me, but my eyes lingered on it.

The red Bentley.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. He’d bought it back in college after catching me walking home in the rain. His exact words were, “You can use it to run your errands...if it's too small or too cheap let me know”

I shaked my head, as if I could shake the memory loose too.

“Miss Aria.”

A smile pulled at my lips when I saw Edward. He had more gray hair now than the last time I saw him, but he was still the same.

“Hi, Edward. How have you been?” I asked, giving him a light hug.

He stayed stiff, not returning it....typical Edward.

“Sir is waiting in the dining room,” he said.

Edward didn’t need to show me where the dining room was. I remembered every corner of this house, whether I wanted to or not.

The moment I stepped in, he was there...phone in hand, he was taking a picture of his tattoo on his arm, His eyes found mine almost instantly, sharp and unrelenting, like he’d been waiting for me to walk in.

I walked towards him ,heels clicking against the polished floor, and set my purse down on the table. I didn’t sit. Couldn’t.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, though my voice wasn’t as steady as I wanted it to be. That stuipd smile on his face told me he heard the crack in it.

My hands found the zipper at the back of my dress. The sound of it sliding down filled the silence, louder than it should have been. the dress slipped from my shoulders, cool air brushing my skin. My chest felt tight, my throat was too dry, but I kept going.

And then I stripped.