Walking Away

CLARA'S POV

His feral, breathtaking smile faded into something unreadable. The silence stretched until the air in the suite felt thick enough to choke on.

"Maybe I just like the idea of watching Rhys Kincaid squirm." His voice rolled through the quiet space. The tone was smooth and dark.

"That is not a real answer." I held my ground.

"It is the only one you are getting." He took a fraction of a step closer.

I tilted my chin up to meet his intense stare. "Then I am not interested in your games. I want no part of this."

"Are you sure about that?"

His large hand lifted. The movement was deliberate. He gave me ample time to step back, to swat him away, or to scream at him to stop. I did none of those things. I stayed frozen, rooted to the thick carpet as his long fingers brushed the edge of my jawline.

All the oxygen vanished from the room.

The touch was barely there. It was a ghost of a caress. Warm skin grazed mine, but it sent raw electricity racing down my spinal cord. The current pooled low in my pelvis.

"Because from where I am standing, you do not look uninterested at all." His thumb traced the sharp ridge of my jaw. The friction was maddeningly slow.

"I..." I swallowed hard. The rest of the sentence died a quick death in my throat.

"Your pupils are dilated." His gaze dropped to my eyes, scanning them like he was reading a menu. "Your breathing is shallow. And if I had to guess..."

His hand shifted. The pad of his thumb pressed against the sensitive pulse point fluttering beneath my ear. He held it there. He felt the frantic, heavy thud of my blood rushing through my veins.

"Your heart is racing," he stated.

I damned him. I damned him for reading me so effortlessly. More than that, I damned my own treacherous body for betraying my logic in record time. I wanted to be cold. I wanted to be a fortress of indifference. Instead, I was melting under the casual touch of a man who held too many secrets.

"That does not mean anything." My voice betrayed me too. It came out breathy, weak, and lacking any real conviction.

"Doesn't it?" His thumb dragged upward, settling lightly against the curve of my bottom lip.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from whimpering. The sound would have humiliated me.

"We could be exceptional together, Clara." He kept his thumb on my lip. His eyes darkened as they dropped to my mouth. "Professionally speaking, of course. We put on a massive public show. We make every single person in this city believe we are obsessed with each other. We make Rhys regret every breath he took without you."

The temptation was a physical weight pressing against my chest. "And what happens when the two months are over? What happens when we are done playing pretend and you have finally acquired whatever hidden thing you are truly after?"

"Then we end it." He shrugged a subtle movement of his broad shoulders. "We walk away amicably. You get your spectacular revenge. I get exactly what I need. Everyone wins."

"Except Rhys."

"Especially Rhys." The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

His thumb pressed a fraction harder against my mouth. My lips parted on pure instinct, craving the friction. The temperature in the suite skyrocketed. Heat crawled up my neck, flooding my cheeks, and settling deep in my core. I was hyper-aware of how close he stood. I smelled his expensive cedar cologne. I watched his chest rise and fall in time with mine.

I needed to break the spell before I did something idiotic, like close the final two inches between us and taste him.

"What are the specific terms?" I stepped back, forcing his hand to drop. The sudden loss of his touch felt like a physical blow. My mind cleared a fraction. "If I were to agree to this insane proposal, what exactly would we have to do for two months?"

Kaelen slipped his hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He looked every inch the billionaire mastermind.

"Public appearances." He listed them off with casual confidence. "Industry games. High-profile dinners. Charity events. We attend the galas. We walk the red carpets. We do whatever couples do."

"We would be a fake couple."

"Does the label really matter?" He tilted his head. "If it looks real to the cameras, if it feels real to the people watching, if everyone in Rhys's circle believes it is real—what is the difference?"

"The difference is that it is a lie. None of it is real."

"Is that what you want? Reality?" He stepped forward again, closing the space I had just fought to create. He leaned down until his face was inches from mine. "Because your reality is Rhys Kincaid screwing other women for the entirety of your relationship. Your reality is him calling you incompetent to his friends. Your reality is you standing freezing in the pouring rain at his practices while he was busy in the locker room with someone else. Is that the pathetic reality you are so desperate to return to?"

His words were brutal. They hit me like physical punches to the gut. I flinched as the memories tore open old wounds. He was right. My reality had been nothing but endless pain, convenient lies, and standing on the sidelines hoping a selfish man would finally notice my worth.

"We would have to sell the illusion." Kaelen let the harsh truth settle over me before lowering his voice to a dark murmur. "We have to make the world believe this is a consuming, passionate romance. That means touching. Holding hands."

He reached out again. This time, his large hand slid around the back of my neck. His long fingers pushed directly into my hair, tangling gently against my scalp. A shiver wrecked my frame.

"Kissing," he added softly.

My knees turned to water. I had to lock my joints to keep from swaying into his solid chest. "Kissing."

"If the situation calls for it." His piercing blue eyes locked onto my mouth and stayed there. "We cannot have the media thinking we are just good friends. The performance requires commitment."

"This is pure insanity." I breathed the words out. I could not stop staring at his lips.

"Maybe." His fingers flexed against my scalp, massaging the roots of my hair in a way that scrambled my thoughts. "But you have not said no."

God help me, I couldn't physically force myself to say the word.

I wanted this. The dark, injured part of my soul screamed at me to sign on the dotted line. I wanted to feel fiercely wanted by a man who commanded the room. I wanted to strut into an arena on Kaelen Voss's arm and watch Rhys Kincaid's jaw hit the floor. I wanted to show my cheating ex exactly what a monumental mistake he had made, rather than remaining the sad, discarded girlfriend crying in the rain.

For one wild, reckless second, I stared into the mesmerizing depths of Kaelen's eyes and surrendered. I almost opened my mouth and let myself fall headfirst into his perfectly laid trap.

Then, a harsh alarm bell rang in the back of my brain. Reality crashed through the haze of my arousal like a sledgehammer.

This man was untouchable. He had carefully orchestrated this entire meeting from the shadows. He possessed a dangerous, hidden agenda that he stubbornly refused to share with me. I had already learned the hardest lesson a woman could learn: men always wanted something. They never offered favors out of the goodness of their hearts. Rhys had used my loyalty until there was nothing left to drain. I refused to let another wealthy, powerful man use me as a convenient stepping stone for his own selfish goals.

I summoned every ounce of strength left in my trembling body. I dropped my shoulders and ducked quickly under his thick arm.

I moved so fast my heel caught on the edge of the rug. I stumbled, nearly tripping over my own feet, but I caught my balance and spun around to face him from a safe distance. The physical space acted like a shield, but my chest still heaved with jagged breaths.

Kaelen turned slowly. His hand fell back to his side. His expression was a blank, unreadable mask.

"No." I forced the single syllable past my shaking voice.

"No?"

"I am not interested in your proposal." I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, digging my nails into my sleeves to ground myself. "I do not need your help. I do not need this grand revenge. And I definitely do not need a stranger playing savior when he is keeping secrets. You have your own agenda, and you won't even explain it to me."

He took a breath to speak. "Clara—"

"Go find someone else to play chess with." I cut him off, spinning toward the exit. I marched to the heavy suite door and wrapped my hand around the brass handle. "I am done being a piece on someone else's board."

I yanked the door open.

His assistant, Sheila, was standing right outside in the hallway. She jumped, her eyes going wide as saucers at my sudden appearance.

"Oh! Are you—did you finish your meeting already?" She clutched a tablet to her chest.

"I quit." I marched past her.

I walked down the long, carpeted corridor. I refused to look back. I knew that if I turned my head even a fraction of an inch, I would see Kaelen Voss standing in that doorway. I would see his broad shoulders, his lethal smile, and those magnetic blue eyes. If I looked back, I would change my mind and sprint right back into his arms.

My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My hands shook, the adrenaline crashing through my system in wild waves. My entire body felt flushed, burning with a mix of anger, fear, and undeniable lust.

I reached the sleek metal doors of the elevator and slammed my palm against the down button. I leaned heavily against the cool marble wall of the alcove, letting my head fall back.

I had actually done it.

I had just walked away from Kaelen Voss. I had turned my back on the most attractive, intimidating man I had ever seen in my life. He had just handed me a golden ticket to the exact revenge my bruised ego craved, and I had thrown it back in his face.

The elevator arrived with a soft chime. The doors slid open to reveal an empty car.

I stepped inside, moving like a zombie. I jabbed the button for the ground floor lobby. The doors slid shut, cutting me off from his floor, his suite, and his overwhelming presence.

A sharp buzz vibrated against my hip.

I jumped. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen lit up with a new text message from an unknown number.

I stared at the glowing digits for three long seconds. A knot tightened in my stomach. I swiped the screen and opened the message.

'Three days, Clara. That's how long my offer stands. After that, you're on your own. – K'

I read the ominous words once. I read them a second time, letting the strict deadline burn into my memory. The countdown had officially started.

My jaw tightened. I tapped the screen, blocking the number.

I shoved the phone deep into my pocket. The elevator began its rapid descent, making my stomach drop, but it did nothing to ease the physical toll Kaelen had left on my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the heavy, throbbing ache and slick wetness deep inside my pussy. The fierce arousal was a humiliating physical reminder of how badly I wanted him to ruin me.

I stared at the changing floor numbers, my mind spinning in circles.

I had just made a choice. I either made the smartest, most self-preserving decision of my entire life, or I had just made the most colossal, stupid mistake in history.

Only time would tell which one.