Aria’s POV.
The bar buzzed with an energy that felt alive and yet soothing, a delicate balance of soft, melodic music weaving through the gentle hum of conversation.
The golden lights hung low, casting their warm glow over the polished wood and sleek glass surfaces, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and inviting.
Outside, the ocean stretched endlessly, its surface shimmering faintly under the soft light of the moon. The waves rolled in slow, steady rhythms, their gentle crash against the shore blending seamlessly with the ambiance of the bar.
It was a setting that seemed designed for peace, for calm, for relaxation. But for me, the calmness was only a facade. Beneath the carefully crafted serenity around me, my thoughts were anything but tranquil.
I was the first to arrive, stepping into the bar with slow, deliberate grace. The soft fabric of my deep-green gown trailed behind me like a whisper, its rich color catching the golden light and shifting subtly as I moved. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, emphasizing my curves before flowing freely, giving me an air of elegance and confidence. But this dress wasn’t just clothing-it was a weapon, a declaration. Tonight, I wasn’t here to fade into the background or let someone else control the narrative. I wanted to be noticed. Not just by Zander, but by everyone. Every step I took was purposeful, every glance calculated. This wasn’t about rebellion-it was about reclaiming the parts of myself I had let go of, the parts I had hidden away for far too long. Tonight, I was done hiding.
I spotted Asher immediately. He was leaning casually against the sleek bar, a glass of amber whiskey in his hand, the golden liquid catching the light as he swirled it slowly. His posture was relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world, but there was something about his presence that made it impossible to ignore him. The sharp angles of his face were accentuated by the warm glow of the lights, giving him an almost sculpted, otherworldly appearance. He looked up as I approached, his dark, penetrating eyes narrowing slightly as they swept over me. For a moment, something flickered in his expression-surprise, maybe, or something deeper he didn’t want to show. But just as quickly, he composed himself, his features smoothing into that practiced mask of calm confidence.
“Aria,” he said, his voice smooth and rich, like the whiskey in his hand. It wasn’t just a greeting-it was an acknowledgment, a subtle but deliberate way of letting me know he saw me, really saw me. There was something in his tone that sent a shiver down my spine, a quiet weight that made his words linger in the air between us. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you,” I replied, letting my lips curve into a small but deliberate smile. I didn’t drop his gaze, holding it for just a second longer than necessary. I wanted him to know I wasn’t just here to be polite or play nice. I was here for a reason, and I wasn’t about to shrink from it.
The moment didn’t last long. Moments later, I felt the shift in the air before I even turned around. Zander had arrived. His presence was impossible to miss-it was like the entire room adjusted to accommodate the weight of him. The hum of conversation in the bar seemed to quiet just slightly, as if even the air itself was holding its breath. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing with authority. He didn’t need to announce himself; his arrival demanded attention without a single word.
When I turned, there he was, dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him perfectly, every detail meticulous and polished. His hair was slicked back, his sharp jawline tense, and his dark eyes carried the quiet, simmering intensity that always seemed to follow him. Normally, Zander’s presence would have been enough to shift the balance in any room, to remind everyone who was in charge. But tonight, that wasn’t the case. Tonight, I wasn’t going to let him control the narrative. Tonight, I was the one in control.
Dinner was a battlefield disguised as a meal. The table was perfectly set, the plates pristine, the food exquisite, but the tension in the air was impossible to ignore. Every word spoken felt loaded, every glance charged with unspoken meaning. The conversation ebbed and flowed, but it was never easy. Zander barely spoke. He sat stiffly, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet, smoldering anger that radiated from him in waves. His eyes were fixed on me and Asher the entire time, watching our every interaction like a predator stalking its prey. His gaze was sharp and unrelenting, but I refused to let it intimidate me.
Asher, in contrast, was the picture of calm composure. He was charming, his words flowing easily, his tone light and conversational. But beneath the surface, there was an edge to everything he said, a subtle defiance that made it clear he wasn’t afraid of Zander. He smiled often, but it wasn’t a warm smile-it was calculated, deliberate, designed to provoke without crossing the line. And it worked. Every time Asher leaned in closer to me, every time his voice dropped to a more intimate tone, I could feel the tension in the room spike.
“So, Aria,” Asher said smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto mine. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, a curiosity that made me feel like he was peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had. “Tell me, how have you been?”
I matched his energy effortlessly, my laughter lingering just a little too long, my smile just a little too bright. “Oh, you know,” I said, my voice light and playful, “life with Zander is always…interesting.” My tone was deliberately ambiguous, a quiet jab that I knew Zander would catch.
I didn’t need to look at Zander to know how he was reacting. I could feel the anger radiating off him, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken. His hand gripped the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched in barely-contained fury.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Aria,” he said, his tone laced with warning, “a word.”
I turned to him slowly, feigning innocence as I met his glare head-on. “What is it, Zander?” I asked sweetly, my voice calm and composed, as if I couldn’t feel the storm of anger swirling just beneath his surface.
“You’re testing my patience,” he hissed, his tone low enough that only I could hear. His eyes burned with fury, his jaw tight as he leaned closer to me, his presence overwhelming.
I leaned closer too, refusing to back down. My voice dropped to a whisper, my lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “And you’re testing mine,” I replied, my words soft but pointed, each one a challenge.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like I was in control. I wasn’t the one reacting, the one cowering under someone else’s power. I was the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, and it was intoxicating. I could see the conflict in Zander’s eyes, the way his anger warred with the need to maintain his composure. It felt like a victory, small but significant, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.