The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 95

Chapter 95: Chapter 95:

Aria pov

He pulled back suddenly, and the loss of his warmth made me whimper. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire, chest heaving. "Go to bed, Aria." His voice was strained, rough.

I blinked, confused, my body still thrumming with need. "What?"

"Go." He stepped back, putting distance between us. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the tendons in his arms standing out with the effort of restraint. "Before I forget I’m trying to be a gentleman."

The words hit me like cold water. "Are you serious right now?"

"Go to bed." He wouldn’t look at me, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.

Confusion gave way to anger—hot and sharp. "You" I struggled to find words through the haze of rejected desire and humiliation. "You call me home, you beg me to come back, you put your hands all over me, and now you’re sending me away?"

"Aria"

"Did you ask me to come home just to seduce me?" My voice rose, shaking with fury and something that felt dangerously close to tears. "Because for someone who was begging me on the phone, you’re awfully smug now. Was this some kind of game? Some test to see if you still could?"

"That’s not" He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away.

"Don’t touch me." I was shaking now, from anger or arousal or both. "You don’t get to work me up like that and then dismiss me like I’m nothing, not again."

"I’m trying to do the right thing"

"The right thing?" I laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. "The right thing would have been not starting something you had no intention of finishing. The right thing would have been keeping your hands to yourself if you were just going to push me away."

"I’m trying to respect you"

"Respect me?" My voice cracked. "You’re playing with me. Making me feel like I’m the one who can’t control myself while you stand there so fucking noble." Tears of frustration burned in my eyes. "I hate you, I hate that you can still do this to me."

I turned and stormed toward my bedroom, my heels clicking sharply on the floor.

"Aria, wait"

"Go to hell, Damien."

I reached my door and yanked it open, then turned back. He was standing there, frozen, looking devastated. Good. Let him feel a fraction of what I felt.

"Next time you want to play the gentleman," I said, my voice cold despite the tears threatening to fall, "try it before you get your hands on me. Or better yet, don’t call me home at all."

I slammed the door in his face with enough force to rattle the frame. The sound echoed through the penthouse like a gunshot.

On the other side, I heard him say my name once more—quiet, broken but I didn’t answer.

I pressed my back against the door and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, my dress pooled around me, my whole body still trembling. My lips felt swollen from his kisses. My neck probably had marks from his mouth. My skin was on fire everywhere he’d touched me.

And I hated him for it.bHated him for making me want him. For making me feel. For proving that despite everything—the betrayal, the years, the walls I’d built—he could still unravel me with a touch.

But most of all, I hated that even now, even furious and humiliated, a traitorous part of me wanted to open that door and go back to him. I wrapped my arms around my knees and let the tears come, silent and burning.

Outside my door, I heard footsteps—pacing back and forth. Then a soft thud, like he’d hit or leaned against the wall. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"I’m sorry," came his muffled voice through the door. "I’m so fucking sorry. I just—I didn’t want you to regret it in the morning. Didn’t want you to hate me more because I took advantage when you weren’t ready."

I didn’t answer.

"I know I handled that wrong," he continued, voice raw. "I always handle everything wrong with you. But Aria, I swear to you—I didn’t call you home to play games. I called you because I was losing my mind. And when I touched you, when you let me, I wanted—fuck, I wanted everything. But you deserve better than me taking what I want before you’re."

More silence. Then, quieter: "I love you. Even if you hate me. Even if you slam every door in my face for the rest of my life, I love you."

I heard his footsteps retreat, then the click of his bedroom door closing. I sat there on the floor of my room, tears streaming down my face, my body still aching with need, my heart a twisted mess of anger and longing and love I didn’t want to feel.

*********

I woke to the sound of voices in the kitchen. Damien’s low rumble, Noah’s excited chatter, and the clink of dishes. For a moment, I just lay there, listening to them—this domestic symphony that shouldn’t feel so right but did.

Then I remembered last night. His hands on me, his mouth on my neck. The way he’d worked me up until I was moaning and desperate—and then just stopped and sent me away like I was nothing.

The humiliation burned fresh, and with it came anger. I grabbed my phone it was 6:47 AM. Twenty-three texts from last night, all from Damien. I scrolled through them, my jaw clenching.

I’m sorry. I handled that wrong. Please don’t hate me, I was trying to do the right thing. Goodnight, beautiful. I’m still here if you need me.

I wanted to throw the phone across the room but Instead, I climbed out of bed, pulling on my robe, and padded to the kitchen. If he thought some pathetic texts would make up for playing games with me, he had another thing coming.

The scene that greeted me stopped me in my tracks. There was flour everywhere. Ground meat on the counter, dough in various stages of disaster. Noah standing on a chair, hands covered in what looked like samosa filling.

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