The Hockey Roommate's Filthy Desire novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69

Chapter 69

JULIAN’S POV

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I left the manor in a rage. Not the loud kind, not the kind that made people scream or throw things.

No. This rage was colder and it ran deeper. It was the kind of anger that sat in your chest and burned slowly until it consumed everything around it.

The image wouldn’t leave my head. Aria, standing there and Luca’s lips on hers. Her frozen face.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel as I drove, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

I should have dragged him off her. I should have broken his fucking jaw.

I should have taught him what happened when someone touched what was mine.

But I didn’t. And somehow, that restraint pissed me off even more.

By the time I got home, I was halfway to grabbing my keys again and driving straight to Luca’s place. I was already at the door when Blake walked in.

“One look at your face and I know someone’s dying tonight,” he muttered.

I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him or anyone at all, so I just said one word. “Move.”

He frowned. “Where are you going?”

“To handle something.” I said, not bothering to explain myself.

His

eyes narrowed. “Julian-”

“He kissed her,” I snapped. Blake stilled. My chest heaved. “He put his fucking hands on her and kissed her right in front of me.”

Blake’s jaw tightened. “So your solution is murder?”

“My solution,” I said darkly, “is to remind him exactly who he’s dealing with.”

Blake stepped fully into my path. “No. You’re too angry. You can’t go.”

I looked like I was ready to kill Blake at that moment. “Move.”

“No,” he repeated firmly. “Because if you go over there in this state, you’re going to do something stupid.”

I scoffed at his words. “He deserves it.”

“And prison deserves you after?” Blake shot back. I glared at him. He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Jesus, man. Think.”

12:15 Thu, May 14 N

Chapter 69

“I am thinking.”

“No,” he said sharply. “You’re emotional.”

I clenched my fists. Blake watched me carefully before changing tactics.

“What about the project?” That made me pause. My jaw tightened again. The project.

The one I’d spent months keeping from Aria.

The one involving her father. Blake crossed his arms. “Were you ever going to tell her?”

I laughed bitterly. “I was.” His brows rose.

“I had plans to,” I muttered. “Before all this.”

Before she humiliated me. Before she let another man touch her.

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Before she made me feel like a fucking fool. But now? My expression hardened. “She doesn’t deserve to know anymore.”

Blake stared at me. “Julian be reasonable―”

“She made her choice.” I said and he kept quiet. The room went perfectly still. Blake looked like he wanted to argue. But eventually, he just sighed.

“Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” I didn’t answer. Because if he left me alone long enough, I just might.

Later that night, I stood in the apartment. The one Aria and I shared. Or used to. The silence in the place was unbearable.

Everywhere I looked, I saw her. Her shoes were near the door. Her mug in the kitchen. Her perfume still lingering faintly in the bedroom.

It was driving me insane. I walked into her room. It was empty, cold and untouched. And suddenly anger flared again.

She really left. Just like that. She didn’t fight for me, didn’t beg. She didn’t even try. She packed her shit and walked away like what we had meant nothing.

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Unbelievable.” I turned sharply and grabbed my phone. I wasn’t staying here

anymore.

This apartment had only existed because of her. Because I wanted to be close to her.

Because I wanted something smaller and warmer.

Something that felt less lonely than my penthouse. But if she was gone? Then there was no point. I texted my assistant immediately.

Have my penthouse prepared. I’m moving back tomorrow.

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Chapter 69

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I looked around one last time. Then muttered under my breath, “Fuck this place.” The next morning, movers packed everything.

I didn’t take much. Just my essentials. I left behind most of the furniture. Didn’t care enough to bring it.

By evening, I stood in my penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Luxury furniture. Cold marble floors. A skyline view worth millions.

Everything was pristine and oerfect. And yet, it felt empty. Too empty. I poured myself a drink and stared out

the window.

Why hadn’t she called? Why hadn’t she texted? Why hadn’t she shown up crying and apologizing?

If she loved me, if any of it was real, shouldn’t she have fought harder? Unless…a bitter thought crept into my head.

Unless she didn’t care. Unless my mother was right. I scoffed. No. But the thought stayed anyway.

Was she with me because of what I gave her?

Because of the apartment? The gifts? The lifestyle? Was I just convenient?

My grip tightened around my glass. No. No, that couldn’t be it. Could it? She never asked for money. Never demanded anything.

But maybe that was her game. Maybe she was smarter than most. Maybe she knew exactly how to play innocent.

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