The Hockey Roommate's Filthy Desire novel Chapter 82

Chapter 82

Chapter 82

ARIA’S POV

68 voucher

After Brandon left the dining area that night, his words lingered in the air long after his footsteps faded.

Get used to being taken care of.

I sat there for a while, staring down at my untouched plate, my thoughts tangled in a web I couldn’t quite unravel. Nothing about this situation felt normal. Nothing about him felt simple.

He was helping me, yes. Protecting me, even. But there was something else beneath it. Something unspoken. Something deliberate.

And I didn’t like not understanding it. Still, I needed money. That much was clear.

If I wanted to leave his penthouse eventually, if I wanted to build something of my own again for myself and for my child, then I couldn’t afford to reject the opportunity he had just handed me.

Even if it came wrapped in control. Even if it came with questions I didn’t have answers to.

The next morning, I got ready earlier than necessary.

It felt strange putting on something formal again, strange stepping into a version of myself that wasn’t broken, wasn’t running, wasn’t hiding.

But I did it anyway. Because I refused to remain stuck. Brandon was already waiting when I stepped into the living area. As always, he looked flawless.

Perfect suit. Impeccable posture. Not a single strand of hair out of place. His eyes flicked toward me briefly, scanning, assessing.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes.”And just like that, we left. His company was just as intimidating as everything else in his world.

Tall glass walls, polished floors, quiet efficiency. People moved with purpose, their steps quick, their voices low.

And the moment I walked in beside him, I felt it.

The stares. The curiosity. But unlike before, there were no whispers loud enough for me to hear. No open judgment.

Because I wasn’t alone. I was standing next to him. And that alone seemed to change everything.

My “job” started and ended with nothing.

That was the problem.

12:19 Thu, May 14 N

Chapter 82

35 toucher

I sat in his office for hours, watching him work. Watching him move through documents, meetings, calls, calls, everything executed with sharp precision.

Meanwhile, I did absolutely nothing. No tasks. No instructions. No responsibilities. I was just sitting down.

At first, I told myself to be patient. Then an hour passed. Then two. Then three. By the fourth hour, I was convinced I was going to lose my mind.

This wasn’t a job. This was babysitting. No, worse.

This was decoration. By midday, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping slightly against the floor. Brandon didn’t look up immediately.

“I need to ask you something.” I said.

“Go ahead.”

I walked closer, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “What exactly am I doing here?”

That got his attention. He looked up at me calmly. “You’re working.”

“No, I’m not,” I said immediately. “I’ve been sitting there doing nothing for hours.”

“You’re observing.”

“I didn’t sign up to observe,” I snapped. “I signed up to work.”

His gaze sharpened slightly, but his expression remained composed. “You’re being paid.”

“That’s not the point,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to be paid for doing nothing.”

Silence stretched between us. Then I added, quieter but firmer, “I don’t want pity.” That seemed to land. “I don’t want to be spoon-fed either,” I continued. “I want to earn what I get. I want to feel like I deserve it.”

For a moment, he just watched me. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t mocking. But it was enough to catch me completely off guard.

“You want work?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He reached for a stack of files on his desk and handed them to me. “Sort these.”

Relief washed through me instantly. Finally, I had something to do. “Thank you,” I said quickly, taking them and heading back to my seat.

Ten minutes later, I realized something was wrong.

Very wrong. I flipped through the files again. Then again. Then a third time.

12:20 Thu, May 14 N

Chapter 82

vouchers

They were already sorted. Perfectly. Alphabetically. Chronologically. Categorically. There was nothing to fix. Nothing to arrange. Nothing to do.

I stared at the papers like they had personally offended me. My eye twitched slightly.Was this a joke? I looked up at him slowly.

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