Back To Square One

Celeste's Pov

The room turned to ice.

I didn't breathe. I couldn't.

My eyes were locked on him—the man standing across the table, a file in one hand, the other shoved in his pocket like he was trying hard to stay composed. My pulse stopped at the sharp cut of his jawline, the way his storm-grey eyes hardened when they met mine.

Aaron Ashford.

No.

No, no, no.

"This is Miss Sinclair, our new legal advisor," Taissa was saying, completely oblivious to the nuclear tension blooming between us.

Aaron Thorne.

I'd heard that name—brief mentions of him owning one of the most powerful private security firms, mostly from Dad and Jayden when they discussed international liaisons. Thorne Security Solutions, they called it. Nobody mentioned Aaron Ashford. Nobody told me he was this man.

The man whose voice once called me selfish.

The man I left behind and then ran from.

The same man who now stood before me like fate had dragged me back into his world with a collar around my neck.

I swallowed, but the knot in my throat only grew tighter.

He didn't say a word. Didn't blink. Just looked at me like he was cataloguing every expression, every breath, every flicker of guilt I hadn't even managed to hide yet.

"Miss Sinclair?" Taissa turned slightly toward me. "Do you want to go over the confidentiality clause before we discuss the next steps?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice an unnatural pitch. I cleared my throat quickly. "Yes, of course."

I dragged my gaze away from Aaron and forced myself to flip open the file. My hands trembled the tiniest bit. He hadn't moved. Not an inch. But I could feel him—like a storm cloud just outside the window, ready to crack lightning through glass.

I don't remember what I said next. Something about liability. Insurance. Standard clauses. My voice moved on autopilot, practiced and precise, but my mind—God, my mind was somewhere else.

What was he doing here?

How was he even here?

He wasn't supposed to be in this part of the world. And I wasn't supposed to see him—not like this. Not days after I ran away again. Not after leaving a letter that bled guilt and cowardice in equal parts.

I felt his stare like it branded the skin on the side of my face. The shame curled up in my stomach, hot and rising.

I never meant to hurt anyone. And it wasn't like he cared. Ever!

I only wanted to escape.

I had overheard them. That evening. Whispered discussions behind closed doors. Uncle's voice was firm. Aaron's quieter. Casper agreeing.

Aaron has said yes. For the wedding.

I hadn't waited to ask. I hadn't confronted anyone. Just went to my room, packed a bag, and left.

Because what could I have said?

"I'd rather die than marry him," I'd told Jayden.

I didn't think Aaron heard that.

God... did he?

The meeting finally ended, and still—he said nothing.

He simply closed the file, gave Taissa a nod, and walked out.

---

I didn't last long after that.

I barely managed to make it to the end of the hallway before I slumped into the ladies' washroom and locked myself in a stall. I sat down on the closed lid, clutching my scarf to my chest like it could hold the panic in.

He was here.

He'd seen me.

Tears threatened to rise, but I blinked them back. I had no right to cry. I'd chosen this. Chosen to disappear. Chosen not to face him when he demanded answers with silence.

God, I was such a coward.

When I finally returned to my desk, Taissa stopped me. "Mr. Thorne wants to see you in his office," she said, handing me a post-it.

My fingers tightened around it before I gave her a stiff nod and turned away.

Thorne.

He really did go by that.

And yet—he never hid his face when it was time to confront me.

The door to his office loomed like a courtroom entrance. I knocked once, then stepped in.

He was standing by the window, arms folded. The city skyline sprawled behind him, but I knew he wasn't looking at it. He didn't turn immediately. The silence stretched, longer than I could bear.

"You lied," he said finally, his voice low. Controlled. Dangerous.

I straightened. "I—"

I didn't finish.

He spun fast—two strides and I was yanked by the wrist, slammed against the wall before I could even blink. His grip tightened, not enough to break—but enough to remind me exactly who he was now.

Aaron Ashford.

"You left," he snarled, his face inches from mine, breath sharp with fury. "No warning. No message. You made my entire family think something had happened to you."

My heart pounded against my ribs, but I forced my voice out. "I left a letter—"

He twisted my wrist sharply and I gasped.

"To Jayden. In secret. You thought that was enough?" His eyes burned into mine. "You think that made up for the chaos you left behind?"

"I didn't mean—"

"Bullshit!" Another twist. My teeth clenched.

"You disappeared. My dad was losing his goddamn mind trying to call you. Jayden lied to all of them just to cover for you. And you? You were what—casually moving cities, playing legal advisor for my firm like you weren't the cause of the goddamn earthquake?"

"I didn't know this was your company," I snapped.

"Does it fucking matter?" His voice lowered, more lethal than loud. "You walked out like a goddamn coward. You made my family—my family, not yours—think something terrible happened."

"I didn't ask for any of this!" I shouted, my back still crushed to the wall. "You think this is what I wanted?! I didn't even know what the hell you all were planning!"

His breath caught. His grip loosened—just barely.

"What?"

"I didn't know," I hissed. "I overheard. That was it. I wasn't told anything. No one asked me. So don't act like I made promises I didn't."

His jaw clenched. "You still ran."

"Because I was scared," I growled back.

He scoffed. "And like always, instead of talking, you disappeared."

"Because talking never fixed anything for me," I shot back. "Especially not with you."

Another silence stretched.

But there was no softness. No step backward. His hand was still tight around my wrist. His body blocked any exit.

"You're not running again," he said, voice like steel.

"I don't need your permission," I snapped.

He leaned in, eyes dark. "You're under my roof. You work for my company. You lie again, you run again—and next time, I won't be this polite."

Then he let go of my wrist like it burned him and stormed out of the office, leaving me stranded there with a head full of static and wrists stinging with the weight of every word he didn't say.