Sweet Hatred-Chapter 246: Golden Retriever

"Have you heard from Olivia?" I asked.

Sarah sobered instantly. "No. Not since the last time."

I nodded slowly. "I think I’ll go back to the shelter tomorrow. Maybe she’s been there. I need to know how she’s coping."

Sarah squeezed my hand. "Don’t worry Aria, I’m she’ll come back to you."

I wanted to believe her.

But believing hurt.

The Next Day

The elevator doors slid open, and I barely took a step out before I heard her.

"Miss Aria. Welcome back. I have this morning’s full calendar lined up for you."

Rose.

Kael’s secretary-slash-serene chaos machine.

"Hello to you too, Rose," I said with a tired smile.

She handed me a neat stack of folders. "Mr. Roman will be out of the country until Thursday, but the board is requesting updates on the Atlantic merger, and there are three press releases pending your review by noon."

"Welp," I muttered. "It’s back to real life."

"Oh—and," she added, pausing as I reached the door to my office. "You have a visitor waiting inside. He’s been very patient."

I frowned. "A what?"

Rose only gave her usual polite nod. "A guest. He insisted."

My heart dipped. My fingers tightened on the handle.

Who the hell...?

I opened the door.

And paused.

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

Because of course it was him.

Sylas.

Leaning back casually in the chair across from my desk like he owned the damn building. Legs spread, arms draped over the sides, that infamous smirk cocked just slightly to the right.

Wearing black leather pants, a fitted matching Jacket and the kind of confidence that should’ve been illegal before 10 a.m.

"What the hell—" I started.

He raised a hand, palm out. "No need for theatrics, sad girl. I’m just here to grace you with my radiant presence."

My mouth dropped. "Are you... serious?"

"Deadly," he said, then added with a wink, "Though you already knew that."

I dropped into my seat with a sigh. "You’re actually delusional."

"Been called worse," he said, utterly unbothered. "But I do miss the way you say it. All breathy and annoyed."

"You need help."

"I need you to stop ghosting me," he said, sliding forward in the chair. "Since the moment you were taken hostage on Kael’s love island, you’ve been MIA. I had to come make sure you didn’t drown in all that possessive billionaire dick."

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Is it too early in the day for this?"

He grinned wider. "Never."

I pointed toward the door. "As much as I’d love to entertain your chaotic little break-in, I’m swamped, sweetheart. Go flirt with someone else."

"Sweetheart," he echoed, his voice low and playful. "So that’s what we’re calling me now?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I’m this close to throwing a stapler at you."

Instead of flinching, he stood.

And then everything shifted.

He moved around my desk slowly, deliberately, until he was standing over me. Close enough that I had to tilt my chin to meet his gaze.

Close enough to smell the warm cologne clinging to his skin.

"Well," he murmured, eyes dragging over my body like a sin he was about to commit. "Look at you. All buttoned up. Professional. Dangerous."

"Don’t," I warned, already hating how my breath caught.

His voice dropped. "You know Kael has that lethal thing going for him, yeah? But you, you make power look sexy."

I swallowed hard and cocked an unimpressed brow at his statement. Really?

He leaned in just a little. Enough for his words to brush against my mouth like they weren’t just words.

"I could watch you run this floor all day," he whispered. "But watching you fall apart? Now that’s the real show."

My legs tensed.

I gripped the edge of my desk.

And I hated—hated—the flutter behind my ribs.

"Back up," I said trying to regain my composure. "You’re not cute," I muttered.

"I’m gorgeous," he corrected.

"Back up," I warned.

He did. Eventually. Slowly. Grinning like he’d won something.

But the look in his eyes didn’t waver, it lingered, hungry and amused, like I was the punchline to a joke he hadn’t told yet.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, for all your theatrics, you’re just kind of... cute."

He blinked. "Cute?"

"Yeah. Like a golden retriever that thinks it’s a wolf."

"Ouch," he muttered, placing a hand to his chest. "You wound me, Aria."

"You’ll live."

He leaned against the edge of my desk, like he belonged there. Like he didn’t just get verbally benched.

"I can’t tell if you actually hate me," he said, "or if this is your version of flirting."

"I don’t flirt with boys who prance around the city bothering women just because they’re bored," I said, settling in my seat again and opening a folder. "Doesn’t your sister do all the heavy lifting in your family?"

He shrugged lazily. "Ash likes to work. She’s good at it."

"And you like to loiter?"

"Better than being stressed and miserable," he said, flashing teeth. "Besides, I am looking for something meaningful to do with my time."

I didn’t look up. "By disturbing me?"

"With you, specifically, yes."

I groaned, slapping the folder shut and pinning him with a look. "What do you want, Sylas?"

He smiled like he’d been waiting for that question all day.

"A date."

I laughed. "Not happening."

"Not a date date," he amended, grinning wider. "Just... a hangout. In the city. You and me. Let me show you I’m more than a pretty face."

"Oh my God."

"I’ll even wear a shirt that says ’Property of Kael Roman’ if that helps you relax."

"You’re insufferable."

"But persistent," he added proudly.

"I’m busy."

"I’ll wait."

And just like that, he slid back into the same damn chair he’d been lounging in before. Legs wide. Arms out. Like this was his new office.

I stared at him. Long. Hard.

He met my gaze with a wink.

And I thought, not for the first time:

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

....

Sylas didn’t leave.

I tried everything, short of physically dragging him out by the collar, but he stayed. Camped out in the chair across from me like it was his throne and I was his reluctant court jester.

Eventually, I stopped fighting him.

I buried myself in work.

And he...? He made himself comfortable. Scrolled on his phone. Chimed in with unhelpful comments. Tossed a crumpled sticky note into my trash can like it was a game-winning shot and raised both hands like a victory parade.

It was annoying. It was cute.

And, somehow, weirdly comforting.

By the time the clock hit a cruel, post-lunch slump, I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

"I need coffee," I muttered.

Sylas perked up like a golden retriever. "Say less."

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