Chapter 1 His Game, My Ruin

I should've known the devil would wear black.

He stood at the threshold of my father's penthouse like a ghost risen from the dead-bigger, darker, and infinitely more dangerous than I remembered.

Ace Rivera.

The man who kissed me like he owned me at seventeen.

Then vanished before my eighteenth birthday.

No calls. No explanation. Just silence and ashes where my heart used to be.

Now he's here. Wearing a black tactical suit like he stepped off a battlefield, scar above his brow, eyes colder than the bullets probably holstered beneath his jacket.

And apparently... he's my new bodyguard.

"You're late," my father barked from the corner, swirling his whiskey. "I expected you an hour ago."

Ace's voice was rougher now, like gravel soaked in sin. "I got here when I needed to."

His eyes hadn't moved. Still on me.

Still devouring me.

Still not blinking.

I stiffened under the weight of his stare, crossing my arms like it could shield me. It didn't.

Nothing would, not from him.

Especially not when his gaze dropped to my bare legs-the silk robe I wore barely brushing mid-thigh.

He'd already stripped me with his eyes, and I hated that my body reacted.

"Aria," my father said, oblivious to the tension crackling in the room. "Meet Mr. Rivera. He'll be your full-time protection until this threat is neutralised."

Threat.

Such a sterile word for what was really happening.

My sister had been murdered.

And two weeks later, someone tried to run me off the road.

The message was clear.

One daughter down. One to go.

I nodded stiffly. "Hi."

Ace's lips curled-not a smile, something darker. Like he remembered every inch of me. Like he still owned it.

"Hello, princess."

The nickname punched me straight in the stomach.

He used to whisper it when I snuck into his bed.

Back when he was my father's young soldier-in-training and I was the brat who liked playing with fire.

"You're dismissed, Aria. I need to go over security protocol with Mr. Rivera." My father waved me away like I was twelve again.

I turned, fighting the urge to slam my heel into Ace's foot as I walked past.

But then-

"Wait."

His voice stopped me mid-step.

I looked over my shoulder.

"I'll be bunking on your floor tonight," he said smoothly. "Need to get a feel for the property layout."

My stomach twisted.

Of course he would.

It started with a knock at midnight.

I should've been asleep.

But ever since Nora died, sleep didn't come easily.

I was curled up on the couch in my robe, glass of wine half-empty, the TV playing some old film I wasn't really watching-when the knock echoed through my bedroom suite.

Not the front door.

My bedroom door.

I already knew who it was.

"Come in," I said, voice steady.

Ace opened the door like he owned the damn house, wearing a tight black t-shirt that clung to his chest and black sweatpants that should've been illegal. His hair was damp from a shower, pushed back, revealing a sharp widow's peak and that signature scar on his right brow.

Even now, he still looked like the kind of man you should never trust alone in the dark.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

"Didn't know you cared," I said, folding my legs beneath me. "Or speak in full sentences."

He didn't smile, but he walked closer. Closer than he should have.

"I care more than you think," he murmured, eyes locked on mine. "You just don't know the truth yet."

There it was. The Ace Rivera I remembered-dripping in secrets, shadows, and sex.

"What truth?" I asked softly.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek, lingered for a second too long.

My breath hitched.

"You shouldn't be here," I whispered.

He leaned down, eyes burning into mine. "You opened the door."

God help me, I had.

His mouth crashed down on mine like he'd waited years for this moment-and maybe he had. I didn't care. My fingers tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer. He growled into the kiss, lifting me off the couch effortlessly and walking us backward toward the bed.

Clothes disappeared in a fever-his shirt over his head, my robe sliding down my shoulders. His hands roamed my body like he was relearning it, memorizing it all over again.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to touch you," he growled against my neck, biting down gently.

I gasped, arching into him.

He laid me down, eyes roaming every inch of bare skin like I was something sacred.

"Still so perfect," he muttered, voice almost broken.

He didn't take me gently.

He took me like a man starving-deep, hard, relentless.

Like he needed this to survive.

Like I was the only thing that made him human.

And maybe I was.

Because when he came undone inside me, whispering my name like a prayer, I realized something terrifying.

I still loved him.

Even after all this time.

Even after the pain.

Even after the silence.

But I also knew something else-

Ace Rivera never did anything without a reason.

He lay beside me after, propped up on one elbow, watching me with eyes that stripped me bare all over again.

"You shouldn't trust me," he said suddenly.

I blinked, turning my head. "What?"

"I'm here to protect you, Aria," he said softly. "But that doesn't mean I won't break you."

The words sliced through the afterglow like glass.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed me again-this time slower, deeper. Like it was goodbye.

Then he pulled away, stood, and picked up his shirt from the floor.

"Ace," I called, suddenly cold. "What are you not telling me?"

He paused at the door, back turned.

Then he said something that made my blood freeze.

"Your sister wasn't the only one with secrets."

And just like that... he was gone.