Chapter 9 Possessive Control

Aria's POV

The hall glowed like a castle, chandeliers dripping light across a sea of designer gowns and black suits. Cameras flashed at the entry; violin music floated under the talk of donors and socialites. My dress felt too tight, my smile too brittle. I wanted to escape.

"You're tense," came the low voice in my ear. "Relax."

I didn't turn. "I can't relax when you're glaring at everyone like you're planning their deaths."

"I'm protecting my investment," he whispered.

I swallowed hard. "I'm not a building you bought, no matter what that contract says."

His fingers brushed my lower back, a warning, not comfort. "Stay close."

I stepped away anyway, needing air. A man near the bar smiled at metall, friendly, with kind eyes. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere else," he said.

I laughed softly. "You're not wrong."

He offered his hand. "I'm Daniel. Board member. I used to work with your father before everything"

I stiffened. "Before everything fell apart?"

His eyes flickered with pity. "It wasn't all his fault, you know. Some of us still"

"Step away." The deep voice cut like a blade.

I spun around. He was there, eyes dark, jaw tight, every inch of him a quiet threat. "Now."

"Excuse me?" Daniel said, brows raised.

"She's not available." The words were low, cold. "Walk away."

I hissed under my breath. "Stop it. He's just talking to me."

"Talking?" He stepped closer, so close I could feel his heat. "He was looking at you like he wanted more."

"That's insane," I snapped. "You don't own me."

He leaned in, voice like a growl. "You're mine, even if you hate me for it."

People were looking now, phones lifted, whispers twisting like smoke. My cheeks burned. "Let go," I whispered.

He caught my wrist not terribly, but enough to make my pulse spike. "You don't get to make me look like a fool."

I jerked free. "You're doing that all by yourself."

Silence stretched. His eyes flashed with something anger, fear, desire before he turned to Daniel. "Leave. Now."

Daniel left, shooting me a sorry glance. The music grew again, but the room felt cooler.

I pulled him toward a quiet spot near a marble pillar. "What is wrong with you?"

His hands flexed at his sides. "He knew about your father. He was using that."

"You don't know that."

"I know men like him." His gaze swept over me. "I know the look you gave him."

"That look?" My voice cracked. "You mean the look of a woman who's suffocating?"

His face softened for a heartbeat, then hardened again. "I told myself I wouldn't care. But I do."

I stared at him, stunned. "You care?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I don't share what's mine."

"I'm not yours." The words trembled out of me. "I'm only here because of a contract."

His hand cupped my jaw suddenly, thumb brushing my lip. "Keep telling yourself that."

I knocked his hand away, chest heaving. "I hate you when you're like this."

His mouth curvednot quite a smile, not quite a snarl. "You hate me, but you still want me."

My heart beat. "Stop."

"Say you don't," he whispered. "Look at me and say you don't."

I opened my mouth but nothing came. The truth sat heavy between us.

Before I could find words, a flash went off. We both turned. A reporter stood a few feet away, camera in hand, eyes sparkling with victory.

"Big night for WestCorp's new couple," she said sweetly. "Care to comment?"

He straightened, ice sliding back over his face. "Delete it."

She only smiled and walked off. My phone buzzed in my bag. Another buzz. Another. I pulled it out with shaking fingers.

The first title started from the screen: WestCorp Heiress at Center of ScandalFather's Crimes Resurface.

Beneath it, a photo: me, tonight, locked in his grip, eyes wide, the comment already global.

My stomach dropped. "Oh my God..."

He glanced at the screen, face going pale. "Who sent that?"

"II don't know," I stammered. "It's everywhere already."

He swore under his breath, taking the phone from me, scanning the story. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

I grabbed his wrist. "You said you could protect me."

His eyes snapped to mine, something dangerous flashing there. "I can but it's going to cost you more than you think."

"What does that mean?" I whispered.

He didn't answer. He just turned, scanning the crowd, like an animal scenting a trap. "Someone wants to destroy you. And maybe me."

I felt cold all over. "Who?"

His eyes returned to mine, darker than I'd ever seen. "The question isn't who," he said softly. "It's how much they already know."

And then my phone buzzed again. A new message popped up, no sender:

You can't hide the past. Not even in his arms.

My knees went weak. He caught me before I fell. "What is it?" he asked.

I stared at the screen, lips shaking. "They know everything."

The lights blurred above me as the room spun. "How long before they destroy me?" I whispered.

His grip tightened, voice like steel. "Not before I destroy them first."

But behind his eyes, for the first time, I saw something that scared me more than his rage: doubt.