Chapter 8 Broken and discovered

The smell of the lilies made Aysel want to scream. It was a thick, sweet scent that filled the hallway, overpowering the scent of David’s coffee. It felt like a funeral, and maybe it was. The life Aysel had fought so hard to keep was fading right in front of her.

"I hope you like them," Ruan said, his voice smooth "I remember you said they were your favorite. That night."

He didn't specify which night, he didn’t need to, the silence that followed was intense.

David was oblivious to the tension, he just stared at Ruan like a monkey looking at a treasure.

"That is so thoughtful, Mr. Sinclair!" David exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Aysel, take the flowers. Don't be rude. Mr. Sinclair went out of his way for you."

Aysel's hands shook as she reached out. Her fingers brushed Ruan’s, sending a jolt up her arm.

"Thank you once again," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze.

"You are welcome," Ruan murmured. He din't release the bouquet right away. He held it for a moment longer than needed, forcing her to step closer to take them. "They need water, Aysel, you don’t want them to die."

He said her name like he was tasting it.

"I will put them in a vase," she said, pulling the flowers away. She turned her back on him, eager to escape his warmth, and walked quickly toward the kitchen.

"I will give you a tour!" David offered behind her, excited. "We have a lovely living room, and the home office is just down the hall..."

"Actually," Ruan interrupted, his voice slicing through David’s chatter. "I would prefer to see the kitchen. The heart of the home, right? I want to see where Mrs. Vance makes her... magic."

Aysel froze in the middle of the kitchen.

She heard his heavy footsteps on the hardwood, getting closer. She moved to the sink and turned the water on full blast to drown out the sound of her racing heart. She grabbed a glass vase from the cabinet and shoved the lilies inside, jamming the stems down hard.

"Careful," a voice rumbled right behind her. "You will bruise the petals."

Aysel gasped and spun around.

Ruan stood there, so close she could see flecks of gold in his dark eyes. He had taken off his suit jacket and tossed it onto a kitchen stool. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, revealing strong, thick forearms she remembered all too well.

David was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is David?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"He got an important phone call," Ruan said, a small, dark smile on his lips. "I told him to take it. I told him I didn't mind waiting with his wife."

"You sent him away," she accused.

"I removed a distraction," Ruan corrected her. He stepped closer, trapping her against the sink. "You look pale, Aysel. Paler than yesterday."

"I am fine," she lied. She tried to move aside, but he placed a hand on the counter on either side of her hips, boxing her in. He didn’t touch her, but he surrounded her.

"You are trembling," Ruan observed softly. His eyes dropped to her hands, gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white. "Good. Now look at me."

The command was soft, but it carried a weight that forced her chin up. She met his gaze and saw the danger in his eyes, but also something else—something like hunger.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "You have the money, you have the company. Why are you tormenting me?"

Ruan leaned down,

"You think I want to ruin you?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper against her skin. "I already have, Aysel, you just haven't realized it yet."

"I am married," she said, the words feeling weak even to her own ears. "I have a husband."

"Do you?" Ruan challenged. He tilted his head toward the hallway where David was loudly talking on the phone about profit margins. "That man out there? He isn't a husband, he is a roommate who pays the bills. A real husband would notice his wife is terrified. A real husband would see that you haven't eaten much in days."

Aysel flinched, he literally noticed everything. It was terrifying how much he saw.

"I am going to cook dinner," she said, trying to change the subject and regain some control. "David said you wanted a home-cooked meal."

"I do," Ruan said, not stepping back, Instead, he reached out and picked up a knife from the counter.

"I will help," he said.

"You don't have to—"

"I insist," he said, picking up a carrot from the basket of vegetables she had left out. He started to chop it. His movements were precise.

Aysel watched his hands, they were the same hands that had held her in the hotel room.

"You are unhinged," she whispered.

Ruan stopped chopping, his eyes darkening.

"Say that again," he dared her, his voice dropping to a growl. "Slower."

Aysel swallowed hard. "You are crazy, coming here, bringing flowers, acting like this is normal."

"Normal is boring," Ruan said. He put the knife down and wiped his hands on a towel. He turned to face her fully again. "And I am not crazy, Aysel. I am just a man who doesn’t like loose ends and you... you are a very loose end."

He reached out, and this time he touched her. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. His skin was warm.

"You told me to leave you alone at the gala," he murmured. "Tell me to stay away again, I like hearing you lie."

Aysel closed her eyes at his touch. She wanted to push him away. She wanted to scream but her body betrayed her, leaning into his hand just a fraction, desperate for warmth.

"Please," she breathed. "Please stop."

"Stop what?" Ruan asked. "Stop looking at you? Stop thinking about you? I tried that for six weeks, It didn’t work."

He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers, pinning her to the sink. She felt the hard wall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart, unlike hers, which fluttered like a trapped bird.

"You are shaking," he whispered against her hair. "Is it fear, Aysel? Or is it something else?"

"It is fear," she lied.

"Liar," he breathed. "Your heart is racing. Your skin is hot. You remember, don’t you? You remember how good we were."

"It was a transaction," she cried softly. "I paid you."

Ruan laughed, a dark sound that vibrated against her chest. "Keep talking like that and I’ll kiss you right here, right in your husband’s kitchen."

"You wouldn't," she gasped.

"Try me," he warned. His eyes dropped to her lips. "I dare you. No, seriously, I dare you."

Aysel pressed her lips together, silencing herself. She knew he would do it, he didn't care about the rules and definitely didn't care about David. He was a monster who did whatever he wanted.

But as she looked up at him, she realized something that scared her more than his threats.

Everyone had warned her about men like Ruan Sinclair. But monsters didn’t always hide in the dark. Sometimes, they looked at you like you were the only thing worth saving.

"Ah, something smells good!"

David’s voice shattered the moment.

Ruan moved away slowly, stepping back from Aysel with a lazy grace, as if he had every right to be standing that close to her.

David walked into the kitchen, beaming. He was holding a bottle of wine.

"Sorry about that," David said, completely oblivious to the thick tension in the room. "Just closing a small deal. Aysel, darling, why haven't you started the roast yet? Mr. Sinclair must be starving."

"I was just helping your wife with the vegetables," Ruan said smoothly. He picked up the knife again and pointed it at the pile of chopped carrots. "She seemed overwhelmed."

David laughed. "Aysel is easily overwhelmed. She isn't used to hosting men of your caliber, Mr. Sinclair."

Ruan’s eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his voice even. "Is that so?"

"Oh yes," David said, opening the wine bottle. "She is a simple girl, she likes her quiet life. That is why we work so well, I handle the world, she handles the house."

Aysel felt a wave of shame wash over her. She grabbed a pot and started filling it with water just to have something to do with her hands.

"I am going to set the table," David said. "Aysel, hurry up with the food."

David left the room again.

Ruan watched him go and then turned back to Aysel. His expression was no longer teasing. It was hard.

"He talks about you like you are a pet," Ruan said, his voice full of disgust.

"He is my husband," Aysel said defensively, turning on the stove. "He takes care of me."

"He neglects you," Ruan corrected. "And you let him."

"I don't have a choice," she snapped.

"You always have a choice," Ruan said. He walked over to her and stood just behind her shoulder as she stirred the pot. "You chose to come to that hotel, you chose to let me touch you and still chose to leave."

"And now I am choosing to stay," she said firmly. "So please, eat your dinner and leave. And never come back."

Ruan didn't answer, he just watched her cook. He followed her every move, his eyes tracking her like a wolf tracking a rabbit.

Hours later

Dinner was torture.

They sat at the dining table, the same table where David had asked for an open marriage. Aysel sat across from Ruan. David sat at the head of the table, drinking too much wine and talking too much about himself.

Ruan ate slowly, cutting his meat with precision and barely looked at David, his eyes were fixed on Aysel.

"So, Mr. Sinclair," David said, leaning back in his chair, his face flushed with alcohol. "Now that we are partners, we should talk about the future. I have big plans for Vance Tech."

"I am sure you do," Ruan said dryly.

"But not just for the company," David continued, smiling at Aysel. "For us, too. Aysel and I have been talking."

Aysel looked up, confused. "We have?"

"About the next step," David said. He reached out and grabbed Aysel’s hand on the table. His palm was sweaty. "I think it is time we started a family. A man in my position needs an heir, don't you think, Mr. Sinclair?"

Aysel stopped breathing, the room started to spin. David wanted a baby? Now? After years of ignoring her? After demanding an open marriage?

She looked at Ruan.

Ruan had gone perfectly still. His fork hovered halfway to his mouth. He placed it down on his plate with a soft clink.

He looked at David’s hand covering Aysel’s. Then he looked at Aysel’s pale face.

The air in the room turned so cold it hurt.

"An heir," Ruan repeated. His voice was terrifyingly soft.

"Yes!" David boasted. "We have been trying for a while, actually. Haven't we, honey? I have a feeling we are going to get lucky soon."

Aysel felt bile rise in her throat, she couldn't do this. She couldn't sit here and listen to David lies while the real father of her baby sat across from her.

She pushed her chair back. "Excuse me."

She ran.

She barely made it to the hallway bathroom before she fell to her knees in front of the toilet. Her stomach emptied itself violently. She gagged and retched, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking with the force of the sickness.

She sat back on her heels, gasping for air, resting her forehead against the cool porcelain. She wiped her mouth with some toilet paper and flushed the toilet.

She needed to wash her face. She needed to calm down.

She stood up and opened the bathroom door.

Ruan was standing there.

He was blocking the doorway, filling the hallway with his towering presence.

He looked down at her. He saw her red, watery eye, he looked at her pale skin and heard the toilet flushing.

"David says you are trying for a baby," Ruan said. His voice was devoid of emotion. It was dead calm.

Aysel tried to push past him. "Let me pass."

Ruan didn't move. He grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"He thinks you are trying," Ruan said. "But you aren't trying, are you, Aysel?"

"Let me go," she sobbed, struggling against his grip.

Ruan pulled her closer until her body bumped against his. He looked down at her stomach, then back up to her eyes. The realization in his eyes was absolute.

"You aren't trying," Ruan whispered, his voice shaking with dark rage. "Because you already succeeded."

Aysel went limp in his grasp. The secret was out, the bomb had exploded.

"The paleness of your skin, your vomits, you eating ridiculously less, how your hands always instinctively covers your stomach, I see every fucking thing" Ruan half yelled

"Is it his?" Ruan demanded. He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Look me in the eyes when you lie like that. Is it David’s?"

Aysel couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe. She just shook her head, a tiny, barely visible movement.

Ruan’s eyes flared with a fire that could burn the world down. He let go of her chin and slammed his hand against the wall behind her, making her jump.

"Say it," he growled.

"No," she whimpered.

"Say it!" Ruan shouted, losing control for the first time. "Tell me who that baby belongs to."

"It's yours!" Aysel screamed, the words tearing out of her throat. "It's yours! Are you happy now?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ruan stared at her, his chest was heaving, his eyes were wide. The anger in his face slowly shifted into something else.

He reached out and placed his large hand flat over her stomach. He pressed down firmly, claiming the life inside her, claiming her.

"Mine," he whispered. It wasn't a question. It was a verdict.

He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers, his eyes burning into her soul.

"David wants an heir?" Ruan said, a dark smile spreading across his face. "Too bad. I already gave you one."

He looked toward the dining room where David was waiting, then back at Aysel.

"Pack your bags, Aysel," Ruan ordered. "You aren't sleeping in this house tonight."