The Wishes We Keep

I'd been at Cayden's side since I was eighteen. He'd plucked me from a pile of corpses, once declaring me his sharpest, most reliable blade. I'd done his dirty work, even serving time in prison for him.

"Aubrey," he'd promised, "when you get out, we'll marry."

But on the day of my release, he was nowhere to be found. I later learned he'd married the daughter of a wealthy family—someone of his own standing. Cayden insisted it was just for show, that I was the one he truly loved. But I knew he was lying.

I'd overheard him telling his subordinates, "Aubrey can't be allowed to live. Find a way to get rid of her."

He wouldn't have to dirty his own hands; he'd saved my life once, taking it back would be nothing. So why, when I was on the brink of death, did he suddenly refuse to let me go? Everything had gone exactly as he planned, hadn't it?

Six years had passed since my sentencing. The warden gave me a polite nod as I stepped out. I returned it with a faint smile and walked slowly into the morning light. The world stretched before me, vast and unfamiliar.

I stood there, leather jacket clinging to my frame, the jeans I wore a relic of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. A cold wind swept past and I pulled the jacket tighter around me, staring at the empty road ahead.

No one was waiting for me.

I pulled out my old phone, its screen scratched and smudged from years of use. Only one contact was saved on it: "Mr. Cooper." His name felt like a ghost in my hand. I dialed, but after a few rings, the call diverted.

I tucked the phone back into my pocket and wandered to a small eatery nearby. The place was humble, its faded sign swaying slightly in the wind. Inside, the smell of frying oil and coffee greeted me, mingling with the faint chatter of patrons. I ordered a sandwich and sat by the window, watching the world move on without me.

As I took a bite of the sandwich, the roar of a motorcycle engine caught my attention. Dennis arrived moments later, skidding to a halt on a sleek sportbike that gleamed under the sun. His helmet tucked under his arm, he scanned the eatery with a troubled expression.

"Dennis," I called, raising a hand. His gaze snapped to me and his face lit up with a grin that made him look like a boy again.

"Big sis!" he exclaimed, hurrying over.

He dropped into the seat across from me, the chair scraping noisily against the floor. Dennis had grown since I'd last seen him—no longer the scrawny, wideeyed kid I'd picked up years ago. His shoulders were broader, his features sharper, but there was still a youthful eagerness in the way he grinned.

"Nice bike," I said, nodding toward the machine parked outside. "Isn't that the new model this year?"

He laughed, his pride impossible to hide. "You've still got an eye for these things. Yeah, it's the latest."

I smiled faintly, the memory of my own love for motorcycles flickering to life. Back then, Cayden had always ensured I had the best—one of the few indulgences he allowed me.

Dennis hesitated, the smile slipping from his face for a fraction of a second. "Aubrey," he said carefully, "have you eaten enough? Let me take you home. Mr. Cooper's arranged everything for you. You'll love the house, I promise."

I paused, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest. "Where is he?"

Dennis hesitated, his eyes flicking away for a brief moment. "You know how it is—busy with work."

I stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest. Of course, Cayden was busy. Business always came first—before me, before anything. That was something I had learned a long time ago.

The villa he brought me to was stunning, a vision of modern luxury. Steel gates opened to reveal a sprawling property surrounded by manicured gardens. The house itself gleamed in the afternoon sun, its glass walls and sharp angles standing in stark contrast to the warmth I had longed for.

Inside, the air was cool and sterile, every surface immaculate. Dennis watched me carefully as I wandered through the space, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"This is his token of gratitude," he said finally. "For everything you've done for him."

A token of gratitude. The words struck like a cold wind.

I walked into the bedroom, where a pair of teddy bears sat on the bed—one in a suit, the other in a wedding dress. I picked up the bear in the suit, its soft nose squishing under my finger.

It looked like him. Cayden.

Suddenly, the need to see him clawed at my chest. Six years had passed, but his shadow still lingered in my mind. How had he been?

Dennis' confident demeanor faltered the moment his gaze landed on the teddy bear in my hands. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was rushed and uneven, like a man caught off guard.

"Big sis, uh, that sandwich was probably not enough, right? How about I take you out for a nice meal? The boys are all waiting to see you."

I slowly set the bear back on the bed, my fingers brushing over its soft fur. The weight in Dennis' tone didn't match his words and it made my chest tighten with unease.

"Dennis," I said, turning to face him, "I want to see Mr. Cooper first. Is he at the office?"

Dennis hesitated. "He is, but..."

"But what?" I couldn't understand why Dennis kept trying to stop me from meeting Cayden. His unusual behavior made me inexplicably uneasy.

"Did something happen to him?"

"Nah, not at all!" Dennis waved his hands as if to physically push away the suggestion. "The books are clean. The streets are behind us. Me and the boys are playing a different game now."

I frowned, unsatisfied with his answer. "Then why won't you let me see him?"

Dennis hesitated again, his usually open expression clouded with unease. Seeing my determination, he finally sighed, his shoulders slumping. "He'll come to find you, Aubrey. He just... said he couldn't see you today."

"Why?" I demanded, my voice low.

Dennis didn't answer. He simply looked away, avoiding my gaze like a man who had been sworn to silence.

The world outside had changed so much in six years that I felt like a dinosaur in a digital world. The villa was equipped with the latest technology, including computers and phones more advanced than anything I'd seen before.

I sat at the sleek glass desk in the study, running my fingers over the smooth keys of a stateoftheart laptop. It took me a while to get the hang of it, but once I did, my curiosity led me to type a name I hadn't dared search for until now: Cayden Cooper.

The results appeared in a flash and I felt the floor tilt beneath me. Article after article chronicled his meteoric rise to success, the empire he had built and his impeccable public image as a respected entrepreneur.

And then I saw it.

[Family status: Married.]

My heart stuttered as I stared at the word. It couldn't be real. How could Cayden be married? He had promised me—promised that when I got out of prison, we would be together.

Trembling, I clicked on the links. Video interviews, news clips and even the footage of his wedding played on the screen. My hands were cold as ice as I watched the hourlong wedding video, again and again, trying to make sense of it.

The bride was stunning. She had the grace and poise of someone raised in wealth and privilege—a perfect match for Cayden. As they stood together, exchanging vows, they looked like a pictureperfect couple.

I froze the video on her face, my chest tightening as a nagging sense of familiarity crept in. I knew her. My hands moved on their own, typing another name into the search bar: [Nathan Grant.]

It didn't take long to confirm my suspicions. The woman Cayden had married was Nathan's daughter—the very same Nathan who'd played a part in sending me to prison.

My stomach twisted painfully. My breathing became shallow, the walls of the room closing in on me.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Cayden's number with shaking hands. This time, the call connected.

"Hello?"

Six years hadn't dulled the familiarity of his voice. It cut through me like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

I struggled to keep my voice steady, but emotion clogged my throat. For a moment, I stayed silent. On the other end, he said nothing either, as if waiting.

"Is this... Aubrey?" he finally asked, his tone cautious.

"You got married to Nathan's daughter?" The words spilled out, bitter and cold.

Silence. My grip tightened on the phone. I could hear faint laughter in the background—cheerful voices and the sound of someone calling Cayden's name. It was a woman's voice.

Then, the sound of a door closing, followed by the faint howl of the wind. He must have stepped outside.

"Aubrey," he said, his voice soft, almost pleading, "I've been so busy these days. Will you give me a chance to explain?"

He didn't deny it. The truth hung between us, heavy and suffocating.

My throat tightened as I ended the call without another word.

I walked back to the bedroom, my chest tight with a mix of anger and sorrow. The villa, with its pristine luxury, suddenly felt suffocating. I pushed open the window, letting the cool evening air wash over me, but it didn't help.

My eyes drifted to the bed, where the pair of teddy bears sat side by side. One in a suit, the other in a wedding dress.

Was this house their honeymoon villa?

A wave of nausea rolled through me and I turned away. Grabbing my belongings, I moved into one of the guest rooms. The master bedroom no longer felt like mine—or maybe it had never been mine to begin with.

I sat on the edge of the guest bed, staring at the blank wall. The question I couldn't shake lingered in my mind: Had I been a fool to ever trust him?

The next morning, Cayden arrived. He stood at the entrance of the villa, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame. He hadn't changed much from six years ago—still as handsome as ever. But there was something new about him, an air of maturity and control that hadn't been there before. His presence now felt heavier, more commanding.

I caught sight of him through the window before he stepped inside. He paused at the doorway, his hand lingering on the polished brass handle for just a second longer than necessary. For a man who had always carried himself with such confidence, that brief hesitation felt... off.

When our eyes met, his steps noticeably faltered. Gone was the easy grin he used to flash me whenever we met. Instead, his face held an unusually cautious expression. The man who once ran toward me with open arms now approached me as if walking on glass.

Was my presence making things difficult for him?

I gritted my teeth, suppressing the sting in my chest. I reminded myself not to fall back into old habits, the ones that made me place his feelings above my own.

Cayden stopped a few steps away, close enough for me to catch the faint, familiar scent of tobacco and cologne clinging to him.

He raised his hand slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His touch was light, almost hesitant. A shadow of regret flickered across his face. "You cut your hair so short. What a shame."

The comment stung more than it should have. Did he expect me to stay exactly the same after six years in prison? I shifted slightly, avoiding his hand and forced my voice to remain calm.

"Hair grows back. It's no big deal."

Cayden nodded, though his expression tightened ever so slightly. "True. But you looked better with long hair. You should grow it out again."

I crossed my arms, the corners of my mouth lifting in a dry smile. "No. I'm used to short hair now. It's more convenient."

His lips thinned and for a moment, the Cayden I remembered peeked through—someone unaccustomed to being contradicted. His tone turned curt. "Suit yourself."

Without another word, he walked past me and into the living room. His movements were confident, almost too casual, as if he had walked these halls a hundred times before. The way he glanced at the furniture and decor made it clear: this house wasn't just a gift for me.

"Why did you call me yesterday?" he asked, lowering himself onto the sofa with the ease of someone settling into familiar territory. He rested one arm on the backrest, his piercing gaze flicking to me briefly before focusing on the room around us.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching him, the question hanging between us. Instead of answering, I countered, "When can I return to work?"

Cayden tilted his head, as if caught off guard by my directness. He seemed to think for a moment, but I knew better. Cayden was never indecisive. He had already made up his mind; this was all for show.

"Stay by my side," he said finally, his tone firm. "You're the person I trust most. You can help me handle important matters."

I looked down, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. Memories of the past crashed over me—the chaos, the victories, the betrayals.

The year Nathan and Cayden clashed headon was the most chaotic period of our lives.

Nathan was a titan in the business world, untouchable in reputation and wealth. When Cayden first challenged him, Nathan barely acknowledged his existence. But we made sure he noticed us. Using connections from both sides of the law, Cayden and I dismantled Nathan's empire piece by piece. Factories, shipping lines, even his loyal allies—we took them all.

At the height of our success, we celebrated like kings. But it didn't last. Nathan struck back and this time, he had an ace up his sleeve—a traitor within our ranks. The evidence Nathan gathered was enough to put Cayden behind bars.

I'll never forget the look on Cayden's face when he first saw the reports. He paced his office like a caged animal, his usually steady hands trembling as he clutched the papers.

"Aubrey, what should I do?" he said, his voice breaking. "I can't accept this. I just can't!"

I watched as the man I thought was unshakable crumbled before my eyes. He grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip almost bruising. "This company is the result of more than a decade of our hard work!" His voice cracked and to my shock, tears streamed down his face.

I hesitated, my instincts warring with my heart. Then, slowly, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "We'll figure this out," I murmured, though deep down, I already knew the answer. There was only one way to save him and Cayden knew it too.

Three months later, I stood in court and took the fall for everything. The gavel came down and my world changed forever.

The first time Cayden visited me in prison, he sat across from me, his expression filled with guilt.

"Aubrey, the company is nothing like before now. I'm working hard to make it clean, so you won't have to worry about anything when you get out." His words were full of hope, as if he truly believed in the future he was building for us.

But the visits became less frequent as the years passed.

When he saw the bruises on my face from a fight in the yard, he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Aubrey, you've suffered so much because of me. I've made arrangements. This won't be a problem much longer."

Yet, despite his promises, his presence began to fade.

I still remember the last time I saw him through the glass partition in the visitation room. I had dressed neatly that day, my hair tied back, my uniform spotless. Cayden's expression was unusually stern.

"Aubrey," he said, his voice low but steady, "let's get married when you're out."

My heart swelled with a bittersweet ache. I nodded, holding onto his words like a lifeline.

But after that day, he never came again. His letters became shorter, his promises fewer.

Somewhere deep down, I had known all along. We were never meant to be.

I was nothing more than a sharp blade in his hand, a tool he wielded with precision and ease. Once, in our younger days, we had been like wounded cubs licking each other's wound, drawing strength from shared pain. But that was all.

When he proposed to me all those years ago, I hadn't expected it. I had been too overwhelmed by joy to think it through, too eager to believe in a promise that was likely made out of guilt rather than love. Looking back now, I see it for what it was—an illusion I should never have clung to.

The company cleaned up its image and he no longer needed me. To Cayden, I had lost my value.

I studied the nowmature and composed man sitting across from me. He seemed so untouchable, every movement measured, every expression controlled. Pulling out the small box I had prepared, I placed it on the coffee table between us, the sound of its gentle thud breaking the silence.

"I wasn't able to attend your wedding," I said, keeping my tone as steady as I could. "So, here's a belated gift. Don't worry, it's money I earned through honest work. It's mine."

Cayden's brow furrowed, his gaze shifting between me and the neatly wrapped gift. For a moment, I thought he might actually accept it. But then he let out a disbelieving laugh, the sound sharp and cutting.

"Are you joking with me, Aubrey? What's the meaning of this? Are you jealous?"

His incredulity, the sharpness in his tone, shattered the fragile selfrespect I had clung to. He looked at me as if I were a fool.

I swallowed the dryness in my throat, willing my voice not to waver. "Since you won't take it, forget it." I reached for the box, intending to take it back.

But Cayden wasn't ready to let it go. He shot to his feet and gripped my shoulders. "What do you mean by this? Are you blaming me? Blaming me for not marrying you?"

The intensity in his voice was enough to send a surge of panic through me. I instinctively glanced toward the doorway, where a few of the boys stood, pretending not to listen but clearly eavesdropping.

I shook off his hands, taking a step back to put distance between us. Forcing calm into my voice, I replied, "How could I blame you, Mr. Cooper? It's not my place to judge your choices."

He studied me, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Whenever Cayden was in a foul mood, his brows would arch and then knit together in a subtle frown—a tell he never managed to hide.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice cool and clipped. "If that's the case, report to the office tomorrow. You'll be my assistant."

I froze, the weight of his words sinking in. Assistant?

As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway and added with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes, "Oh and your duties will include delivering documents and accompanying my wife on shopping trips."

The air left my lungs as if I had been punched. But I refused to let him see the pain he had caused. I stood there in silence as he walked away, each step echoing like a nail in the coffin of whatever we once had.

After he left, I rubbed my face vigorously with both hands, trying to shake off the stiffness that had settled over me from holding back my emotions. The ache in my chest was suffocating, but I wouldn't cry. Not for him.

The next day, I met Catherine.

It was by the lake, a picturesque spot with clear water that reflected the azure sky and lush green trees surrounding it. Cayden had brought her here for a leisurely outing, while I had been tasked with ensuring her safety as her bodyguard.

Catherine was everything I wasn't—elegant, poised and radiating the confidence of someone who had always lived a life of privilege. Her dress, an expensive designer piece, swayed gracefully in the breeze as she walked. Cayden stayed close to her, his gaze soft and attentive, the way it used to be when he looked at me.

I kept my distance, watching them from the shadows like an outsider. But then, out of nowhere, Catherine let out a startled cry and stumbled. Her arms flailed as she tumbled into the lake, the pristine water rippling violently around her.

"Help! Somebody, help me!" she shrieked, her voice laced with panic.

Instinct overrode my hesitation and I dove in without a second thought. The icy water soaked through my thin clothes instantly, chilling me to the bone. Fighting against the resistance of the water, I reached her in a few powerful strokes and pulled her to the surface.

Catherine clung to me, coughing and gasping, but the moment we reached the shore, her demeanor shifted. She pulled away from me and collapsed dramatically onto the grass, her sobs exaggerated as if she were performing for an audience.

Before I could process her act, Cayden arrived. His footsteps were rapid, his face a mix of panic and fury. He didn't even glance at me as he rushed to Catherine's side.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with concern as he knelt beside her.

"II slipped," Catherine stammered, tears streaming down her face. "Aubrey saved me, but—"

Cayden didn't let her finish. He stood and turned toward me, his expression darkening.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, his voice like a whip. Before I could respond, his hand came down hard against my cheek, the sting spreading across my skin like fire.

I staggered back, pressing a hand to my face as I stared at him in disbelief. He didn't care. His attention was already back on Catherine, his arms wrapping around her protectively as he carried her to the car.

"Take her to the hotel," he ordered one of the drivers before disappearing with Catherine.

I stood there, drenched and trembling, as the sound of the car engine faded into the distance. My phone's battery was dead. The area was so remote there were no taxis and I had no way to call for help.

An hour passed before Dennis arrived. He found me sitting on the grass, my arms wrapped around my knees in a futile attempt to keep warm. Without a word, he draped his leather jacket over my shoulders and crouched down beside me.

"Aubrey," he said softly, his voice tinged with worry. "Let's go."

I corrected him, telling him to call me "big sister." Dennis hesitated for a moment, then scowled and huffed as he escorted me to a nearby hotel.

"Big sis, I'll head out to buy you some clothes first. Take a hot shower in the meantime," Dennis said.

I nodded silently, grateful for his consideration. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly as he left the room. The moment the door clicked shut, the weight of the day settled over me. The lingering sting on my cheek reminded me of Cayden's slap, but it wasn't the worst pain I'd endured.

Dennis was quick, returning within an hour with not only new clothes but also a tube of ointment. "Your face is swollen," he said, his brow furrowed as he handed me the bag. "This should help."

I took the ointment from him, offering a small smile of thanks before retreating to the bathroom.

The shower was scalding, steam billowing around me and washing away the lake water and the chill that had seeped into my bones. As I wrapped myself in a towel and glanced at the foggedup mirror, my reflection stared back, battered but defiant.

My gaze fell to the scattered scars on my body, each one a ghost of a past injury. They mapped out the years I had spent shielding Cayden from harm, infiltrating dangerous places and putting myself in the line of fire for him.

Almost every scar bore his name in some way, except one. My fingers instinctively traced the threecentimeter line along my jaw, the only wound that predated him. A faint ache accompanied the memory, but it was dulled by the sheer weight of all the others.

I must have lost track of time because a knock came at the door, breaking through my reverie.

"Aubrey?" Dennis called, his voice tinged with concern. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"I'm fine," I replied quickly, opening the door.

The steam followed me out in a curling haze, tinting my skin a flushed pink. Dennis's eyes widened briefly before he turned his head, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He busied himself by picking up the ointment and holding it out to me.

"Here. You should apply this before it gets worse."

"Thanks, but I can do it myself," I said, taking the tube from him.

I dabbed the ointment onto my cheek with a cotton swab, hissing softly as the sting flared.

Just then, my phone buzzed on the counter. Cayden.

I hesitated before answering, sliding my finger across the screen.

"Where are you? I don't see you anywhere," he said, his voice slightly breathless, as though he'd been running. Beneath the urgency, there was a faint edge of reproach.

"Dennis brought me to a hotel," I replied evenly.

There was a pause. I imagined Cayden standing near the lake where Catherine had fallen in, his brows furrowing as they always did when something displeased him.

"Dennis? What are you doing at a hotel with Dennis?" His tone sharpened, irritation laced with something else.

The phone was on speaker. Dennis, now sitting crosslegged by the edge of the bed, perked up like a child overhearing gossip.

"Hiss—" I let out a soft gasp as the ointment stung again.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Which hotel are you at? Send me the address," Cayden demanded, his voice turning commanding.

"It's fine," I replied curtly, keeping my tone neutral. "Dennis will take me back later."

I hung up before he could respond. My reflection in the mirror stared back, pale and blotchy. The swelling on my cheek was pronounced, a vivid reminder of how little I mattered to Cayden when his temper flared.

The thought made me chuckle bitterly. When will I finally give up on him? The smallest hint of kindness and I softened again.

When I turned, I caught Dennis crouched by the bathroom door, his curly hair bobbing as he leaned closer, clearly eavesdropping.

"Dennis," I said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Instead of looking sheepish, he grinned unabashedly. "Big sis, let's grab dinner together. How about Greenmount Street?"

The mention of Greenmount Street made my eyes light up. Chinatown was there and I hadn't had braised pork rice from the small shop Cayden and I used to frequent in years.

"Sure," I said, surprising even myself with how quickly I agreed.

Dennis had brought back a dress for me—a trendy piece with a fitted bodice and a flowy skirt, the kind I rarely wore. The tag proudly declared it as part of this year's "pure seduction" collection, though wearing it made me feel exposed rather than alluring.

The scars on my arms and calves were visible against the pale fabric, their jagged lines stark under the room's fluorescent light. I'd grown used to them over the years, but I couldn't help wondering what others thought when they saw them. Would they see strength? Or would they only see the ugliness of a broken past?

I said nothing as I slipped on the dress. Dennis's eyes lingered for a moment, his expression unreadable, but he didn't comment.

We left on his sportbike, the wind cool against my face as we weaved through the streets. Sitting on the back, I lightly patted his shoulder to signal him to stop.

Dennis pulled over smoothly, removing his helmet as he turned to look at me. "What's wrong? I wasn't going too fast, was I?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"No," I said, pointing to a mall across the street. "I just... I want to change out of this dress. It doesn't suit me."

Dennis followed my gaze to the mall, then back to me. "You look fine, big sis," he said softly, his tone genuine.

I shook my head, smiling faintly. "Thanks, but I don't feel like myself in it."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Let's find you something else."

The mall buzzed with life even late into the evening, its lights casting a warm glow on the tiled floors. I quickly grabbed Dennis by the arm and led him inside, ignoring his protests.

"Slow down, will you?" he exclaimed as I dragged him toward the nearest clothing store.

I didn't answer, already browsing through racks of casual clothes. Once I'd found a comfortable set for myself—a soft knit sweater and a pair of jeans—I turned my attention to Dennis.

Before he could escape, I began piling him up with shirts, jackets and even a pair of dress shoes I thought would look good on him.

Dennis stood there, juggling an increasingly precarious tower of shopping bags, his face a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Big sis, I can't possibly wear all these clothes. This is ridiculous!"

I glanced at him, smiling faintly. Maybe this is what it felt like to raise a child. Though Dennis was no longer the adorable little boy I'd once known, I still felt a strange maternal instinct toward him. Even though he now towered over me at six feet tall, his broad shoulders and confident stride didn't erase the image of the curlyhaired kid who used to trail behind me.

As we walked out of the store, Dennis muttered under his breath, adjusting the bags in his arms. "Why didn't you like that dress? I thought it looked great on you."

I paused for a moment, then reached out to ruffle his hair, ignoring his protests. His naturally curly locks bounced back into place, much to my amusement.

"I never said I didn't like it," I replied, smirking. "In fact, it's the first thing you've shown me that felt like you were treating me with respect. I appreciate it."

Dennis rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Respect? What nonsense is that? And stop treating me like a kid!"

"Ah, yes, yes, of course," I teased, chuckling softly. "Now, how about we grab something to eat?"

"You're changing the subject again, big sis."

I only grinned, leading the way toward the mall exit.

By the time Dennis dropped me off at the villa, the night air was thick with silence. The streetlamps cast long shadows across the driveway, their glow muted by the towering trees surrounding the property. It was already past ten.

"You should stay the night," I suggested, glancing at his sportbike. "It's too late to be riding around."

Dennis opened his mouth to reply, but his expression shifted suddenly. His gaze darted past me, alert and cautious.

Frowning, I turned to see what had caught his attention.

Cayden stood in the open doorway of the villa, arms crossed, his figure framed by the golden light spilling out from inside. His expression was dark, unreadable, though a flicker of something I couldn't quite place glimmered in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised. It wasn't like him to come back this late.

"Oh?" Cayden's voice was low, almost mocking. "So, if I weren't here, were you planning to invite your boy toy to stay over?"

Boy what? I blinked, confused. What on earth was he talking about?

I glanced at Dennis, trying to figure out if this was some new slang I wasn't familiar with, but his expression had shifted into something more guarded. My instincts told me it was better to send him away.

"Dennis," I said softly, "you should head back. I'll call you later."

Dennis hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. His unhappiness was clear, but he didn't argue. Instead, he handed me the shopping bags and muttered, "Take care of yourself, Aubrey."

With one last glance at Cayden, he put on his helmet and rode off into the night.

The moment Dennis disappeared from view, Cayden strode over to me, his steps purposeful and impatient. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist tightly.

"Cayden, let go!" I hissed, wincing as his fingers dug into my skin.

He ignored my protests, dragging me into the villa. His grip was firm, almost bruising and the harder I tried to pull away, the tighter he held on.

Once inside, he released me with a shove, sending me stumbling slightly. I steadied myself, glaring at him as he loomed over me, his anger radiating in waves.

"What were you two doing at the hotel today?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

His fury was palpable. The veins on his forehead bulged and his bloodshot eyes glared at me with a heat that would have cowed anyone else.

I refused to shrink back. Straightening my posture, I crossed my arms and met his gaze headon. "Why should I explain anything to you?" I snapped. "Did you consider my feelings when you left me soaking wet and freezing in the middle of nowhere? Since you didn't, I don't owe you any answers."

The satisfaction of speaking my mind sent a small thrill through me and I couldn't resist twisting the knife further. Smirking, I added, "Cayden, are you jealous right now?"