Chapter 6 006
Rhea's POV
Alejandro's grip was firm on my wrist as he steered me away from the prying eyes and the chaos inside.
The cool night air hit my face, but it did nothing to steady my shaking legs.
Owen's slurred words and wandering hands still played in my mind, a nauseating loop that made my stomach churn.
If Alejandro hadn't shown up... I didn't want to think about it.
What would have happened? Would anyone else have stepped in, or would I have just been another story in the morning?
We reached his car; a matte black Cadillac Escalade-V parked haphazardly like he'd screeched to a stop without a second thought.
I tugged lightly at his hold, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Alejandro, wait," I managed to croak out, digging my heels into the asphalt. "I need to go back in. Greta... my manager, she'll fire me. I can't—I've already lost one job today."
I was hyperventilating, the reality of my crumbling life crashing down. I had no bridge left to burn.
Alejandro didn't even look back; he just kept moving.
He didn't say a word, just hit the key fob and let the car doors unlock with a loud beep.
The silence was the final straw. My adrenaline was flatlined, and a sob ripped out of my throat before I could even try to choke it back.
The tears came fast, hot, messy, and unstoppable. I didn't even have the energy to feel embarrassed that he was watching me fall apart.
Everything I'd been suppressing: the nightmare at the office, the terror of Owen's hands on me, the weight of trying to stay sane... it all just gave way.
I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window and let it pour out.
Alejandro went still, the iron-straight posture of his finally melting way. He didn't say anything at first, just stepped into my space and reached out.
His hand felt unexpectedly warm as he cupped my cheek, his thumb catching a stray tear before it could hit my chin.
"It's okay, Rhea. I've got you," he murmured. His voice had lost that strict, executive edge; it was now low and comforting.
He pulled me against him, and locked his arms around me in a way that felt solid, almost protective.
I just gave up. I shattered, burying my face in the fabric of his shirt and breathing him in.
For a second, the cold, arrogant CEO I'd been fighting for 48 hours was gone.
This felt like the Alejandro from five years ago; the one who would've leveled the world for me, the one who used to hold me through the worst nights and promise he wasn't going anywhere.
His grip was so tight it almost hurt, but it drowned out everything else: the lies, the heartbreak, the way he'd just ruined my life.
Just for this one moment, I let myself forget he was the villain. I just let him be home.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only minutes, he pulled back, his grey eyes locking onto mine.
I searched inside them desperately, hoping for answers—regret, explanation, anything. But there was nothing.
He'd put the mask back on. His eyes were flat, guarded, a blank slate that told me absolutely nothing.
Whatever warmth had been there a second ago was gone, and the tiny spark of hope I'd been holding onto just went cold.
He opened the passenger door without a word.
"Get in."
It wasn't the jagged bark he used in the office. It was quiet, strict, and left no room for a 'no.' I climbed into the leather interior, and the door clicked shut with a sound like a vault locking.
The silence inside the SUV was so thick you could have poked a pin in it and heard the air hiss.
His dominating cologne filled the small space, making it impossible to breathe well.
I kept my eyes glued to the road ahead, my posture ramrod straight, afraid to relax into the plush seat.
What if this niceness was a fluke? Maybe he'd had a drink or two at whatever brought him to the bar, or some external force was at play, and the monster would return the second he was sober.
Finally, after what felt like days of winding through upscale neighborhoods, the car skidded into a long, gated driveway, leading up to a stunning modern mansion.
Glass walls gleamed under strategically placed lights, surrounded by manicured lawns and an infinity pool that shimmered in the moonlight.
I bit back a gasp, not wanting to make a fool of myself gawking.
We got out together, the gravel crunching under our shoes as he led me to the grand double doors.
Inside was even more breathtaking: soaring ceilings with crystal chandeliers, minimalist decor in shades of gray and white marble, abstract art on the walls that probably cost more than my annual salary.
A sweeping staircase curved up to what I imagined were opulent bedrooms, and the open-plan living area flowed into a state-of-the-art kitchen that screamed luxury.
I couldn't help but wonder how his life had flipped so drastically in three years.
I couldn't help but wonder how his life had flipped so drastically in three years.
Alejandro hadn't been poor when we were together—far from it. He had a penthouse downtown, a couple of nice cars, a comfortable life built on ambition and smart actions.
But this? This was billionaire territory, the kind of wealth that bought companies on a whim.
What had changed? Some massive deal? Gambling? Inheritance I never knew about?
Back then, he used to stay up half the night sketching out business plans while I was passed out beside him. I used to worry those dreams were going to eat him alive if he didn't reach them.
Well, I didn't need to worry anymore. He'd reached them. He'd checked every box on his list, and all it seemed to cost him was his soul. I think?
A bittersweet pang hit me. I was happy for him, somehow, in that twisted ex-way. But it stung that between us, after all our late-night talks under the stars, sharing vulnerabilities and visions, he'd soared while I... I wallowed.
Because he broke me. Shattered my trust with his secrets and lies, leaving me to pick up the pieces alone. It was easy for him to move on, rebuild, conquer.
Me? I was still scraping by, fighting just to keep my head above the water.
"Sit down," he commanded, gesturing to the plush sectional sofa before disappearing down a hallway.
I hesitated, too wired to relax, pacing a little instead. When he returned, he carried a chilled bottle of water, condensation beading on the bottle.
His brows shot up as he strode forward, noticing I hadn't obeyed.
"You seem to have trouble taking instructions, Rhea," he grumbled, handing me the bottle with a hint of annoyance.
"Thank you," I murmured. I unscrewed the cap and chugged half of it down in one go, the cold liquid soothing my raw throat.
I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face.
"So," he began, breaking the quiet as he leaned against the arm of the sofa, his arms crossed.
"That bar gig is why you didn't want to show up and do your job tomorrow? Skipping out on a crucial meeting for... what, slinging drinks to drunks?"
I closed my eyes, and drew in a deep breath to steady the rising frustration.
"Alejandro, please... I mean, sir," I corrected quickly. "I don't need your taunts right now. I'm tired. I'm just so tired."
He chuckled, a melodious rumbling sound that chilled my fingers.
"Exhausted? From what, exactly? Defying your boss all day, then playing damsel at a dive bar? Come on, Rhea."
"Please, stop," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. "You don't get to judge my life. Not after—"
"After what?" he pressed, leaning closer, his eyes narrowing. "After you walked away? Left me in the dust?"
I blinked, momentarily stunned.
Was he seriously doing this? Was he actually blaming me for leaving? Anyone with a brain would've walked out after finding out their partner had been hiding a whole life, a whole...
I closed my eyes for a second, forcing a breath through my nose. My lungs felt tight.
If he wasn't even going to admit he'd screwed up, there was no point in a confrontational match.
I just hoped that one day—somewhere down the line—he'd actually realize what he'd done to me.