Chapter 14 Avoiding Him
Aiyana's P.O.V
I woke up the next morning certain of one thing:
I needed distance.
Whatever was happening between Jerome and I. Those glances, those almost-touches, those late-night moments where he stood in my doorway like he was torn between leaving and holding me, it was dangerous.
Too dangerous.
People like him didn’t fall in love.
They possessed,and consumed.
They didn’t ask for hearts, they took them, and I couldn’t let mine be one of the things he owned.
So I spent the next few days like a ghost in the room he gave me.
Polite. Quiet. Present, but unreachable.
When he sat, I stood.
When he entered, I looked away.
When he spoke, I answered with as few words as possible.
He still checked in daily, but I kept a wall between us, hoping he’d get bored or irritated and leave me to fade into the background of his empire again, or release me but Jerome Black was not a man easily ignored.
He didn’t confront me, didn’t demand answers, didn’t even ask what was wrong. Instead, he did something worse, he simply changed tactics.
First, he started showing up earlier.
Then later.
Sometimes he stayed longer, sitting silently across the room like a shadow refusing to disappear. He wouldn’t speak unless I did, which I didn’t, and his patience was as terrifying as his rage. He watched me like I was something fragile he didn’t know how to hold without breaking.
Like warmth made him nervous.
Like distance frustrated him.
And yet, I kept it.
~=•=~
On the fourth day, Gerald appeared as loud, careless, and allergic to silence as usual
He burst through my door without knocking, flopping dramatically onto the chair near my window. It seemed rude but as carefree as he was, he had definitely asked the guards first.
“Good morning, Miss Gorgeous.” He sang, with eyes glittering as always.
I froze, book in hand, back straight, and every muscle tense.
Gerald wasn’t like Jerome. He radiated sunshine and chaos, the type of man who flirted with death the same way he flirted with women. Constantly and recklessly.
Today though, his smile was sharper, curious, like he had been watching something unfold and finally knew the punchline.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“So.” he said loudly, “why are you avoiding my dear best friend?”
My heart slammed so violently against my ribs I thought he could hear it.
I didn’t look up.
Didn’t breathe too deeply.
Didn’t let the panic show.
“I’m not avoiding anyone.” I muttered, knowing that I was not convincing anyone, especially with that tone, it was even unconvincing even to myself.
Gerald laughed, bright and amused, like he’d been waiting for that lie.
“Sweetheart.” He said, playful but knowing.“Jerome could be on fire and you’d still pretend he wasn’t in the room.” He said and I realised that he had indeed been there sometimes when I acted like the man didn't exist.
He could be invincible when he wanted to.
My throat tightened. I kept my eyes glued to the page, even though the words were foggy and unreadable. Gerald circled me slowly, observing like I was the most interesting puzzle in the building.
“You know,” He continued slyly, “I’ve known him fourteen years. Never seen him bring someone chocolate. Never seen him sit quietly in a room for longer than five minutes and I especially haven’t seen him check in on someone more times than he checks on the entire organization.”
I swallowed. Hard.
Gerald clicked his tongue.
“Yet here he is, hovering like a jealous wolf while you pretend he’s invisible.”
I turned sharply toward him, pulse wild.
“I’m not pretending…”
“Oh you are.” He interrupted with a grin. “And you’re doing an adorable job of it.”
I hated how accurate he was.
I hated more that it made my cheeks warm.
Gerald’s eyes softened, surprising me, because beneath all that mischief, something like understanding flickered.
“You’re scared and confused, aren't you?” He asked rhetorically.
I froze.
He lowered his voice.
“And he doesn’t know what to do with that.”
Before I could respond, the door opened.
Jerome entered, pausing immediately he saw us, me tense, Gerald lounging comfortably near me. His eyes flickered, only slightly, but I saw it:
Possessiveness.
Restraint.
Emotion he didn’t dare express aloud.
He walked toward us silently, each step measured. He wasn’t angry, though he could’ve been. He wasn’t cold, though many would expect him to be. He was something far more dangerous.
Determined.
Gerald stood, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk.
“Well, well.” he drawled. “Look who finally came to stare at her for the fourth time today.”
Jerome shot him a glare sharp enough to peel skin.
Gerald laughed like it delighted him.
“Relax.” He teased. “She’s still pretending she can’t feel you breathing.” He said again and unjust wished he evaporated this instant as I was having a hard time hiding the blush that creeped up on me
Jerome’s gaze snapped to me. Slow, heavy, and unreadable.
There was no anger, no impatience but something quieter.
Like he’d been starving and didn’t understand why I kept food away from him.
He spoke without looking away from me.
“Gerald.”
Gerald grinned wider.
“Yes, love?”
“Leave.”
“Oh, look,” he whispered loudly, “the killer wants privacy with his little ghost.”
Jerome didn’t even blink.
“Now.”
Gerald’s laughter filled the room like sunlight bouncing off steel. He walked out backward, wiggling his brows at me like he had just thrown gasoline onto fire.
“Try not to devour each other.” He called sing-song from the hallway. As soon as the door closed, I almost begged Gerald to take me with him.
Silence stretched, thick enough to drown in.
Jerome stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Just enough to make my pulse roar in my ears.
“You’re avoiding me.” He said simply. It was not a question.
I stood straighter, nails digging into my palms.
“I needed space.” I responded, after summoning up the courage to do so for some seconds.
He stays quiet for a little while looking like he was considering what I just said.
No anger. No accusation. Just raw, unfiltered attention, the kind that made my knees weak.
“From me.” He concluded quietly.
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
He exhaled slowly, like the word physically struck him, not with pain, but with contemplation.
He lifted his hand slightly like he might touch me, then stopped himself. His restraint was louder than any gesture he’d ever made.
“I don’t want distance.” He said with his voice low, as if he contemplated saying that knowing it probably would have no effect.
“I do.” I whispered, even though part of me didn’t.
His jaw tightened. He didn’t force closer, didn’t demand, didn’t pull me back into his gravity, and that, somehow, broke me more than if he had.
He nodded once, slow.
Then turned toward the door, before he left, he spoke.
“I’ll give y
ou space, Aiyana.” He started with a pause that almost had my heart beating if my chest because honestly, I didn't fully want that space.
“But don’t expect me to stop coming back.”