Chapter 20: Old Bonds, New Fires
The bar they went to was discreet—dark wood, low lights, and the sort of privacy billionaires paid for. Aiden sat in a corner booth, the city's night lights winking beyond the window. Josh—his oldest friend, his easiest smile—had already ordered their drinks and settled opposite him, the dim light catching at the gold watch on his wrist.
"You look like a man who's been punched by fate," Josh said, sliding a glass toward Aiden. "Relax. Tonight's for forgetting."
Aiden took the glass automatically, the amber liquid catching his eyes. He should have finished it and let the alcohol fog him into calm. Instead, his thoughts kept drifting back to one set of eyes, one laugh. "I'm not the kind of man who needs that kind of forgetting," he muttered, staring into the glass.
Josh snorted and waved a hand like their years together could sweep his mood away. "You're a billionaire, Aiden. You have entire companies to drown in. So why are you wound up over a maid? Sit back, drink. Tell me a story where the world doesn't threaten to collapse."
Aiden's jaw tightened. He resented how effortlessly Josh could joke about everything—about money, about women, about life. The jokes were shields Josh wore like armor; they fit him. Aiden pushed his glass away and gave a half-grunt. "My mother got me a maid," he said flatly.
Josh's eyebrows shot up. "Another gold-digger? Can we not? Last time we had one, she tried to charm the CFO and set up a trust fund." He laughed and leaned in, eyes gleaming. "So? Is she the same? Pretty? Calculated?"
"No." The word came from somewhere rough inside Aiden. "She's… different." He found himself trying to shape the truth like a fragile object. "She's clumsy. She's annoying. She—" He stopped, because even saying that much felt like confessing, and confession had never been his currency.
Josh's laugh turned into an easy, teasing grin. "She sounds terrible. And perfect." He raised his glass in mock toast. "Dude, don't tell me you're falling for your maid. You already know how these things go—"
"I'm not falling for her," Aiden snapped, sharper than he meant. The room shifted for a second; Josh's grin widened, because Aiden's denial was always half-admission.
"Great," Josh said, eyes dancing. "Would like to see her. Hope she's sexy and curvy—bet she'd be good in bed." He leaned back, laughter spilling out like it always did when he pushed buttons. "Besides, it's good you find someone, man. Don't drown yourself in last year forever. Mae—"
"Mae is not last year," Aiden cut in, the name a raw thing he kept under glass. It snapped every time someone clinked it free. "You know that."
Josh sobered for a breath, the teasing melting into something like concern. "I know. But—look—don't keep punishing yourself. You can… you can breathe. Maybe let someone else in. It won't erase her, but—"
"No." Aiden's voice was a low, dangerous thing. He felt the old ache thaw into a different temperature—anger sharpened with something like fear. "I can't love anyone else but Mae."
Josh raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh really? Then can I have your maid?" He slapped the table, half-joking, half-probing. The offer was a dare masked as a trifle.
Something inside Aiden snapped. It wasn't jealousy the way he'd been taught to name it—this was cold, possessive, deeper than petty rage. The idea of Josh touching what was near her—the way he'd seen her smile that other night—felt like salt in a new wound.
"No." The word was sudden and absolute. Aiden stood, the motion quick, abrupt. "No."
Josh blinked. "Hey, man—"
Aiden didn't wait to listen. His hand shook slightly as he gestured, calling for his bodyguard. "Wheel me out," he said. His voice had that clipped finality that people who'd grown used to getting what they wanted used when something inside them threatened to break.
Josh laughed—uncomfortable now—a sound that tried to cover for the moment he'd gone too far. "You're wound tight. You need to loosen up."
Aiden's face had tightened into something Joshua had rarely seen: protective, ferocious, almost animal. He had to get away before he said something he couldn't take back—before the casual words seeded into reality. He could feel his pulse in his throat, hot and sudden. The muscles in his jaw twitched.
"Wheel him out," he repeated to the bodyguard standing by the booth.
The guard moved, practiced and efficient. Aiden felt the angle of the chair shift beneath him as they pushed him toward the door. The air outside tasted like rain and something electric. As they moved, Josh's laugh turned into a muttered apology.
Aiden looked back once as the doors closed behind them. In the reflection of the glass, he could see himself: a man who hated the idea of losing control. A man who, despite every oath and every stone around his heart, hadn't known that a single presence could rearrange the inside of him.
He didn't want to see her with another man. That thought surprised him, frightened him, and rooted him all at once. The thought was ugly and honest. And as the city lights blurred past, as the car navigated them home, he felt the first tremors of something he could not label—something that would not be quieted by money or distance.
Outside, the mansion awaited—quiet, watchful. Inside, someone was waiting too, in ways he'd not yet dared to admit.