You're My Everything

ARIANA'S POV

The soft glow of my laptop screen cast pale shadows across the room, highlighting the glitter of diamonds and the smooth curves of platinum bands on the designs I was reviewing. It was nearly dawn, and I should have been asleep hours ago, but my mind was wired, buzzing with both exhaustion and inspiration.

It was one of those rare moments when work felt like peace.

I sank deeper into the cushions, one leg propped up, my silk robe loosely tied around me, hair a mess, and a half-empty glass of wine sitting forgotten on the nightstand. The design team had outdone themselves this time. Even through the exhaustion, I felt proud of what we were creating.

Then, a knock.

I jumped slightly, the wine glass clinking against the wood as my fingers twitched.

Who the hell knocks on a door at 4:30 in the morning?

My stomach tightened. I stared at the door, half expecting it to open on its own. My mind ran through possibilities—security? An emergency? Had something happened to Hardin? My mom?

I padded across the room, bare feet silent against the floor. I didn’t even think to grab anything for protection. I just opened the door.

And there he was.

Hardin.

Wind-tousled hair, dark jeans, a leather jacket clinging to his broad frame like it was made for him, and that damn crooked smile that always made my brain short-circuit.

He didn’t even say hello. He just grinned and said, "Can I sneak into your bed, please?"

I blinked at him.

Then I laughed—an actual, real, belly-deep laugh that felt like sunshine after a hurricane.

"You look like you've been in a car chase and a cologne commercial at the same time," I said, stepping aside to let him in.

He stepped into the room with the ease of someone who belonged there, glancing around briefly like he expected something to jump out. I shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, arms crossed but unable to hide the warmth that bubbled up in my chest at the sight of him.

He shrugged, suddenly more serious. "You left just like that after the passionate night we shared. And I couldn’t sleep, not until I know you were doing okay—I had to make sure you were okay."

That softened me instantly. Making my heart flutter.

My hands dropped to my sides as I stepped closer. He didn’t reach for me. He waited. Like always. Letting me choose.

I wrapped my arms around him.

His warmth, his scent, that steady heartbeat under his shirt—it was home, somehow.

"I’m fine," I whispered, voice muffled against his chest. "You worry too much Hardin, I told you I was fine,"

He groaned as he just held me tighter, his hands moving gently up and down my back. I really can't believe how far we've come. From being his boss who wanted to do nothing but torture him to his girlfriend who can't do without him.

We made our way to the bed, still wrapped around each other. He kicked off his boots and shrugged off his jacket, crawling under the covers like he did this every night. I followed, curling into his side, letting his body cocoon mine.

"So," he said after a long pause, his voice low, almost sleepy. "What does a beautiful woman do at this ungodly hour besides steal hearts and confuse emotionally unavailable men?"

I smirked. "Jewelry. And maybe a little world domination."

"My favorite kind of hobby."

I laughed again, turning slightly so I could see his face. "Do you always flirt like it’s an Olympic sport?"

He looked thoughtful. "Only with women who make my heart do weird things and wear strawberry-scented lotion."

I punched him lightly in the chest. "You remembered my lotion scent?"

"It’s burned into my soul. I think I’ll be haunted by it when I’m old and gray."

"You’re so dramatic."

"You like it."

I rolled my eyes and burrowed deeper into the sheets. "Maybe. Just a little."

We lay there in a quiet lull. The kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward. Just peaceful. But of course, Hardin couldn’t leave it at that.

"So. Be honest," he said. "If I snored, would you still let me stay here?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "That depends. How loud are we talking? Chainsaw in a forest loud? Or soft, sad trombone sound?"

He cracked up. "Definitely the trombone. But occasionally I hit saxophone levels when I’ve had too much sugar."

"Then no sugar for you. Ever."

He grinned. "So I’m allowed to stay?"

I sighed dramatically. "Only because you’re cute. And warm. And you smell like my favorite kind of trouble."

He nuzzled into my neck. "You’re my favorite kind of everything."

That shut me up real quick.

I didn’t know how he did that—how he could joke and flirt and then drop something that made my heart skip and stutter.

I looked up at him, suddenly serious. "You really okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Just... couldn’t stop thinking. About you. About the night."

He paused, then gently kissed my forehead. "It felt too quiet without you."

My chest squeezed.

God, how did I get here? How did we get here? And why did it feel so terrifying and perfect all at once?

He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together under the covers.

"Stay with me," I whispered.

"Always."

The warmth of his promise seeped into my bones.

I drifted off slowly, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the safety of his arms.

Somewhere between dreams and dawn, I felt him kiss the top of my head again. A soft whisper, so faint I almost missed it.

"You’re everything."

And even in sleep, I smiled.

Because somehow, in this crazy, chaotic mess of a world, we’d found each other. And for tonight—maybe just tonight—that was enough.

Until the next storm came.

And knowing us, it would come fast, loud, and uninvited.

But we’d face it together.
She's The Boss
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