Raging Thoughts
ARIANA'S POV
I woke up before the sun did.
The room was bathed in a muted, bluish glow from the skyline beyond the glass walls of Hardin's penthouse. His arm was draped over my waist, heavy and warm, his breath slow and steady against the curve of my neck. I lay there for a moment, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breathing, letting the weight of his body against mine soothe the storm inside me.
But it didn’t last.
The moment I slipped from beneath his arm and stepped out of the bed, reality came crashing back like a wave slamming into my chest. I padded silently to the window, bare feet against cool marble, the silk of last night’s dress still pooled somewhere on the bedroom floor. One of his shirts hung loosely off my frame, the collar brushing my collarbone like a ghost of last night’s touch.
I stared out at the city.
It looked peaceful from up here—like nothing bad could happen in a place that sparkled this beautifully. But I knew better. The chaos didn’t disappear just because you climbed above it. It waited. It watched. And sometimes, it came dressed in expensive suits and smiles like Andrew’s.
Andrew’s words still echoed in my head.
"Of course she’s with him now—he’s CEO. Isn’t that what she always wanted?"
I wrapped my arms around myself, pressing my forehead to the glass. Was that what people thought? That I was with Hardin because he's now the CEO, a man with the power, the money?
God, it made my stomach turn.
I hadn’t given a damn about any of that. I hadn’t fallen for the suits or the prestige or the way his name carried weight like a weapon. I had fallen in love with him way before all that.
I fell for his scars. His loyalty. The way he looked at me like I was something more than just pretty packaging.
And yet—
A part of me couldn’t help but wonder if others saw something different. If the world thought I was just another woman clinging to the man on top. I was a powerful woman myself but still—
It hurt.
But not as much as thinking about Uncle Garry.
My jaw clenched.
That bastard.
He thought he could manipulate everyone—even from behind prison bars. The so-called stabbing incident? I wasn’t buying it for a second. He was clever. Manipulative. Dangerous. And I could feel it in my bones that the entire thing was a setup. A distraction.
A warning.
And if he escaped...
I exhaled sharply, running my fingers through my hair. My family had already suffered enough. We didn’t need another storm.
“What’s wrong?”
Hardin’s voice was still thick with sleep, gravelly and low, curling around my spine like silk. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want him to see the storm in my eyes.
“Nothing,” I said quietly.
I felt him move before I heard him. The warmth of his body pressed against my back, his arms sliding around my waist like they were meant to be there.
“You sure about that?” he asked, lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
I turned slowly, looking up at him. His hair was tousled, eyes still hooded with sleep, but his expression was sharp, focused. He could read me too well.
Instead of answering, I leaned up and kissed him.
Soft. Slow.
His grip on my waist tightened.
And then he kissed me back.
Not soft.
Not slow.
It was a collision—of heat, of need, of something darker, heavier. Like he could taste my thoughts on my tongue. Like he needed to remind me of who I was. Who we were.
He lifted me effortlessly, and I wrapped my legs around him, a gasp escaping me as he pressed me back against the cold window.
The contrast sent a shiver down my spine.
“You want me to stop?” he whispered, voice hoarse, mouth brushing mine.
I dragged my fingers through his hair, eyes locked on his. “Don’t you dare.”
That was all he needed.
His hips snapped forward, and I cried out, fingers digging into his shoulders as he filled me in one hard, smooth thrust.
The glass was cool against my back, but Hardin burned.
His mouth was on my throat, my collarbone, my lips. He moved inside me like a man possessed—every stroke purposeful, every thrust deeper than the last. His hand slid up my spine, anchoring me to him, and I clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in my world.
“Look at me,” he growled, dragging my gaze back to his. “Don’t hide from me.”
I whimpered, overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes.
“Let me see you,” he said, voice rough. “Let me remind you who you are.”
I shattered.
My body convulsed around him, pleasure rippling through me in waves as I cried out his name, lost in the sensation, in the moment, in him.
He followed with a groan that shook through his entire body, burying himself deep as he came undone.
For a moment, we just breathed.
His forehead dropped to mine, his chest heaving against mine, the world outside the glass forgotten. The city continued moving beneath us, but in this moment, in his arms, I was still.
Safe.
Loved.
He carried me back to bed, laid me down gently, and curled himself around me like a shield.
“I know you're thinking about what Andrew said,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers through my hair.
I stiffened.
“I don’t care what they say. You and me? We’re more than whispers and rumors. You’re not with me because I’m CEO. You’re with me in spite of it.”
I turned to face him, eyes wet.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’ll always be like this,” I whispered. “Always having to prove we’re more than what they think.”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “Let them think what they want. We’ll just keep proving them wrong.”
I smiled, even as my heart ached.
I exhaled, relief washing over me like rain.
“I’ll protect you,” he said, voice low and fierce. “From Andrew. From Garry. From anyone who tries to come between us.”
“I know,” I whispered.
And I believed him.
Because he wasn’t just fire and fury. He was sanctuary.
He pulled me close, his hand resting over my heart. “We’ll get through this.”
I closed my eyes, letting his heartbeat lull me.
And in that quiet, sacred moment, I knew—
Even if the world doubted us, even if the threats closed in, even if my past came knocking...
I’d still choose him.
Every time.
Because when the city slept and the chaos quieted—
Hardin was the only truth I ever needed.
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