He's Mine
ARIANA'S POV
Hardin was mine.
That thought echoed in my mind as I lay curled up in bed, the warmth of his voice still lingering in my ears from our call. My fingers brushed over the pillow wishing he was here sleeping beside me, the sheets too cold, too empty.
I hated the space between us, hated how time dragged without him near.
And most of all—I hated the thought of another woman trying to insert herself where she didn’t belong.
Beatrice.
Even her name irritated me. It sounded sharp and smug. I didn’t care how powerful her father. She could have the whole goddamn Forbes list at her disposal and I still wouldn’t blink before tearing her apart.
Hardin was not a toy. Not a prize. He wasn’t someone you cornered in a boardroom and tried to seduce with cheap perfume and overdrawn lips. He was mine. Every piece of him—from the way his voice dropped when he got tired, to the fire that lit behind his eyes when he was angry, to the way his arms caged around me like I was the only thing keeping him sane.
I’d rip the world apart for that man.
And I’d annihilate anyone who tried to take him from me.
With that thought, my body finally relaxed, and sleep came slowly, curling around me like smoke—haunted and protective.
***
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, warming my face. I blinked against the brightness, stretching lazily.
It was Saturday. And for the first time in a long time, I felt rested.
I wrapped my robe tighter around me and padded out into the hallway. The scent of pancakes and fresh coffee drifted through the air. That could only mean one thing—Mom was in a good mood.
“Morning,” I said softly as I entered the kitchen.
My mother looked up from the stove, a rare smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes were clearer than they had been in days, the usual shadow of exhaustion temporarily lifted.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, flipping a pancake. “You slept in.”
“I needed it.” I smiled back, walking over to kiss her cheek.
My grandfather sat at the table, sipping his coffee and flipping through the paper. He looked over his glasses at me with that same familiar twinkle in his eye.
“There she is,” he said. “My favorite girl.”
“Morning, Grandpa,” I grinned.
“Big day today,” he muttered, folding the newspaper. “There’s an auction being hosted by the Skylars soon. Thinking of going.”
I raised a brow. “The Skylars?”
He nodded. “They’ve got a rare collection on the block. But I don’t know… standing around with a bunch of men in suits bidding on diamonds doesn’t sound like my idea of fun these days.”
I laughed and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Then don’t go. But if you want to… go. You’re still sharp enough to outbid half the room.”
“Damn right,” he muttered proudly.
Breakfast passed with light chatter, a rare kind of peace hanging in the air. My mother even laughed at one of Grandpa’s terrible jokes, and for a moment, the world felt normal again.
But beneath it all, I couldn’t shake the excitement brewing in my chest. I had plans for today.
Plans that involved Hardin.
After kissing both of them goodbye and reminding them to stay out good—especially Grandpa—I grabbed my keys and slipped into my car, the BMW purring to life beneath my hands.
Today wasn’t about errands. It wasn’t about obligations or work.
Today… was for him.
I drove downtown, weaving through traffic with practiced ease until I reached one of the most exclusive boutiques in the city—Elan Noire. It was the kind of place that didn’t have a website, and appointments were usually made weeks in advance. But I had a standing pass, thanks to a favor I did for the owner once upon a time.
The bell chimed as I stepped inside, the scent of vanilla, leather, and luxury instantly wrapping around me.
“Miss Ariana,” the manager greeted me. “So good to see you again.”
I gave a nod and a quick smile. “Just browsing today. But I’ll need a private room.”
“Of course.”
As I wandered the store, my fingers brushed over the silks and satins, lace and mesh. I wanted something bold. Something scandalous. Something that would make Hardin forget how to breathe.
I selected a few sets—deep red, emerald green, black with delicate chains—and handed them off to the attendant. But as I turned toward the shoe section, something stopped me in my tracks.
There they were.
Heels. Not just any heels.
They were stilettos, high and impossibly elegant, with a crimson sole and black snakeskin texture that practically oozed confidence and danger.
I walked toward them, heart skipping. They were perfect.
I reached out—
And another hand touched the shoe at the exact same time.
I froze, my eyes snapping to the hand.
Well-manicured. Expensive-looking ring.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze until I was staring into a pair of sharp green eyes set against flawless, chestnut-brown hair that framed a smirking face.
She looked like she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Excuse me,” I said coolly, withdrawing my hand slightly but not moving away. “I saw those first.”
She cocked her head, her smirk deepening. “Did you? Hm. I guess we both have good taste.”
“I don’t like repeating myself,” I said, voice steady. “The shoes are taken.”
She shrugged. “Funny thing about fashion—possession is in the eye of the beholder. If I want it, it’s mine.”
My eyes narrowed.
There was something in her voice. Something loaded.
She wasn’t just talking about shoes.
“You should really be careful with your words,” I replied, the smile fading from my lips. “Some things don’t belong to just anyone.”
She stepped closer, slowly removing her hand from the heel like it meant nothing to her now. But the look she gave me? That was the real statement.
“I don’t mind letting you enjoy them for now,” she said smoothly. “But don’t get too comfortable.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her hips swaying like she owned the floor beneath her.
I stood there, stunned, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind.
What the hell just happened?
I wasn’t the type to be rattled easily. But that woman… something about her set off every instinct in me.
My jaw clenched as I stared down at the heel I still held.
This wasn’t just shopping anymore.
This felt like war.
***
I tried on the lingerie in a haze, my thoughts still spinning from that bizarre encounter.
The way she looked at me—like she was already planning something. Like she knew something I didn't.
But she had no idea who she was dealing with.
After purchasing the heels and the most sinful piece of lingerie I’d ever dared to wear, I climbed back into my car, my fingers gripping the wheel tighter than necessary.
This was supposed to be a normal day. A happy day.
But now?
Now, there was a storm coming.
And I’d be damned if I didn’t meet it head-on.
Hardin might not know it yet, but something just shifted.
He belongs to me and only me.
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