I'm Taken
HARDIN'S POV
The drive to the Miller estate was quiet, save for Ariana’s soft humming beside me. She looked out the window, a slight smile on her lips, completely at peace. I watched her whenever I could, sneaking glances at stoplights, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her fingers tapped lightly on her thigh to some rhythm in her head.
God, I was obsessed. There was no other word for it.
She’d wrapped herself around every part of my existence, and the scary part? I didn’t want to be free of her.
I pulled up in front of her house, the engine still rumbling beneath us. Ariana turned to me, brows raised. "You’re staring again."
I smirked. "Can you blame me?"
She leaned over and kissed me, soft and quick, but I wasn’t having that. I deepened the kiss, one hand fisting in her hair, the other tugging her closer over the console. She melted into me, like she always did.
But she pulled away too soon, breathless and flushed. "Stop it, Hardin. You’re making it very hard to leave."
"That’s the plan," I murmured, brushing my nose against hers. "You’re becoming an addiction, Ari. If you don’t get out right now, I swear I’m turning this car around, finding the nearest secluded cabin, and we’re going to pick up where we left off."
She laughed, stepping out of the car with a wink. "Tempting. But I have a dinner date with my mom and grandpa. Don’t miss me too much."
I watched her walk away, biting my bottom lip. Damn that girl. Every step she took ignited something dangerous in me. I waited until she was inside before driving off, already missing her presence beside me.
The drive back to my family’s estate should’ve been uneventful. I should’ve been thinking about Ariana. About what we’d do tomorrow. About pancakes and lazy mornings. But as I pulled into the long driveway, a strange feeling settled in my gut.
Laughter.
Female.
And not my mother’s.
As soon as I stepped through the grand double doors, the scent of lavender and something too sweet hit me in the face like a damn perfume bomb.
Beatrice.
My jaw tensed as I stepped into the sitting room and found her—legs crossed, posture perfect, a saccharine smile on her face as she chatted with my mother like they were old friends.
The hell?
My mother saw me and lit up. "Oh, Hardin! Look who stopped by! Isn’t it sweet? As soon as Beatrice heard your birthday was coming up, she offered to help me with the party planning."
I didn’t smile. Didn’t move. I stared straight at Beatrice, who had the audacity to stand and approach me like she belonged in this house.
"Hardin," she purred, her eyes roaming over me far too boldly. "It’s been too long."
I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. "What are you doing here, Beatrice?"
"Helping," my mother answered for her, clearly delighted. "She just wants to assist with your birthday party. Isn’t that thoughtful?"
Thoughtful my ass.
"Mother," I said, turning to her with steel in my voice. "If you don’t want my day ruined, you’ll make sure Beatrice has nothing to do with my birthday."
Her smile faltered. "Hardin—"
"No. I’ve told you already. I want nothing to do with her. This—" I gestured toward Beatrice. "—is exactly what I don’t need."
Beatrice’s smile didn’t waver, but I saw the flicker of irritation in her eyes. She was good at the whole ‘innocent girl’ act. But I knew better.
"I’m only trying to help," she said softly. "Your birthday is coming up, Hardin. I thought it’d be nice to do something kind."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice but not the intensity. "We’re not friends, Beatrice. The only relationship we have is professional. If you can’t respect that, I’ll speak to your father. I’d much rather work with Mr Davis."
Her eyes flashed. "That’s unnecessary."
"No, what’s unnecessary is you showing up at my home, talking to my mother like you’re part of this family. You’re not."
Before either of them could say another word, I turned and strode upstairs, my blood boiling. The moment my bedroom door shut behind me, I exhaled sharply, yanking at my tie and throwing it onto the bed.
Why couldn’t everyone just leave me alone?
I grabbed my phone, pacing.
One text from Beatrice. One message, and Ariana had gone tense. She’d tried to hide it, but I knew her. It had cut her. That damned message had tainted our perfect morning.
And now this?
Beatrice playing the sweet daughter-in-law with my mother?
Hell no.
I sat on the edge of my bed, breathing hard, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress. My phone buzzed in my hand.
Mom: Please don’t be rude. Beatrice just wants to help.
I didn’t reply.
Seconds later:
Mom: Son, don't be mad.
I tossed my phone aside and ran a hand through my hair. I needed to clear my head before I said something I’d regret. But all I could think about was Ariana. Her voice. Her laugh. The way her eyes had narrowed this morning when she saw that message.
She didn’t trust Beatrice. And she was right not to.
That woman didn’t want peace. She wanted power. Control. Me.
Too damn bad.
Because I was already taken.
And I wasn't going to let some woman ruin what we have.
Never.
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