Nothing Can Separate Us
HARDIN'S POV
I hated this so much. Not the weather—hell, the sun was pouring in like melted gold through the windows, casting the room in that warm glow Ariana said made her feel like we lived in a movie—but because we had to leave. Go to work. Put on masks. Be the people the world expected us to be.
When all I wanted was to stay buried beneath the sheets with her.
I watched her from across the room as she stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing her hands down the soft fabric of the blue suit Vera had brought over. The short skirt hugged her hips in a way that made my mouth dry. The blazer was tailored to perfection, cinched at her waist, giving her that powerful but undeniably sensual look that made my body ache.
She caught me staring.
“What?” she teased, running her fingers through her long, golden waves.
I cleared my throat, adjusting my tie as I tried—and failed—to rein in the dirty thoughts swirling through my head. “That skirt should be illegal.”
Her lips curved in a smug little smile. “Then arrest me, officer.”
I groaned. “You’re not making this easier.”
She took a step toward me, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. “You’re the one who asked Vera to bring this outfit. Don’t blame me for how good I look in it.”
Touche.
I tugged on the cuff of my navy suit, brushing off invisible lint just to keep my hands busy. If I didn’t, I’d grab her and pull her back into bed. Again.
But we couldn’t.
Meetings. Appointments. Clients. And for me, a boardroom full of gray-haired men who cared more about profits than people. It was a miracle I hadn’t snapped and burned the whole empire to the ground by now.
“You ready?” I asked finally, reaching for my watch.
“I can’t believe we're going to work,”
“We can actually go back to bed,” I murmured, sliding an arm around her waist.
“Nope,"
She leaned into me, warm and soft and smelling like vanilla and something addictive I couldn’t name.
“You’re gonna ruin my makeup,” she warned playfully.
“That’s the idea.”
But I behaved. Barely.
We stepped out into the hallway, hand in hand with a broad smile on our faces.
Soon she'll be my wife. I can't wait to propose.
I was waiting for the right moment. The perfect one.
The one she deserved.
As we reached the front door, I paused to grab my keys, but a voice stopped us.
“Hardin.”
I turned slowly.
My mother stood in the corridor, arms folded, lips tight, her posture like a queen surveying her court. Cold. Controlled. Calculated.
I stiffened immediately.
Here we go.
“We need to speak,” she said, eyes flicking past me like I didn’t matter. “Ariana. Alone.”
My spine straightened. “Mom, we’re heading out—”
“I won’t keep her long.”
I glanced at Ariana, my stomach twisting. She knew. I could see it in her eyes. But instead of shrinking back, she gave me a small, confident smile.
I’ve got this.
That was what her look said. Calm. Cool. Brave.
But I still didn’t like it.
Not one fucking bit.
My jaw clenched. “Ariana doesn’t need to—”
“It’s fine,” she cut in gently, touching my arm. “I’ll catch up. Go start the car.”
I didn’t move.
Neither did she.
My mother arched a brow, the barest hint of disdain in her expression. “Unless you’d prefer I have this conversation in front of you?”
Yes. I would. I wanted to stay. To protect her. But Ariana touched my hand again, fingers squeezing lightly.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered.
I didn’t believe her.
Because I knew my mother.
And I knew exactly who she wanted sitting beside me at the next gala. The next dinner. The next family event where the press would be lurking with cameras and fake smiles.
Beatrice.
That manipulative, two-faced, blue-blooded bitch.
The one my mother still called “a better match.”
The one I never wanted to see again.
I took a slow breath, forcing down the fury boiling in my gut. I looked at Ariana, really looked, memorizing the set of her shoulders, the proud tilt of her chin, the fire in her eyes.
She could handle herself. She always had.
But damn, it killed me to walk away.
“I’ll be outside,” I muttered, leaning in to brush my lips against her temple.
She nodded once, and then… they walked away.
My mother and the woman I loved.
And all I could do was stand there, staring at the closed door behind them, wondering what the hell she was going to say to Ariana.
And whether this time… it would be the thing that finally pushed her too far.
***
The seconds dragged. Every minute felt like an hour.
I stood by the car, hands clenched into fists in my pockets, trying not to pace, not to storm back into that house like a man possessed. But my mind was already racing, conjuring up every possible thing my mother could be saying.
Was she threatening her?
Guilt-tripping her?
Telling her she’d never be accepted?
I knew my mother. She didn’t scream. She didn’t raise her voice. She wielded her words like knives—cold and sharp and silent. Death by a thousand cuts.
And Ariana… she was strong, yes. Fierce. But this wasn’t a business rival or a jealous ex. This was family. My family.
And that made it harder.
More personal.
More cruel.
I pulled out my phone, fingers hovering over the screen. Should I text? Should I interrupt?
But just as I was about to storm back in—
The door opened.
Ariana stepped out.
Her face was unreadable. Expression calm, body language relaxed—but I knew her. Knew her better than anyone. And I could see the tightness in her jaw. The flicker of something in her eyes.
Pain.
No. Not pain.
Determination.
I stepped toward her immediately. “Are you okay? What did she say?”
She smiled, and it was soft but dangerous. A weapon wrapped in silk.
“I’m fine,” she said lightly. “We should get going.”
I frowned. “Ari—”
She kissed me.
Right there in the driveway. Mouth firm, lips warm, her hand curling around the back of my neck like she needed to ground herself. Or me. Maybe both.
When she pulled back, her voice was low.
“She’s not going to come between us, Hardin.”
I looked into her eyes. Saw the fire there. The promise.
“Whatever she said,” she added, brushing her thumb over my cheek, “it doesn’t change anything. I’m not going anywhere.”
I nodded slowly, trying to believe her. Trying to let the knot in my stomach loosen.
My mother needs to accept her.
Whether she likes it or not.
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