Please Baby
HARDIN’S POV
The blaring of my phone shattered the silence like a gunshot.
I jolted upright, heart pounding, my mind already racing ahead of my body. My hand scrambled in the sheets, grabbing for the vibrating device on the nightstand.
“Ariana?” I croaked as I answered without looking, voice thick with sleep and hope.
But the voice that came through wasn’t hers.
“Hardin, really? That’s how you leave me in Switzerland? Just vanish without a word?”
Beatrice.
Fucking Beatrice.
My entire body stiffened, disappointment hitting me square in the chest like a punch. I didn’t even answer. Just stared at the wall in front of me, jaw tight, temples throbbing.
She kept going, oblivious or uncaring.
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was? Or do you just enjoy being dramatic—”
I ended the call.
Just like that.
I didn’t have the energy. Not for her. Not for Switzerland. Not for whatever fake crisis she thought she was managing.
I slumped back onto the bed, pressing my palms into my face and dragging them down slowly, willing myself to breathe. To move. To function.
The ache in my chest hadn’t dulled—it had only settled deeper.
Every part of me felt heavy, like I was walking through wet cement, and yet there was this fire under my skin, a restless kind of rage and longing that refused to be extinguished.
She hadn’t called.
Hadn’t texted.
Hadn’t even paid attention to me when I stood in front of her like a fool, watching her give someone else the warmth I’d been begging for.
But I wasn’t done.
Not yet.
Not even close.
I dragged myself to my feet, moving like a machine. Showered. Brushed my teeth. Threw on a black shirt and charcoal slacks. The armor I wore when I had to pretend I wasn’t falling apart.
When I got downstairs, Ronny was already waiting by the kitchen island, dressed in a fitted navy suit and sipping what smelled like the strongest coffee known to man.
He looked up as I entered, eyes scanning me like he was reading a case file.
“How you holding up?”
“Like shit,” I muttered, grabbing a clean glass from the rack and pouring myself water. “But I’ll get through it.”
Ronny nodded, pushing away from the counter. “Good. Because today’s gonna be a long one.”
I took a long drink and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Any updates on that guy?”
“The one with the lilies?” he asked, already stepping into his shoes.
“Yeah.”
He gave a grim nod. “Working on it. I’ve got a couple hits on facial recognition, running them through some networks now. You’ll know before the day’s out.”
“Appreciate it.”
He clapped my shoulder once. “Let’s move.”
We stepped outside together, the morning sun too bright for how dark I felt inside. Ronny got into his black Range Rover, and I climbed into my car.
The silence in my car felt heavier than usual. Every street I turned onto, every red light I hit, felt like it was taunting me. Daring me to break down.
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Halfway to the office, I tapped my phone and stared at her name.
Just call her.
What’s the worst that could happen?
She doesn’t pick up?
She tells you to leave her alone?
She already did that.
With a deep breath, I pressed her name.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Come on, baby. Pick up.
Four.
Five.
Voicemail.
The call ended, and I sat there with the phone still against my ear, like maybe if I waited long enough, she’d call back.
She didn’t.
I gritted my teeth and hit a new contact.
Joan.
Her assistant picked up on the second ring, chirpy and professional.
“Mr Richard? Good morning.”
“Joan. I just need a quick update. Is Ariana still in the hospital?”
“Oh—no, sir. She was discharged this morning.”
I sat up straighter. “She’s home?”
“Yes, she’s doing very well, actually. The doctor cleared her. She even responded to a few work emails. She’s… uh, resting now, though.”
I exhaled, my grip on the steering wheel loosening slightly. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything else.”
I ended the call.
So she was okay.
Physically, at least.
That gave me a little peace—but only a little. Because I still had no idea what the hell was going on in her head. And if she thought pushing me away was enough to keep me gone, she didn’t know me as well as she used to.
She’d talk to me.
Whether she liked it or not.
I turned onto the highway, pushing the accelerator just enough to let the engine growl beneath me. Traffic was light. The skyline was rising fast ahead. But my thoughts were stuck back at the hospital. Back in that hallway.
That look in her eyes… like I was nothing but an echo from a life she wanted to forget.
The memory gnawed at me as I pulled into the underground garage of the firm.
Security waved me through without a second glance, and I parked in my usual spot. But I didn’t get out right away.
I gripped the steering wheel and took a long breath.
This day was going to demand everything from me.
And I had nothing left to give.
Still, I got out. Still, I moved forward.
The elevator ride up to my floor was silent, the walls closing in around me with every second. When the doors finally opened, I squared my shoulders and stepped into the corridor.
Straight into hell.
Because the moment I turned the corner and walked into my office suite, she was there.
My mother.
Perched on the armrest of my leather couch like she owned the place—hell, like she owned me—wearing a tailored beige pantsuit and a sweet smile.
“Well,” she said, rising smoothly to her feet as if she'd been waiting all morning. “Look who finally decided to show up.”
So much for catching my breath before I dealt with another war.
I didn't say a word.
Just stared at her, jaw locked, pulse thudding in my ears.
This was going to be a long goddamn day.
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