Nobody Touches What's Mine
HARDIN’S POV
I woke to the weight of eyes on me.
Not in a creepy, stalker kind of way. No. In a way that made the air in the room feel heavier, warmer. Intimate.
I blinked the sleep from my eyes and turned my head slowly.
Ariana.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, hair tousled, cheeks still pink from last night, wearing one of my shirts. She looked like temptation wrapped in sunshine.
A slow smile tugged at my lips.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
She didn’t smile back.
Instead, she sat a little straighter, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as her brows drew together.
Shit.
I knew that look.
Serious Ariana. Dangerous Ariana. The one who only showed up when shit was about to get real.
“What is it?” I asked, instantly more alert. I pushed myself up against the headboard, the warmth from her body already missed.
She hesitated—just for a second.
Then she exhaled, long and slow, like she was trying to loosen something tight inside her chest.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said quietly.
The room tilted just slightly.
Not from her words—but the way she said them.
Measured. Cautious. Like she’d practiced them a hundred times and still didn’t know if they’d come out right.
I turned toward her fully. “Okay. I’m listening.”
She met my gaze. And I saw it—there in her eyes.
The truth.
The weight of it.
“Remember… the morning before you left for Switzerland?”
I nodded slowly. “You mean when I kept asking you what was wrong and you kept insisting everything was fine?”
Her lips quirked, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah. That morning.”
I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “What happened, baby?”
She paused again.
And when she finally spoke, it came out hoarse. Quiet. Almost too soft to catch.
“I saw someone in my room.”
I stilled.
“What do you mean you saw someone?”
Her voice wavered slightly, but she gripped my hand tighter like it anchored her.
“I was asleep when I felt it. That feeling you get when you know someone’s watching you.”
My entire body tensed.
“Ariana—”
“He was standing in my room” she cut in, eyes distant now, like she was seeing it all again. “Just… standing there. I couldn’t see his face. The shadows covered most of him. But he had something in his hand.”
She swallowed.
“It was my dad’s ring.”
My blood went cold.
She didn’t have to explain which ring she meant. I’d seen it in photos. I’d heard the story. The thick, gold signet ring her father wore every day of his life. The one that was buried with him.
“He didn’t say anything,” she continued, voice cracking. “He just looked at me. And then he disappeared.”
I wanted to rip through the shadows of that night and drag whoever it was out into the light. Break his face for thinking he could step into her sanctuary—her room—and do that to her.
But I stayed still.
Because I knew there was more.
And from the haunted look in her eyes, it was worse.
“Ariana…” I said gently. “Who was he?”
She looked at me then. Fully. And what I saw made my breath catch.
Not fear.
Resolve.
“He’s my stepbrother.”
The words dropped like a bomb in the middle of the room.
I blinked. “What?”
She nodded slowly. “I didn’t know about him either. Not until recently. Turns out my dad had an affair. A son no one knew about. He was… a mistake. At least that’s how the family talks about him.”
I stared at her, stunned.
“Jesus. Ariana—”
“He’s back,” she whispered. “And he’s already making threats. He wants the company.”
I felt the heat rise in my chest, slow and violent.
“And you didn’t tell me this sooner?” I asked, trying—and failing—not to sound betrayed.
She looked away, shame flickering across her face. “I wanted to. God, Hardin, I wanted to. But I didn’t want you to worry. And then… we got into that stupid fight. And everything just spiraled.”
I could’ve screamed.
Not at her.
At the universe. At the fact that someone—anyone—thought they could come for her. Threaten her. Scare her into silence.
I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into my lap, cradling her against me.
“Listen to me,” I said, voice low, firm. “Whoever this bastard is… I don’t care whose blood runs in his veins. I don’t care what twisted grudge he’s holding. He will not touch you. He will not touch your legacy. He will not touch a single goddamn brick of what your father built.”
Her eyes burned into mine. “He says he’s entitled to it. That my dad wronged him by pretending he didn’t exist. He says I’m just the ‘golden daughter,’ handed everything while he got left with nothing.”
I clenched my jaw.
“I don’t give a fuck what he says,” I snapped. “Your father chose you. His will, his shares, his legacy—they belong to you. Not some ghost crawling out of the shadows trying to claim what was never his.”
She pressed her face into my chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.
“I hate that I didn’t tell you earlier,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know how. And I didn’t want to bring him into our world. Into us.”
I cupped her face, lifting it so she had to look at me.
“You don’t have to protect me from this, Ariana,” I said softly. “You never have to protect me from your truth. Whatever comes, we face it together. You and me. Always.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Not from fear.
But from release.
From finally letting it out.
I kissed her. Gentle. Reassuring.
And then I pulled back.
“What’s his name?”
She hesitated. “William.”
Of course it was.
I ran a hand through my hair. “Alright. We start with security. Around your office, everywhere you go. He doesn’t get to catch you off guard again.”
She nodded. “And then?”
“Then,” I said, my voice dropping, “we make sure he knows exactly who the fuck he’s dealing with.”
She smiled, and I felt it—the fire sparking in her again.
The woman I fell in love with.
The one who wasn’t afraid to burn down empires for the people she loved.
“I want to be the one to take him down,” she said, her voice steady now. “But I want you with me.”
“Always,” I said again.
And I meant it.
I'd burn down anyone who dares to touch what belongs to her.
And I'm not bluffing.
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