Chapter 6 Sep 12, 2025 The Pearson estate consumed my weekend like a slow-acting poison. Saturday's dinner performance featured crystal glasses, seven courses, and my mother's surgical dissection of every detail. About my posture, my weight, my insufficient enthusiasm for wedding planning. "Victoria called three times this week," Mother announced over the fish course. "She's concerned about the delay in setting announcement dates." "Of course she is." I smiled, the expression as practiced as a ballet position. By Monday morning, I was desperate for something that didn't taste like obligation. I messaged Aiden at seven sharp, attaching a draft I'd deliberately sabotaged. Me: Professor, I found conflicting data on the Morrison acquisition timeline. The board minutes say March, but the SEC filing indicates May. His response came within minutes. Aiden : First, stop calling me Professor in messages. We're past that pretense. Second, Morrison's board couldn't organize a coffee run, let alone coordinate their story. Trust the filing. Me : What should I call you then? Supreme Leader? Master of the Strategic Universe? Aiden : Aiden works. Though I've been called worse by better. Me : Better than me? Now I'm wounded. Aiden : Impossible. You're the most interesting disaster to walk into my classroom this semester. Me : Disaster? That's harsh, even for you. Aiden : Fine. Controlled chaos. Beautiful chaos, if we're being specific. Me: Beautiful? Are we allowed to be specific about that? Aiden : We're allowed to be honest. Your mind is beautiful. The rest is just fortunate packaging. By Thursday, our message thread had evolved into something dangerous. He sent business articles at midnight with commentary like 'This CEO's strategy is almost as transparent as that dress you wore to Apex .' I responded with hostile takeover reports, highlighting passages about consuming the competition from within. 'Your acquisition model has a fatal flaw ,' I typed while walking through Carroll Hall Thursday afternoon. 'You assume the target wants to resist. What if they want to be consumed?' 'Then it's not an acquisition ,' came his immediate response. 'It's mutual destruction. Much more interesting.' Me : Destruction can be creative. Sometimes you have to burn down the old to build something new. Aiden : Careful, Ruby. That sounds like you're planning arson. Me : Only metaphorical. Though I do look good in flames- The collision sent my phone skittering across marble. Professor Whitman-ancient, furious, and built like a scarecrow made of tweed-loomed over me. "INEXCUSABLE!" His voice echoed off the vaulted ceilings. "You children, slaves to your screens! No awareness, no basic courtesy, no comprehension of-" "She was solving a problem I was assigned." Aiden materialized from nowhere, retrieving my phone with fluid grace. When he handed it back, his fingers deliberately grazed mine, the contact lasting a heartbeat too long. "Professor Whitman." Aiden's tone balanced deference with subtle mockery. "My apologies. Miss Pearson was working through a particularly complex acquisition scenario. My fault for demanding immediate responses." "Green." Whitman's mustache twitched. "Still using those unconventional methods, I see." "Whatever works." Aiden stepped closer to me, close enough that I could smell him-something dark and expensive that made my pulse stutter. "Though I'd argue that multitasking demonstrates admirable efficiency." Whitman huffed away, muttering about the death of academia. His calm had shielded me, and the heat that followed flushed more than my cheeks. Protection shouldn't feel this electric. The corridor emptied. Aiden turned to me, his body angling to block the space, creating an intimate pocket in the public hallway. "Mutual destruction?" His voice dropped low, dangerous. "Finish that thought." "Here?" My breath caught as he moved closer. "Why not?" His hand found the wall behind me, not quite caging but definitely claiming territory. "Unless you're scared." "I'm never scared." I lifted my chin, defiant. "The target makes herself essential-to operations, reputation, the entire ecosystem. Then she corrupts it all from within. By the time they realize what's happening, acquiring her means swallowing poison." "And if they decide the poison's worth it?" His other hand rose to the wall, officially trapping me. "If they want to burn with her?" "Then we find out who has the higher heat tolerance." My voice came out breathless. "Fuck." The profanity escaped him, raw and unguarded. "You can't say things like that." "Why not?" I pressed closer, feeling his control fracture. "Afraid you'll do something about it?" "Ruby." My name on his lips sounded like both warning and prayer. "This is-" "What? Inappropriate? Unethical? Dangerous?" My hands found his chest, feeling his heartbeat race under Egyptian cotton. "Tell me which rule we're breaking, Professor. I'll take notes." Students' voices echoed from the adjoining hallway. Aiden stepped back so fast I felt cold air rush between us. "My class starts in three minutes." His voice was rough, unsteady. "Running away?" "Strategic retreat." He straightened his tie with hands that weren't quite steady. "There's a difference." "Coward." His smile turned predatory. "Finish your answer about mutual destruction. In messenger. Include specifics about implementation." He walked away, but the look he threw over his shoulder was pure promise. I made it home on unsteady legs, then jumped when the doorbell rang immediately. Alex stood in my doorway with Thai takeout, his smile hopeful and pathetic. "You haven't answered my texts. I brought dinner-that green curry you love from the place on 82nd." "Alex, this isn't-" "Please." He stepped forward, and muscle memory made me step back, letting him in. "Just dinner. We need to talk about us, about the wedding, about everything." "There's nothing to talk about." "You're still wearing the ring." He caught my hand, thumb brushing the diamond solitaire I'd forgotten to remove. "That means something." "It means I forgot-" He kissed me, sudden and desperate, and five years of history crashed over me. His hands were familiar on my waist, his mouth knew exactly how to make me respond. "I miss you," he whispered against my lips. "I miss us. Let me remind you how good we are together." I should have stopped him. Instead, I let anger and longing fuse into something else: I wanted to believe in us -love was asking for proof right now. Alex was already lifting me, carrying me to the bedroom with practiced ease. I should have stopped him. Instead, I let anger and frustration combust into something else. "Prove it," I challenged, yanking at his shirt. "Show me what I'm supposedly missing." He eased me onto the bed like something he meant to keep, steadier than I remembered. His hands found their way with the old certainty, and heat rose fast, clean. "Tell me what you want," he murmured against my cheek. "You know," I said, breath catching. "Don't stop." He listened with his fingertips, patient and sure, and the room narrowed to touch and breath. "God, I missed you," slipped out of me before I could think. "I know," he said, a rough smile in his voice. "I missed you too." The rest was a quiet rush-familiar, right-until thoughts gave way to feelings, and I remembered why he alone could relax me with just his fingers, which were already in my panties. "Damn, you're so wet," Alex growled. "It feels so good to be inside you again and know that you've been waiting for me."