Chapter 53: A threat
"I already told you I’m not hungry," she repeated, her voice dripping with dry indifference. "Take the plate and go."
She had her iPad pulled up close to her chest, her fingers swiping rapidly across the screen as if she were deeply engrossed in her unfinished work on a drawing app.
She didn’t look up. She acted as though his six-foot-four frame was nothing more than a ghost standing in her bedroom.
Aaron didn’t lose his temper. He looked at the glowing screen, then at her stubbornly turned jaw.
"Look at me," he murmured.
Nothing. She kept swiping, her face set in a hard, angry pout.
Aaron reached down and casually plucked the iPad right out of her hands.
Freya’s head snapped up instantly, her eyes flashing with pure fury. "What are you doing?!"
"Since apparently my face is invisible today, I had to improvise," Aaron said smoothly, sliding the tablet under his arm.
"Give it back!" She reached for it, but he simply took a step back, holding it completely out of reach.
"Talk to me," he said.
"No."
"Then no iPad."
Freya glared at him, her chest rising and falling in quick, angry breaths. "Fine! Keep it! I don’t care!"
She spun around, grabbed her heavy down pillow, pulled it over her face, and buried herself completely under the covers, turning into a motionless lump on the mattress.
Aaron stood there for two seconds, looking at the bundle of blankets.
He quietly placed the iPad back down on the small table next to her untouched food.
Then, without asking, he sat down right on the edge of her mattress, the springs groaning under his weight.
Through the thick pillow, a muffled, furious voice barked, "What are you doing?"
"Well," Aaron said comfortably, leaning back against the bedpost. "Since you refuse to talk to me, I guess I’ll just sit here until you change your mind."
Silence met his words. She didn’t move an inch.
Aaron let out a slow, heavy breath. He knew her stubbornness. He had raised her through it. He knew she could sit under that pillow for two hours just to prove a point.
So he decided to bring out his worst weapon.
Aaron possessed many talents.
He could navigate complex international treaties, he could handle a firearm with terrifying ease and precision, and he could command an entire syndicate without raising his voice.
But he could not sing to save his ass.
In fact, his singing voice was a flat, tone-deaf, terrifyingly deep gravelly rumble that felt like iron scraping against a cement wall.
He knew it. The kids knew it. And he used it without a shred of shame when he needed results.
Aaron took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and hit a long, loud, horrifyingly off-key note.
’"O-o-oh... the stormy sky is blue-u-u..."’
The blanket twitched.
Aaron raised his voice, hitting an even worse note that vibrated painfully through the quiet room.
’"And the wild river flows—"’
"Mishka, stop!" Freya yelled, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Aaron didn’t stop. He leaned in closer toward the lump of blankets, his tone rising into a catastrophic, ear-splitting howl.
’"FLOWS TO THE SEA-E-E—"’
Freya threw the pillow off her face, sitting straight up in bed with her face bright red and her dark hair flying in every direction.
"FINE! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! STOP SINGING! IT HURTS!"
Aaron cut off instantly, closing his mouth with a serene, innocent expression.
"There. That wasn’t so difficult."
Freya glared at him, her heart beating fast from the sudden noise.
Being this close to him, seeing the soft, amused glint in his dark blue eyes, made a sudden, unwanted warmth rush to her cheeks.
She turned her head away quickly, hugging her knees to her chest to hide the blush creeping up her neck.
"I don’t like her," Freya muttered, her voice dropping into a quiet, sour whisper.
Aaron didn’t snap at her. He didn’t jump to defend the woman downstairs, nor did he scold Freya for being rude.
Imstead, he reached out, caught her by the shoulder, and pulled her close, wrapping a broad arm around her back to tuck her against his side... the exact same way he used to hold her when she was ten years old and terrified of the dark.
"I know," Aaron murmured softly into her dark curls.
Freya didn’t pull away. She leaned into his solid warmth, though her tone remained sharp. "Then why is she here?"
"Because she needs somewhere safe," Aaron answered simply. "She needs space to rest."
"There are plenty of safe places!" Freya argued, her fingers knotting into the fabric of his sweatshirt.
"You have five other houses! You have apartments in Europe! You could have put her literally anywhere else in the world! Why did you bring her ’here’?"
Aaron went silent for a moment. His heavy hand rested against her back, his thumb rubbing a slow, comforting circle through her sweater.
Freya was right.
He had secure safehouses scattered across four continents.
He had private security teams that could guard a hotel suite in Paris or a villa in Italy without breaking a sweat. He could have hidden Isabella anywhere on earth.
But when he had carried her out of that burning mess in America, the only thought in his head had been to bring her to the one place he kept his own life.
"It’s complicated, Freya," Aaron said quietly.
"That’s what she said too!" Freya shot back, looking up at him with hot, frustrated eyes.
"What is so complicated about sending her somewhere else? And why do you have to marry her? You always said marriage was stupid! You told us you’d never bring someone into this house like that!"
Aaron looked down at her small, furious face.
The kids had always been the absolute center of his existence.
Every piece of land he seized, every dangerous rival he crushed, every late-night phone call he took, it was all done to build an unbreakable wall around Finn and Freya.
They were the reason he survived the blood and chaos of the Lotus alliance.
Seeing her look at him with such desperate, terrified confusion hit him right in the chest.
"Sometimes," Aaron said softly, his voice dropping into a quiet rumble,
"circumstances change."
Freya stared at him, her hazel eyes searching his face. "You used to say you didn’t do relationships."
Aaron let out a small, faint breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "People change."
As he said it, something shifted in his face. It was tiny... just a faint softening around his jaw, a momentary quietness in his dark eyes as the image of Isabella laughing on the terrace flashed through his mind.
Freya caught it instantly.
It was like a tiny dagger going straight into her chest.
She had known Aaron for years. She knew every single line on his face, every drop in his tone, every subtle shift in his mood.
She had never, not once, seen him look like that when thinking about another human being.
The realization hit her with absolute, terrifying clarity.
This wasn’t just about protecting a weak girl from America. This wasn’t just a favor or a business arrangement. Aaron felt something for Isabella.
And if Aaron felt something for her... then Isabella wasn’t just a guest. She was a threat. She was going to take him away.
"She’s going to replace us," Freya whispered, her voice cracking slightly as the terrifying thought slipped out before she could stop it.
Aaron’s eyebrows pulled together sharply. "Freya. No one is replacing you."
"You don’t know that!" she cried out, her stubborn front completely breaking down.
"Freya," Aaron said, his voice dropping so low, so incredibly soft and firm that it instantly cut through her panic.
Hearing him say her name like that... with that deep, absolute certainty that had protected her from every storm in her life, made her throat tighten.
He was the only adult in her life who hadn’t abandoned her. The history and pain they shared together connected them in ways words couldn’t describe.
Freya didn’t say another word. She lunged forward, throwing her arms tightly around his wide waist and burying her face directly into his stomach, clutching his shirt with both hands like a terrified child.
"You could have at least told me first," she mumbled bitterly against his shirt, her voice muffled. "You just showed up with her."
Aaron stayed completely still for a second, surprised by the sudden, needy gesture.
It felt so much like the old days... back when she was much younger, sobbing into his coat after a bad nightmare, refusing to let go until the sun came up.
A quiet warmth softened his hard chest. He raised his hand, sliding his fingers gently through her thick curls, stroking her hair in long, rhythmic motions.
"I’m sorry," Aaron murmured softly into the quiet room. "I should have given you a heads-up. What can I do to get your forgiveness?"
"Send her away," Freya whimpered into his waist, her grip tightening.