Chapter Twenty-Three

Aurora’s Pov

I woke up feeling much better than yesterday, though a lingering sense of exhaustion still clung to me. As the sunlight streamed through the cracks in my curtain, I stretched and let out a soft sigh. Today was the day before the trip, and there was so much work left undone from my absence. I couldn’t afford to slack off any longer.

After dragging myself out of bed, I quickly got ready. I opted for one of the new outfits Ryan had bought me, a simple t-shirt paired with a high-waisted skirt. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I had to do a double take. The outfit fit perfectly, accentuating my figure in a way I wasn’t used to. It felt strange but good, like I was seeing a version of myself I hadn’t known existed.

"Wow," I murmured, brushing invisible lint off my skirt. “Is that really me?”

Slipping on a pair of matching shoes, I smoothed down my hair, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.

But the moment I opened it, I froze.

Ryan stood there, his hand raised mid-air as if about to knock. My breath caught in my throat.

“Sir…uh, Ryan,” I stammered, my voice shaky. “What are you doing here?”

His dark eyes bore into mine, and his lips curved into something that was almost a smirk. “Do you have a problem inviting me in, or are you just going to stand there questioning me?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I-I’m sorry! Please, come in.”

I stepped aside, my pulse quickening as he entered. He glanced around the small space with a look I couldn’t quite place—disdain mixed with something else. His expression shifted so quickly that I almost thought I imagined it.

“Good morning,” I said nervously as he made his way to the couch and sat down.

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryan replied, his tone even. “This is your home. It’s your right to ask questions.”

I noticed his expression again, the faint flicker of disgust when he mentioned home. My chest tightened, but I chose not to dwell on it.

“Right,” I muttered, clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking. Why was I so nervous around him?

It was only then that I noticed he was holding a small bag. He handed it to me without a word.

“What’s this?” I asked, accepting it cautiously.

“Breakfast,” he said simply.

“You didn’t have to,” I said, shaking my head.

“I did,” he replied firmly. “Take it.”

I hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Thank you. Let me just put this in the kitchen, and I’ll get plates for us.”

“No,” Ryan interjected. “I brought it for you.”

“Well, I can’t eat while you sit here and watch me. That’s...weird,” I said, my nervousness giving way to a hint of defiance.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Fine. Get the plates.”

I hurried to the kitchen, trying to calm my racing heart. What was he doing here, really? And why did his presence have such a strong effect on me?

I grabbed the plates from the kitchen, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the unsettling nerves twisting in my stomach. After portioning out the food, I placed Ryan’s plate in front of him along with a glass of water.

"Here you go," I said softly, placing the utensils neatly beside his plate before returning to my seat with my own.

We began eating, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing second. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was… something. I kept sneaking glances at him, unable to help myself. He was mesmerizing.

Ryan wasn’t just handsome, he was beautiful, in an almost otherworldly way. His sharp jawline, his sculpted features, the way his long hair framed his face. It all seemed unfair. No one should look that good.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed when his deep voice cut through the quiet.

"Do I have a stain on my shirt or something?"

I blinked, startled. "What?"

He smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You keep staring at me. Do I have something on my shirt?"

My face burned with embarrassment. "N-no! I wasn’t staring!"

"Sure," he said, his tone teasing.

I laughed nervously, the sound a little too loud. After that, I focused on my food, determined not to look up again. When we finished eating, I gathered the plates and took them to my small kitchen.

When I returned, Ryan leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over me. "You’re dressed up. Where were you heading?"

I paused, glancing down at my outfit. "To the office. I have some documents to catch up on."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Um…" I hesitated. "You told me you’d see me tomorrow. I thought it was for work, so…"

He interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "No, I told you I’d see you tomorrow because I was coming here to pick you up. We need to go open your new account. Don’t you remember me saying that?"

"Oh," I said, feeling slightly foolish. "I must have misunderstood. Sorry, Ryan."

He waved it off. "Don’t apologize. But you don’t need to stress yourself out. I meant it when I said you shouldn’t overwork."

"Okay," I murmured.

Ryan gave me a long look, then said, "Do you want your food to digest, or should we leave now?"

"Let’s go now," I replied quickly, eager to shift the focus away from my awkwardness.

He nodded and stood gracefully from his seat. I grabbed my bag, casting one last glance at him as he moved toward the door. He really was striking, like something out of a dream. I shook my head, trying to banish the thought before he noticed me staring again.

As I followed him, I accidentally knocked my bag to the floor. The strap caught my ankle, and I stumbled. Before I could hit the ground, Ryan’s strong arms wrapped around me, catching me effortlessly.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

His golden-brown eyes locked with mine, and I felt as if the world had faded away. His gaze was intense, filled with something I couldn’t quite place. My breath hitched as I took in the details of his face,the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the softness of his lips, the slight scrunch of his brow.

I couldn’t move. It was like I was frozen, trapped in the moment. My pulse raced as if something unseen was pulling me toward him.

"You should be more careful," he murmured, his voice low and almost… gentle.

"I—I’m sorry," I stuttered, forcing myself to break eye contact.

He let me go, stepping back as if nothing had happened. My knees felt weak, but I straightened myself quickly, brushing imaginary dust off my skirt.

"Let’s go," I said, trying to sound composed, though my heart was still racing.

With that, we headed out, but the moment lingered in my mind, replaying over and over as if I were trying to make sense of it.