LIVELY POV

The meeting was in the same hotel we were staying at, so Keenan drove directly there. Upon arrival, someone appeared with pairs of shoes, a blazer for Aaron, and a blanket for me, as Keenan had ordered during a phone call while driving. The exchange was made through the driver's side with Keenan, as there were reporters outside aware that most of the Wallaces were staying at the location.

It was exactly eight, the time for the meeting. Laughing, Aaron swiftly slipped into the shoes, took off his soaking hoodie, and put on the blazer over his wet and clinging white t-shirt.

Despite the car's heater, Aaron's damp hair was tousled and flattened, with sticky strands glued against his face, droplets of water still visible. It was unlike Aaron Wallace's usual public appearance, but god, he was so appealing.

Blushing, I looked away, took off my coat, and wrapped myself in the blanket. We stepped out of the car. Flashes of lights and questions rained down on us. I had my head partly shielded by the blanket as Aaron directed us inside, hand in hand.

"You go do your thing. I will be in the room," I told him once we left the chaos outside, now with only the calm music playing in the background.

"It will be fifteen minutes. Come with me," he pleaded, his eyes full of urgency.

"Aaron, your parents will see us together. I am the reason you skipped the exhibition and the ball, and are now late for the meeting."

"I am never hiding you from any of them. They should know we are together. I didn't need to be anywhere else but around you," he insisted. I couldn't say no to the look in his eyes.

"I won't sit with you. I will wait," I suggested, and he nodded in agreement, a smile resurfacing on his face.

Smiling, I followed him, and we were led by the man who is always around Mister Robert Wallace, similar to how Keenan is to Aaron.

My heart was throbbing at the thought of encountering Aaron's father again, but for Aaron, I had to go. It was in the ample dining area of the hotel. There were some other guests in the room at their tables.

"I will sit here," I told Aaron, and he nodded with a reassuring smile and let go of me at my stop. He walked towards the occupied table with some influential-looking people, where I could spot Mister Robert Wallace.

Aaron arrived, and they stood up, shaking hands. He was telling them something that seemed to impress them, but Robert Wallace didn't look moved. His expression showed smoldering anger at his son's unkempt appearance, which he struggled to contain. The group then sat back down.

Robert Wallace looked around until our eyes met. I didn't dare study him; I looked away, focusing on my breath as it seemed the smart thing to do in this situation. There was a man attentively playing the piano, so I concentrated on him instead.

A few minutes later, a waiter brought me a cup of tea I hadn't ordered.

My brows pulled together as I stared up at him, about to tell him there must be a misunderstanding.

"From Mister Wallace," the young man told me. I instantly looked over to the table I had been avoiding.

Aaron was beaming from a distance, barely paying attention to the meeting happening around him.

Turning red, I placed my chin in my palms, smiling back at him, and mouthed a "thank you,"

The warm tea accompanied me until eight-fifteen, when Aaron and Robert Wallace were on their feet, bidding farewell to their guests, who seemed satisfied with whatever conclusion they had reached. They followed another passage I reckoned had an exit, and then Aaron started toward me. I got up the moment I noticed he was approaching, but my smile faltered as I realized his father was now hurrying to meet up.

"Let's go. Do not turn," Aaron firmly told me, taking my hand and speeding away from his father, who remained quiet so far, probably because of the audience in the dining area. He didn't hold back at all once we were out of sight.

"Look at you, this isn't the son I raised," the man called, but Aaron didn't turn back. He kept us moving. I didn't know what to do. "Showing up to the meeting like some homeless man. You are no longer a child. You will be twenty-four, and this is what adulthood means to you. Just this morning, I thought I could be proud of you, but you ran off in the middle of your exhibition seminar, leaving me to attend to people I spent years building relationships with so they could do business with you."

The anger venting continued. Aaron wisely chose not to take the elevator, avoiding the risk of being stuck in a confined space with his father. Instead, we opted for the stairs, as the hotel didn't have many floors. Occasionally, we came across people and only then did Robert Wallace shut up, picking up again when there was no one around. For Aaron, it was like his father wasn't there. He kept his head straight and kept walking at a fast pace. I could feel the tension in his hold, but he wasn't hurting me. It was more like he was hurting, and even though all this was about me, it was him I felt bad for. I wanted so badly to reach that room so I could hug him.

And we did. He brought out the keycard from his pocket, swiped it, opened the door, and pulled me in.

"Do not say I didn't warn you," was what Robert Wallace said last before Aaron shut the door, terminating the man's voice from our heads.

Tired out, I leaned back against the door, breathing to calm down from having to rush up four flights of stairs, the words my ears had heard, and the things my eyes had seen, all contributed too.

Aaron walked into the room. Without a word, he took off the blazer and tossed it on the sofa, leaning on the arm to pull off the shoes. When he was done, he got up and started toward me, predatory. I straightened up at the look in his eyes that screamed hunger as if he was about to pounce.

He held the hem of his white t-shirt and gradually pulled it up over his head. I stood still, wide-eyed, my throat dry, my heart beating too fast I may faint, and a churning feeling in my stomach I couldn't explain, at the sight of his smooth, chiseled torso. Everything he did seemed in slow motion. I enjoyed the view but also wanted a hold of him, I was desperate for it. His hair was messy, framing his face. With every step he took, my body reacted crazily, wanting him, eager to feel him, to connect with him.

My heart was racing more than humanly possible; there was a throbbing ache between my inner thighs.

He reached over and pressed me against the door. I don't know how, but the lights went off, except for a streak of light coming from the slightly open bathroom door. I was okay with this level of dimness. What moved me more was the fact that he remembered my boundaries and was acting on what I offered without pressing for more. As I pushed up on my toes, longing for a taste of him, his lips met mine halfway, and his fingers slipped through mine.

•••

***

We were in bed, naked. More precisely, I had Aaron's t-shirt on, but other than that, we had nothing on except the linens. He was cuddling me closer like I was going to run away, his head on my chest, his hair in my face. He was breathing heavily, shuddering a bit even. I knew it wasn't normal.

"Aaron, you are scaring me," I mumbled, weaving my fingers through his hair.

"Uh—I am sorry." His voice was hoarse, and he sniffed. I was right; it wasn't normal. He was crying.

"Hey, what is it?" My heart clenched as I pulled his head back slightly so I could look at him. The nightstand lamp was on, and when he peeked up, I felt a punch right into my soul. His eyes were red and tear-stained. "No, Aaron. If it's about your parents, we can find some way out. You don't have to worry," I pleaded, doing all I could not to cry, but my eyes were already watering.

Smiling painfully, he brought a hand to my cheek. "You are too good. I don't deserve you."

I blinked, confused, unable to form coherent sentences. Is this why he is crying?

He swallowed roughly, gazing at me. "Liv, it might look like I can give you the world, and I can. As far as emotions, money, and power are concerned. But there's one thing I can't give you, and it will deprive you of the life you want." A tear rolled down his cheek, and my breath caught in my throat.

"Aaron, shouldn't we be past that by now? You have me, and I have you. That is all that matters."

He shook his head, more tears spilling from his eyes. "I can't give you a child."

What?

"I've been undergoing treatment and tests for a few years now. Today, the tenth doctor, who was my last hope, called and said I would never have a child of my own. I will never be a father." He laughed, taking his hand from my face and rubbing his eyes. "God is punishing me. I am so useless. But that's not even it. I've seen you with Bubble. I've seen how you love him, how good you will be as a mother, how much you deserve that joy. And I can't give you that. I can't." His voice broke, and he cried.

This was the lowest I'd ever seen him. I was in shock and didn't know where to begin. I just hugged him, running my fingers through his hair and focusing on breathing as a flood of emotions overwhelmed me. Tears streamed down my face, and I felt intense agony in my chest.

Ever since we parted, I'd wanted him to experience pain so severe that he would remember the last look on my face when he shut the door the last time we met. But now, knowing it was my fault he was in this pain, I revoked that wish. I didn't want him to hurt anymore.

"I understand it is not fair for you. You deserve everything, Liv. At some point, you will dream of a family. You will want one. So I have to give you the option to leave if you want to. I won't hold you, I swear. But I—." He stops himself from saying it.

"Aaron, I am here. I am not leaving."

I held him closer, feeling excruciating pain striking every fiber of my being.

"I can't give you everything. I don't deserve you," he muffled into my chest.

"Shhh... I am here."

I had brought this upon him. I barely slept through the night, even when he did. I spent the night praying to God to cure him, to bring joy to him, and to make him the man for me.

***

My eyes opened to the bright atmosphere of the room. It was morning. I must have finally fallen asleep while crying.

I spun around. There was no Aaron. I assumed he was in the bathroom, so I got out of bed and went to the coat on the sofa that must have been returned with the high heels by Keenan, searching the pocket for my phone. I pulled it out and tapped on the screen. Nothing came up; the battery must have died.

Looking around for my luggage, my eyes darted to it. I rushed to find my charger, as the one on the nightstand, which I assumed belonged to Aaron, had a different port from mine. My charger was in my bag. I set everything up and waited for the phone to show any sign of life, but it remained black for the next couple of minutes. This doesn't make sense.

The rain last night couldn't have damaged it, could it?
I waited for a few more minutes, plugging and unplugging, until I finally gave up and concluded the phone had stopped working.

Just great!

My head was in my palm when I heard the entrance door open. I knew it was no one other than Aaron, and when I looked up, I was right. He looked sweaty and energetic, a bit flushed too, wearing a short-sleeved compression t-shirt and track pants, holding a bottle of water with AirPods that he was now taking off at the sight of me.

"You are awake," he said with his customary composed and admiring smile, taking a sip from the bottle of water and setting it down as he approached me.

I nodded, unable to keep my eyes off his heaving pectorals bulging beneath the tight t-shirt. "Where have you been?"

He reached the foot of the bed and began crawling toward me, causing my body to respond. My breath quickened at the sight of this handsome man with sharp, alluring hazel eyes preying on me in broad daylight.

"I went for a run," he said. He lay on his back, resting his head on my tightly closed thighs since I wasn't wearing any panties. He brought my hands, which were hanging in the air, down to his chest while he continued to stare at me from below. "You smell so delicious."

A nervous laugh left me. "It's your t-shirt from last night."

His eyes rolled, and he took my hand, bringing it to his mouth. He nibbled on my palm teasingly, stirring something in my stomach. He smirked at my furrowed brows, which I was unaware of how they came to be. "It's you," he said. "You taste so good."

Warmth spread across my face. He just lay here and comfortably flirts with me.

His seductive smirk remained as his partially open eyes observed his fingers trailing along my slender arm, slowly moving to my shoulder and then down to the curve of my breast. I trembled in anticipation.

"You like it when I touch you," he said quietly.

'Play it cool,' I mentally advised myself. I tried to act casually, pretending not to be affected by his voice, eyes, and touch, but it was a pathetic lie that he had already figured out.

"Your breathing changes excitedly whenever I look at you, and you tremble beneath my touch every time. When I kiss you or enter you, you're breathless."

He's got slutty lips with slutty words, so full and of a vibrant shade, I ached to savor. My eyes fixated on them until something rang.

My phone, hopefully, even though it was a foreign sound I couldn't discern. I looked over to it and took hold, tapping the screen. Blank.

"Arghh!"

"What is it?" Aaron asked, concerned, his fingers proceeding to draw subtle curves over the swell of my breast.

"Can I borrow your phone to text my mom? I think the rain ruined mine." It was probably midnight there, but I wanted to check on them.

"Yes." He searched through his pocket just as the door opened unexpectedly.

My eyes darted up widely at the fear of Mister and Missus Wallace, but Keenan showed up instead. I had always been fascinated by how he had a keycard to this room. I understand it's for security, but it feels intrusive. What if he walked in on us naked? Having sex, something like that? But since Aaron didn't seem to care, I wouldn't make it an issue of discussion. It had merely crossed my mind in curiosity.

Aaron got up, handed over his phone to me, and advanced toward Keenan, starting inquisitively, "Keenan, why hasn't our breakfast been delivered as I ordered?"

While they discussed, I used the time to send a brief message to Mom to read for Bubble, telling her it was Aaron's phone, so as not to return messages to it. Then I deleted everything. Taking back my focus to Aaron, who was just done with the conversation.

"Oh, and Keenan, get Liv a new phone," he casually urged, and the man acknowledged with a nod before leaving the room.

"You didn't have to," I started, but he didn't reply. He looked a bit conflicted. He settled back by the edge of the bed, next to me, his head lowered between his shoulders, and he took my hand, playing with the tips.

"We are having a family breakfast in the diner, on Grandpa's orders. I can't say no to it," he regretfully announced. "Everyone will be there. You don't have to go. You can stay here if you want. I will get them to send your breakfast." He was trying to protect me from his family.

"No, I will go. At some point, I have to start learning to be around them anyway." I smiled reassuringly when he tilted his head at my decision.

"You sure?" he worriedly asked.

"Yes. Aaron, what more can they do? I've heard the worst."

He faintly smiles at me, as if there's more he isn't saying, but I don't press to know. I lean my head on his shoulder and heave a sigh.

We get ready within thirty minutes. Aaron gentlemanly lets me use the bathroom first, and I dress modestly in one of the outfits I brought along. He changes back into his formal attire, looking just as groomed and cultured as I know Aaron Wallace to be.

He holds my hand like it was made to fit his, and we leave the room together. Stepping out of the elevator, we come across Keenan in the lobby, and he follows behind us, informing Aaron about things he should know, but I don't pay attention.

"And sir, some of your cousins have already left for Lake Como this morning," he adds as we approach the diner from last night.

"Our flight should be ready; we are leaving after breakfast too," Aaron says, taking off his sunglasses as we approach the full table. Seated there are his grandfather, his parents, aunts, and uncles, except for Steven Wallace and his new wife. However, his stepdaughter was here, and Emersyn, who was the only one smiling at me.

"Come over here," Mister Thomas Wallace says to Aaron, setting down the tableware and opening his arms.

Aaron lets go of my hand, walks to his grandfather, and hugs him as he requires.

"I couldn't be here yesterday, but I am here now. I hope you're not mad at me?" the old man says worriedly. Aaron pulls back but still maintains a lean, matching his grandfather's seating height.

"We've got to centralize on tracks," he smiles at the old man, who now seems relieved, his eyes shifting to me.

"Oh, come here too, my dear," he reaches out his hands, and I nervously advance, avoiding the death glares from the people at the table.

Aaron steps aside, and I hold out my hand for a handshake, but the old man's face contorts in disapproval. "What is this? Come here, give me a hug," he says, and I smile at his playfulness. I incline and hug him just as Aaron did.

"Very well, it's nice to see you two together," he says when I straighten up, signaling for us to sit. Aaron pulls out a chair for me next to the quiet girl who is also new to the family and seems to have already lost her appetite. Her head is down, and she doesn't spare me a glance, but I wouldn't say she has anything against me. The whole time I've encountered her, she has been mostly like this, in her world.

"Hey, love!" Emersyn excitedly says to me, stretching her hand from the seat on the other side of the girl. I take her fingers for a light squeeze with a polite smile.

"Look, Robert, your son remembered he's not Tarzan anymore and finally put on shoes," Kathleen Wallace mocks from across the table.

I hear her but don't look up as the waiter begins preparing our plates.

"You could at least have him wear shoes if he's become too idiotic under your leash to know the basic requirements of a human being," Cynthia Wallace speaks up, directing her words at me. "Bernard," she calls, and a newspaper is brought in front of Aaron.

The headline shows a picture of him and me on the street from yesterday.

Just great. Apparently, there will always be news about us every morning.

"Kids, I understand you just want to have fun, but there are things you can't do when your life is often under the spotlight," Mister Thomas Wallace starts. "Aaron, you are aware of that. I didn't expect this behavior from you. For one, running off from what you built, and at least doing it with finesse, not barefoot in the rain. This is so unprofessional and reckless for our brands, not to mention your health. And Lively," at the mention of my name, I flinch. Aaron might have noticed because he set his hand on my thigh, squeezing it. "I understand you do not know how it works in this family, but I expect you to learn with time, okay dear?" he gently says, and I nod with my head down, trying to avoid the sight of the hatred in the eyes of the people around the table.

"I apologize," Aaron says, his voice stable but tight.

"Moving forward, a plane brand with the family name? I never saw that coming. You bested all. This is a big achievement, and once again another score for the entire Wallace. I can't tell you how incredibly proud I am to have witnessed this freshly added title to our name," the old man continues, praising Aaron.

"Thank you." Aaron's response is clipped, revealing his underlying frustration.

"I have heard you've been thoroughly funded by reliable sponsors for the model design. So, attending office begins next month?"

"Yes."

"That's good to know. Good job, you too, Robert."

"Thanks, Dad," Robert Wallace speaks publicly for the first time since we arrived.

"Now that everything is working out as you wanted, what are the plans for the wedding?"

The question takes me by surprise. I finally look up at Aaron's grandfather.

"We haven't started yet," I tell him, given that Aaron isn't going to say anything. I glance at him, and he seems restrained and edgy.

"You have to. The key to emotional intimacy is spending time together, and you need to know that time doesn't wait. You young people need to take the opportunity of now and enjoy all of it," Thomas Wallace advises. "Besides, I told you I am so eager for a new generation in this family. I am not getting any younger, and all I am asking before my death is to see your child, Aaron. That would make me the happiest man alive."

Knowing what I do about Aaron, I feel gutted. It is obvious he hasn't told anyone at this table, and my heart hurts so much. I hear him swallow, his breathing intensifying. I take his hand on my thigh with both hands, hoping he feels some comfort from my reassurance.

His grandfather continues, "Four generations, we could have an all-men portrait, couldn't we, Robert?"

"Yes, Dad."

Maybe this breakfast was a bad idea.

"Speaking of that, Khalif Singh was at the exhibition yesterday. I heard he bid the most for one of the sample aircraft," Aaron's mother says sophisticatedly.

"Hmm." Someone on her side responds.

"And he didn't come alone," she continues. My eyes rolled inwardly to the back of my head. Here we go again. "He had his son with him."

Okay, now that is new.

"Yes, Damian Singh, isn't it? He's all grown up into a handsome young man. We talked at the ball. What an idealistic, charming man he is, with so much potential for his family's oil business." Kathleen Wallace carries on with the conversation, and seeing the attention lifted from us, I am able to breathe a little.

"If you ask me, I would say he's a suitable match for our beautiful darling, Emersyn. He has composure, just like she was raised to have."

What is it with this family and their obsession with forcing their children to marry into power despite all that they have?

"Well, good to know, Aunty Cynthia, but I am not interested in moving to India," Emersyn remarks sarcastically.

"He has lived his whole life in London."

"I am not moving to London either," Emersyn repeats in an unflappable tone.

"Emy, darling, this is a good opportunity," Aaron's mother persists. "As you can see, not all of us are fortunate enough to find such a well-off family for partners."

"Cynthia, I do not think this is your concern," Emersyn's father interjects, backing his daughter, and his wife intervenes too. "But darling, Cynthia has a point."

"You talk of concern as if you weren't the one who concocted a necklace fit only for royalty, which ended up on the neck of my son's fleeting gold digger." Aaron's mother derogatorily remarked barefacedly, without a care in the world.

My jaw drops; I feel my soul leave my body.

"Aunty Cynthia," Emersyn begins, but Aaron firmly yells, "Mom," slamming the table. I jerked slightly.

"Aaron, composure," his grandfather warns immediately.

"We are leaving," Aaron grumbles, taking my hand again, my grip loosening on his.

"You are not dismissed. I said compose yourself," Thomas Wallace emphasizes, seething quietly as there are eyes around, many of which Aaron had probably drawn with his outburst.

"I am not staying here around a table of people who do not respect my decisions. I do not see a family here, only a group of tormentors and gossipers without empathy. I will not be involved in this. We are leaving for Italy. I am sorry, Grandpa, but I refuse to have Lively endure these cruel insults because my family decided it is their duty to organize my future even though I am no longer a child and I am well aware of what makes me happy." Aaron speaks slowly and quietly, as though trying to control his rage because he fears himself too. The table falls silent, including Thomas Wallace.

With my hand in his, he gets up and helps me to my feet.

"Wait for me. I am coming along. I love you, Grandpa," Emersyn rushes, grabbing her purse and phone.

As we turn to leave, I hear Emersyn's mother call, "Hey, not so quick, take Steven's things with you."

Could these fully grown women be any more condescending to human beings below their level? It was disgusting.

We didn't go back upstairs; our things had already been moved to the minivan, Keenan briefed us. Aaron, holding my hand, puts on his sunglasses, preparing for the reporters as we step outside.

We are bombarded by crowds and questions and rush into the vehicle along with Emersyn and Steven Wallace's stepdaughter before the door closes and the car starts.

On the middle desk is a small white gift bag. Aaron jerks his head for me to take it. It is the first time his smile returns since the breakfast where we didn't eat anything. Curious, I take the bag and slowly pull out what is inside.

The latest iPhone.

Surprised, my eyes narrow over to Aaron.

"Your phone was damaged by the rain, and you need to stay in contact with your family," he explains.

I know that. I am just surprised he was considerate enough to remember that I needed it.

I wanted to hug him and kiss him, but we were not alone, so I shyly whispered, "Thank you," and he smiled, putting back his sunglasses that he had taken off to speak with me, and rested his head back for the remainder of the drive until we are facing a helicopter, which has pilots this time.

Aaron was quiet next to me. I wonder why. The constant thought that he was bothered about being deprived of having children worried me. We wore headsets for the noise and spent four hours in the air. All the while, I sum up the possibility of what our life would be if he knew Bubble was his. Should I tell him? Does he deserve it? Should I wait a bit more to see if he's worthy of Bubble? Does he really want me and this whole thing we are doing? Or is this some sort of repenting experience for him, where he believes that if he comes back to the pregnant girl he abandoned, he will find peace within himself, forgiveness from me, and perhaps some sort of miracle will happen for him?

I can't help feeling this whirlwind of dilemmas and doubts. It is eating me alive, and Aaron's agony is so hard for me to bear.

We arrive in the middle of a beautiful sea, surrounded by huge hills, greenery, and residential houses in the distance. The helicopter begins to descend, and my eyes widen, searching for a landing spot. Then I see it: a superyacht below us.

It is crazy. There are no words to describe it. My mouth fell open, and I looked back at Aaron wide-eyed. He was already smiling, watching me.

"We are getting on that?" I asked him, my heart racing with elation, and he smirked cockily.

Excited, I turn back to the window. Steven Wallace's stepdaughter is gaping in awe too. I smiled at her, and she returned it.