Chereads / Alpha CEO / Chapter 40 - Chapter 40 - Aftermath Rush

Chapter 40 - Chapter 40 - Aftermath Rush

The cool air hit my cheeks as I stumbled out the back door of the Museum, the clack of my heels an erratic heartbeat against the pavement. Fumbling for my phone, I ordered a taxi, my hands trembling not from the chill but from the aftershocks of what had just transpired.

"Never again," I whispered to myself, sliding into the back seat of the waiting cab. The driver, a middle-aged man with a kind face and eyes that didn't pry, nodded at me through the rearview mirror as we merged into the night's sparse traffic.

As buildings and light blurred past, the intimate snapshots of Alarick and me danced behind my eyelids, unbidden yet vivid. It was as if my mind was a projector stuck on a loop, replaying scenes I both craved and regretted. This clarity, this gut-wrenching lucidity that now coursed through me, it screamed that tonight was a mistake—a delicious, undeniable mistake.

"Are you alright, miss?" the driver asked, his voice cutting through the montage of memories. 

"Fine, just tired," I lied, smoothing a hand over my disheveled hair. In truth, I was anything but fine. My heart raced, not from desire but from a dawning sense of consequence.

 I leaned my head against the window, watching the city give way to the quieter streets of my neighborhood. Guilt gnawed at me, a reminder that in the light of day, I was Lina, the professional, the reliable one. Not the Lina who got carried away by passion with someone like Alarick—someone so entangled in my work life, someone so dangerously alluring.

 "Here's good," I said, breaking the silence as the taxi pulled up to my building. I paid the fare, avoiding the driver's knowing gaze, and slipped out into the safety of darkness.

 Once inside my apartment, the stillness enveloped me. Alone, I allowed myself a moment to breathe, to let the façade of collectedness crumble just a little. Tomorrow, I would have to face Rawson, my boss, whose trust I valued and needed. And then there was Alarick, his brother, whose presence I'd have to evade at all costs.

 "Boundaries," I muttered, tracing the line of my jaw in the mirror, steeling myself for the days ahead. "It's all about setting boundaries."

 The dim reflection offered no answers, only the stark reality of a woman caught between desire and duty, between impulse and integrity. As night deepened around me, I vowed to fortify the walls around my heart, to keep my professional life unsullied by personal indiscretions.

 The click of the lock echoed in the empty hallway as I eased my apartment door open. The silence that greeted me was punctuated by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant murmur of the city beyond my window. It was odd, the absence of laughter or chatter, no sign of Melissa's late-night snack raids or Joy's penchant for post-party deconstruction. Sara, ever the night owl, would usually be draped over the couch, her eyes glued to some foreign film on her laptop until she fell asleep. But tonight, nothing.

 I flicked on the light, illuminating the starkness of their absence. A frown creased my forehead as I shuffled through the living room that still bore the faint aroma of the girl's pre-party perfume spritzing. The party had ended hours ago, yet their rooms stood as silent sentinels to their unexplained delay.

 "VIP after-party?" The thought slipped out, a whisper lost in the emptiness. The idea stung—a private invite they hadn't extended to me. Were we not a quartet in mischief and secrets? Apparently not. I could feel the tightness of exclusion wrap around my chest, but I pushed it away. Not now. I couldn't afford to unravel over social slights, not with the pressing weight of work and the complication named Alarick vying for attention in my overtaxed mind.

 "Let it go, Lina," I murmured to myself, padding softly to my bedroom. I shrugged off the evening's gown, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of silk and sweat—remnants of a night that needed forgetting. Sliding under the covers, I sought refuge in the promise of sleep, allowing the darkness to envelop me like a cocoon. The world could wait until after a few precious hours of oblivion.

 Yet sleep, it seemed, was a fickle ally. It had barely taken hold when a cacophony of sound jolted me back into consciousness. The front door slammed with a force that made the walls shudder, followed by the sharp, jagged edges of an argument cutting through the quiet. My heart raced, pulling me to the surface of wakefulness just long enough to register the familiar timbre of Sara's indignation mingling with Joy's biting retort. Melissa's voice rose above theirs, a calming balm that fell short of its intent.

 Their voices ebbed and flowed like a discordant symphony, reaching me through the thin barrier of my bedroom wall. A crescendo, then a sudden silence, as if the day itself had swallowed their dissent. They were home, their moods as dark as the sky yesterday.

 "Bad night," I concluded, my thoughts already drifting back toward the edge of dreams. Whatever had transpired to sour their return could wait until morning. For now, the drama of the living room would remain beyond my door, a story untold, as I surrendered once more to the pursuit of rest within the sanctuary of my own space.

 The gentle hum of silence had finally cradled me into a reluctant slumber when the sudden buzz of my phone clawed at the edges of my consciousness. I groaned, resisting the intrusion, but the insistent vibration on the nightstand pulled me from the comfort of dreams back to stark reality. Eyes bleary and fingers clumsy, I reached for the device, the screen's glow piercing the darkness like a beacon.

 An unknown number but he signed his text with "Alarick," his name flashed mockingly with each message lighting up the display.

 'How are you?' The first text seemed innocent enough if it weren't for the weight of last night's transgressions anchoring each word.

 I scrolled, the digital onslaught continuing, 'Have you arrived well at home?' His concern feigned or genuine, it didn't matter. It was too late for such pleasantries.

 Another message stacked atop the previous, 'Why aren't you replying?'. A surge of irritation tightened in my chest. He was pushing boundaries he had no right to cross anymore.

 And then the plea, 'Please, Lina, we need to talk.' The words blurred as I felt the resolve hardening within me, an armor forged from the clarity that hindsight cruelly provided.

 A sigh escaped my lips, a sound lost in the void of my now bright bedroom. This was not a conversation I owed him, nor one I desired. My thumb hovered over the keys, the temptation to engage gnawing at me. But this was a road I'd been down before, a path that looped back upon itself, leading nowhere new.

 I could still recall the pain of being ignored by him after our dinner, how he abandoned me after we made out at his engagement party, and how he ran away the day after our intense kiss by the river. He always left me feeling foolish and undesirable.

 In the dim light of my brain, I found the resolve that had been germinating in the shadows of my mind. With a decisive swipe, I left his messages, his pleas, his false concern seen but unacknowledged. The finality of blocking him was a silent proclamation—a line drawn in the sand of my dignity that I refused to let the tide erase.

 My finger lingered on the power button, and with a soft click, the phone returned to darkness, the outside world cut off once more. I set the phone down, feeling the weight of the decision resting easier than the device in my palm.

 I lay back, eyes closed, the phantom vibrations of Alarick's texts already fading into memory. I had made my choice. There would be no looking back, no second-guessing. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, the quiet reassurance of my decision allowed me to drift back towards sleep, untethered from regret.