Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 123: Ryan Confronts Julian – Protective Fiancé Mode Activated

Chapter 123: Ryan Confronts Julian – Protective Fiancé Mode Activated

The sun had dipped low over Tokyo, casting long golden streaks across the glass-paneled lobby of the Shiroyama Grand Hotel. The tension inside, however, was anything but serene.

Ava sat in the suite’s sunken lounge, fingers gripping a cooling cup of tea she hadn’t touched. Mei and Harold had finally retreated to their own suite—after Mei loudly threatened to hex Julian with a matchmaking curse passed down from her Cantonese grandmother. Harold had started Googling "hex-proof security software," just in case.

But Ryan?

He hadn’t sat still since Ethan walked away with that smug parting smirk.

He paced now, jaw tight, hands flexing like he was preparing closing arguments in court—or maybe a fistfight.

"I’m going to kill him," he muttered under his breath.

Ava looked up. "You’re a lawyer. You don’t get to say things like that casually."

Ryan stopped mid-stride and turned to face her, eyes blazing. "He humiliated you. He tampered with your matches. And now he’s messing with your clients’ emotions. I don’t care if I have to sue him into oblivion or break his nose—I’m not letting him get away with this."

Ava blinked. Then slowly stood, walking over to him and placing a hand on his chest. "You really want to fight Julian in a five-star Tokyo hotel lobby?"

Ryan’s voice was low. "Yes."

She arched a brow.

He leaned closer. "I mean, I’d prefer to do it in front of press. Publicly. Strategically."

Ava tried not to smile. "Still lawyer logic."

But her heart ached—in a good way. Because no one had ever stood up for her like this before. No one had burned with this kind of fury on her behalf.

Before she could say anything, there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Ryan Kim, if you’re going to throw hands, at least let me grab my camera," Mei called through the door.

Ava groaned, burying her face in Ryan’s chest. "She has better timing than the devil."

Ryan opened the door. Mei and Harold stood there—Mei holding a massive tub of popcorn, Harold already munching.

"We figured it was time," Harold said cheerfully, tossing a kernel into his mouth. "Your blood pressure was climbing."

Mei swept into the room like a storm. "Where is that snake-in-a-suit? I want front-row seats."

Ryan didn’t wait.

He didn’t even grab a coat.

He stormed out of the suite, leaving Ava trailing in his wake, Mei shoving popcorn at hotel staff like it was currency, and Harold casually livestreaming for "documentation purposes."

Down the hall, the elevator chimed.

Julian.

He stepped out, flanked by two assistants and trailed by Ethan, who looked like he’d just finished a cocktail and hadn’t expected drama to arrive quite so soon.

"Oh," Julian said, voice dry. "Here comes the fiancé."

Ryan didn’t hesitate.

He walked straight up to Julian, shoulders squared. "You sabotaged her."

Julian blinked. "You’ll need to be more specific."

Ryan’s jaw tightened. "You stole her clients. You interfered with her matches. You twisted the rules to make it look like she’s losing."

Julian raised a brow. "I didn’t twist anything. The summit has an open communication clause—my team simply took initiative."

"You manipulated the system," Ryan snapped. "You tricked people into thinking Ava’s matches weren’t genuine."

Julian smiled, thin and cold. "Oh, Ryan. This is a competition. And she’s losing."

Mei hissed like a provoked cat. "That’s it. Harold, give me the contract binder."

Harold, mid-kernel, fumbled with a giant leather binder under his arm. "Do we want the Japanese translation or the one with the sarcasm footnotes?"

Julian waved them off. "It doesn’t matter. The board won’t interfere unless she files a formal dispute."

Ryan took a step closer, and for once, Julian looked less smug.

"Listen to me," Ryan said, voice low and lethal. "If you so much as send another message to her clients, I will go full courtroom on you. You think you’re clever, Julian? I’ve out-debated men with billions more and morals a thousand times cleaner than yours."

Julian’s smile cracked. "Is that a threat?"

Ryan leaned in. "No. That’s a promise."

For a moment, the hallway was silent—tension crackling like static.

Then Ethan, who had been leaning against the wall with his drink, gave a long, impressed whistle. "Damn. That was kind of hot."

Ava smacked her palm against her face. "Why are you like this?"

Mei clapped once. "Beautiful. Fiancé power unlocked."

Harold gave a slow golf clap.

Julian turned on his heel, muttering something to his assistant. But Ryan didn’t even watch him go.

He turned to Ava, jaw still tight, fury simmering beneath the surface. "You okay?"

Ava didn’t answer. She stepped in, cupped his face, and kissed him—hard.

It wasn’t soft or sweet.

It was messy. Grateful. Raw.

When she pulled back, she whispered, "You didn’t have to do that."

Ryan met her gaze. "I know. But I wanted to."

Behind them, Mei wiped a single dramatic tear. "True love and public shaming. My favorite genre."

Harold nodded. "10/10. Would binge again."

---

They didn’t speak until they were back in the suite.

The door clicked shut behind them with a soft finality, the distant sounds of the hotel corridor muffled to silence. The confrontation still echoed in Ava’s ears—Ryan’s voice, sharp and cold, the way Julian had gone still under his words. But now, inside the privacy of their room, the adrenaline gave way to something else.

A heavy stillness.

Ryan was standing just inside the door, one hand still curled into a fist, the other pushing through his hair as he paced once, then stopped.

Ava watched him. "You okay?"

He turned to her, his gaze dark but steady. "Shouldn’t I be asking you that?"

Ava stepped forward slowly. "You just nearly punched Julian in a ballroom."

"He deserved it," Ryan muttered, eyes hard. "The way he talks about you—like you’re some competitor he needs to out-code, not a human being with integrity. It’s not just business to him. It’s... personal. Twisted."

Ava exhaled, stepping close. "I know."

Ryan’s shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, that protective storm still rolling through him. "I should’ve done more—sooner."

"You did enough," she said gently, placing her hand over his chest. "You were fire and thunder in a suit. I might be a little turned on."

That pulled a soft, strained laugh from him. "You always find the joke."

"I mean it." Ava’s voice dropped, fingers slipping up to his jaw. "You were incredible."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. His voice was rough. "I hate how much this is getting to you. You shouldn’t have to play dirty to win."

"I’m not going to," she whispered.

His arms circled her waist, tugging her closer until their bodies touched completely. "Then we play smarter. Together."

Their lips met—soft at first, then hungrier. Ava’s fingers tangled in his hair, her mouth opening under his with a low, aching need. The anger, the stress, the chaos—it all funneled into that kiss, into the desperate, searching pull of lips and hands.

Ryan backed her toward the wall, never breaking contact, his hands sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers tracing fire along her skin.

"You were mine the moment you stepped on that damn summit stage," he murmured against her mouth.

"And you were mine when you hijacked my client pitch in Paris," she replied, breathless.

He smirked, nipping her bottom lip. "You kissed me first."

"You kissed me back."

His hands curved over her hips, lifting her with ease as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Still do."

He carried her to the bed with the ease of a man who’d done it a hundred times before, laying her down like she was something priceless—delicate, yes, but wholly his.

Their clothes disappeared in pieces—shirts, slacks, everything forgotten on the floor. Skin met skin, heat meeting heat, as Ryan covered her with his body, trailing kisses down her neck, between her breasts, across her ribs.

Ava gasped when his mouth found the sensitive spot just above her hip. "Ryan..."

He looked up, eyes smoldering. "Tell me to stop."

"Never," she breathed.

He kissed his way back up, bracing himself on his forearms above her as he slid into her with a low groan.

Ava arched into him, her fingers gripping his shoulders, anchoring them both.

Their movements were slow at first—like they were relearning each other after the storm—but it didn’t stay slow for long. Each thrust, each breath, built on the last until the room spun with the force of it.

There were no words left, just the sound of their names on each other’s lips, the rush of blood and breath and love.

When it was over, they stayed tangled together—Ryan tracing circles on her back, Ava pressing lazy kisses to his jaw.

He kissed the top of her head. "You okay?"

Ava nodded, eyes closed, her voice a whisper. "Because of you."

He held her tighter. "Good. Because I’m not done protecting you yet."