AriaI plaster a wide smile on my face as Damon leads me to sit.“It’s nice to meet you all. I’ve heard so much,” I say, bowing slightly on my seat beside Damon. His mother is sat at the right, while his father is at the head of the table. She must be his favourite wife.There’s an awkward silence as I look around the dining table, scanning their faces to gauge their reactions to my presence. Michael Stone looks at me with an unreadable expression, studying me in an attempt to find something that gives me away. Damon has so much resemblance to his father, especially with his eyes.I smile at him and avert my eyes, shifting it to the person sitting by his left. It’s Damon’s stepmother, Grace Stone. I spent the past week familiarising myself with their names, looks, traits – you name it.She meets my eyes and shoots me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her son, James, is sitted beside her, gaping at me like he just saw a ghost. He averts his eyes from me quickly when I meet his
Aria"Yes. You."Joshua's smirk irritates me in a way that makes me want to both slap him and look away. Yet, I can’t seem to pull my eyes from his. The heat creeping up my cheeks is undeniable.I shoot him a glare, my disbelief evident. "Excuse me?" I snap. "Are you seriously hitting on me outside the bathroom?"He shrugs, completely unfazed by my reaction. "Relax, Aria. I'm joking. Sort of. You’re beautiful, though. And technically, you’re not married yet."I fold my arms, a wave of disgust washing over me. "You followed me out here just to say that?"He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I’m just saying, if my brother ever messes up—and trust me, he will—you have options. Namely, me."My jaw clenches, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. I open my mouth to retort, but before I can say anything, a familiar voice cuts through the tension."Babe?"Damon.My heart skips a beat as I turn to see him striding towards me. His movements are deliberate, but I can sense the
AriaThe lights inside the mansion are blinding after the dimness of the garden. I blink against them, pulse still raging, my breath catching with each step. The argument outside plays on a loop in my head—Damon’s cold accusation, the slap, his warning.I push open the doors to the dining room, and everything screeches back to life. Everyone’s still seated. Joshua walks in a moment after me, all too pleased with himself. He’s still smirking. I can feel Damon’s presence behind me—rigid, burning with restraint.I walk past Joshua without looking at him and take my seat beside Damon. His chair scrapes slightly as he sits last, his expression carved from stone. I don’t acknowledge him.Grace’s voice slices through the room like a knife. “So, Aria, tell us more about your family. You said they’re from Maryland? What kind of business did they run again?”My eyes widen in surprise. “Hardware. My—my father ran a chain of hardware stores.”“Really? What’s the company called? Maybe I’ve heard o
Damon“Is everything alright here?”Mum. Of course.“Yes, Mum. Why wouldn’t it be?”“I just noticed you both weren’t in the sitting room and thought I’d check in,” she says.Just as I’m about to speak, Ava cuts in. “Yeah—I needed an escape from Grace’s endless questions. Is she always like that, or am I just lucky?”“Oh, dear. She’s always been a sour one. You’ve got to be careful around her,” Mum says, slipping into an easy rhythm with Ava as they walk off together.One minute she’s furious and throwing slaps, the next she’s in full character. I really did make the best choice for an actress.“Sweetheart, you’re just going to leave me standing here?” I call out, stopping them.“My love, quit whining. A few more hours and you’ll have my full attention,” Ava says, then ambles back over. With a soft smile, she brushes her lips against mine in a tender kiss, catching me completely off guard. It’s brief. Soft. But it sends a stupid, involuntary jolt through me, like my lips haven’t gotte
Damon“She’s gone.”What??!“What the hell do you mean by that, Leo? What happened? You were supposed to watch her, dammit,” I curse through the phone, barely keeping it together.“She was right here. I briefly stepped away from the door to check with the other assignment you gave me. The other guys were on their brea—”I cut him off before he can finish. “For fuck’s sake, Leo! This is more important than any other task I send your way. You better find her. NOW!”My voice booms through the line. “The freaking instruction was ‘Man her door at all times!’ I say one thing! One! And you all decide to do the opposite!” I end the call before I say something worse.Ava. Ava. Ava.I should’ve known. Should’ve predicted it. She’s always been like this—impulsive, unpredictable. But I didn’t think she’d actually do it. Not this time.Where do I even start? What kind of story can I manufacture to Father? Those vultures at home already think she’s a fake– just a pretty face I pulled in for appeara
AriaHow he manages to get under my skin is something that’ll probably take me a while to understand. He’s lucky I haven’t figured out a way to reach Ava. Contract or no contract, I’d have been long gone.Accusing me of seducing his brother? How low could he possibly go? I feel both satisfaction and regret from the way I acted—slapping him.Nobody should have the power to rile me up. Not like that. Not in public.I’ve always been the one to respond with indifference and calmness, rather than lashing out. But ever since I woke from the coma, I’ve been reactive. I never knew I had it in me—until the ill-fated day I met Grumpy.Time and time again, I surprised even myself.For the first time, Damon was at a loss for words. And why?A kiss.In that moment, as I waltzed over to him with a fake smile plastered across my face, I had no idea what I was doing.But the closer I got, the clearer it became.Shut him up with a kiss. And I did. Just lightly—but I did.I caught the look of surprise
Aria Light penetrates my eyes before I even open them.It's crisp and clinical, and everything smells like antiseptic and plastic. There’s a quiet hum beneath everything—machines, perhaps. The continuous beep of a monitor next to me confirms something I don't want to admit.Hospital. Again.I try to move, but my arms fail me. There's an IV in the back of my hand.I open my eyes.Fluorescent ceiling tiles hang above me. A hanging drape is drawn halfway around the bed, and a hard sheet covers me up to my chest. My body feels as if it has been dropped down a precipice and then regretfully sewn back together.My lips are dry, and my tongue tastes like metal. When I try to speak, all I manage to let out is a cracked, hollow rasp.The memories come in fragments.Running. The park. Barking dogs.Damon—shouting, furious.His tight grip on my arms. Me yelling.Then the ground. A jolt. Everything turning black.The monitor beside me spikes with my heartbeat.The door swings open, and Dr Jenna
AriaThe next few days pass faster than I expect. That might be because of the steady stream of pain meds, or maybe it’s the simple rhythm of hospital life—nurses in and out, vitals checked, food trays delivered like clockwork. Still, nothing distracts me quite like the fact that Damon keeps showing up.Every. Single. Day.He never says he’s coming, but he always does. Always around the same time, too—like he’s scheduled it between corporate meetings and brooding in penthouses. And he's always armed with something—food, water, a sarcastic comment.“You’re looking less like a corpse today,” he says one morning, dropping a bag of takeout onto my tray table.I narrow my eyes. “Charming.”“Not trying to charm you. I'm trying to make sure Mother doesn’t notice you’ve lost an ounce.” He unpacks the container like it were a normal part of his life. Like, feeding me was just one more business obligation. Well, it was.I watch him closely. There’s a twitch in his brow when he thinks I’m not pa
DamonThe towel’s warm. Damp. Smells like her shampoo because that’s all I could find. I press it to her forehead anyway, slow, like the way you’d soothe a startled animal, or… something fragile. I don’t know. I’m not good at this part. But I do it anyway. Carefully. Quietly. Like, if I move too fast, I’ll make it even worse.Her eyes are half-closed, her face slack with exhaustion. The fever’s still thereand her skin’s still hot to the touch. I shift the towel, flip it, and press again. She doesn’t say anything at first. Doesn’t even flinch. Just lies there, breathing slow and shallow.After a while, I ask, "Do you feel any better?"She nods. Barely. Not convincingly. But I’ll take it.I stay there longer than I should, watching her. The silence settles in, comfortable and strange all at once. Before long, my eyes grow heavy and the edges of the room start to blur, and before I even realise it, I’m slipping under.When I wake up, I’m still seated by the bed, back aching from the shit
AriaSteam coils around me like smoke as I press my forehead to the cool tile wall. The water pounds over my back, hot and relentless, but my mind's somewhere else entirely.Today is the end of it. I'm done asking Damon about what happened between us—the sex, the looks, the moments I keep replaying like they mean something. They don’t. Not to him. And I refuse to be that girl, the one who keeps chasing shadows just to feel seen.I tilt my head back and let the spray hit my face. God, I actually told him everything. All of it. From Daniel's name to the espresso to the damn boutique hopping. And for what? He just stood there like a stone, staring at me like I was reading out of someone else’s diary.Still, I’ll give myself credit. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t sugarcoat it. Just told him. That’s got to count for something.I grab the soap and lather off the day—the grime, the weight, the leather that clung to me like shame. Months of this. Months pretending this marriage, this arrangement, do
DamonShe was just here.I swear she was just here.The sound of the door closing didn’t even register when it happened. I thought maybe she was grabbing a drink, stepping out to get food. something. But not leaving. Nothing that would leave this suite feeling like a damn ghost town an hour later.Ten minutes.I glance at the time again.Fifteen.I walk to the door, pull it open, look left, right. The hallway’s empty. No sign of her. So I sit back down and wait, trying not to assume the worst, which is a feat in itself considering that’s exactly what I’m wired to do. Especially since Ashbury Lane.At thirty minutes, my patience hits a wall.I grab my phone and shoot off a text to her:Where the hell did you run off to?Nothing.Ten minutes pass. Still nothing.I toss the phone onto the bed and stare at the ceiling like it holds answers. It doesn’t. It's still just mocking silence.No, I’m not calling security. Not yet. That’d be overkill. She’s not kidnapped. She’s not stupid. She wou
Aria"Hello."Daniel's voice breaks through the static in my mind. I blink, jolted back into the moment, fingers still curled loosely around the ceramic cup."Sorry," I say quickly, managing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just... wandering thoughts. You know how it is sometimes."He nods, his expression softening. "All too well."I take another sip of the espresso, letting the bitterness ground me. It helps. A little.Daniel leans back in his chair, folding his arms in a way that makes him look less like a stranger and more like someone who's sat across from me more than once. "So. You know my name, you know I’ve got two daughters who boss me around like they run the UN, and you know I moved here with a suitcase and a half-broken heart. That’s a decent start. But I’m still trying to figure out who you are.""I'm a terrible shopper," I say with a grin that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.He laughs, warm and genuine. "No, you’re not. You’re just distracted. There’s a difference.""Touché."He t
AriaShocked by the words he just spat, I walk back into the suite, barely able to keep my legs steady beneath me.A mistake? Perfect.What were you thinking, A? That one hot and steamy round of the best sex you've ever had would somehow change your fate? That it would magically blur the very obvious line between you and a man like him?A bitter laugh bubbles up, though it never escapes. It gets stuck in my throat, burning like bile. Each step feels detached from thought, wooden and slow, as though I’m dragging the weight of everything he just said behind me. The room hasn't changed. It's still dim, still cold, still cloaked in that ridiculous, sterile luxury. And yet, something inside it feels different now. Like it’s cracked open and hollowed out in all the wrong places.Of course, he said it.Of course, he meant it.That's the kind of man Damon is—sharp edges, blunt truths, and defences built like steel gates. And still, somehow, some foolish, desperate part of me thought I could m
DamonI'm done.Done pretending the weight of this isn’t eating me alive. Done holding off on decisions I should’ve made days ago. It’s high time I called for Bianca and friends, or whoever Kay’s been keeping warm in his back pocket.The second my feet hit the floor, I grab my phone from the nightstand. The screen lights up in my palm, casting a glow across the dim room. Behind me, she’s still asleep. Curled near the edge of the bed like the mattress burns her. Like if she moves an inch closer to the center, something will break inside her. Maybe it already has. Maybe I did that.My throat tightens. Looking at her too long feels like swallowing glass, so I tear my gaze away and step onto the balcony. Cold air slaps my skin– It's real, sharp, and punishing. Just like I deserve.I dial Kingsley.He picks up after the third ring. “What’s up, man?”Straight to it. “Good morning, Kay. How soon will Bianca and whoever-the-hell else you’ve got be ready?”There’s a pause. A beat of silence wh
AriaThe Vancouver skyline stares back at me, cold and smug through the tall glass windows. We’re at the top floor of one of Damon’s luxury hotels—his name, his money, his power carved into every inch of this place. But for all the luxury, it feels more like a cage than ever. A prettier one, but a cage nonetheless.The room is ridiculous. Opulent. Sleek floors, floor-to-ceiling glass, m everything. A bottle of wine rests untouched on the coffee table. Our suitcases sit side by side near the closet like they’re in a truce we can’t manage.And I’m pacing.My phone buzzes. Again.Derek: Still in town. Can we catch up? I hesitate, thumb hovering.Me:Unfortunately not. We can catch up right here.Damon steps out from the bathroom, sleeves rolled, watch glinting against his wrist as he fastens it. He hasn’t said much since we landed. Not about the trip. Not about the room. Not even about the last time we spoke.Just a clipped, "Dinner. Twenty minutes. Dress accordingly."Like we’re here fo
DamonIt’s still early when I walk into our adjoined room. Not quiet, not loud. Just the kind of silence that means she’s inside—maybe awake, maybe pretending not to be.I pause by the door that connects our rooms, knock once. No answer. Doesn’t surprise me. She’s made it a habit lately to answer when she feels like it, not when I ask. I reach for the handle anyway and step in.She’s by the window, back turned to me. Sunlight touches her hair, giving it a bronze tint. Her posture’s stiff, too still. She heard me. She’s just not in the mood.Figures.“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I say flatly. “Pack enough. It won’t be a short trip.”No response. Not even a twitch.I let the silence hang, let her fill it or ignore it. The power play doesn’t matter today.“The security logs were compromised again,” I add. “It’s worse than the last time.”Now she moves. Just barely. A shift in her shoulders. “So this is what now? Another emergency evacuation?”“Something like that.”She finally turns, arms c
DamonShe doesn’t slam the door behind her.That’s how I know she’s angry.She slams doors when she’s trying to make a point. Not when she’s actually pissed. This silence? This quiet exit back into her own space? That’s worse.The adjoining door clicks shut, and the room feels colder.I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding and stare at it for a second longer than I should. It’s just a door. A wall with a handle. But tonight, it might as well be a damn fortress.It’s not like I didn’t see this coming. Every move she’s made since Kingsley’s told me exactly what page she’s on.But it doesn’t make it easier.I tug at my collar. The shirt feels tighter than usual. Everything does lately. I’ve barely settled in since we got back, and I already feel suffocated. The walls of this house, of this arrangement, all closing in.I cross to the bar, pour two fingers of scotch into a glass, and let it burn down slowly. It doesn’t help much.She hasn’t said as much as I know she would w