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Chapter 32 – Toasts To A Mirage
Last Updated:
2025-04-17 11:05:33
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AriaThe silence in the car stretches so long, it starts to feel personal.The kind that settles in your bones. Thick, heavy, impossible to shake. Damon sits beside me, eyes fixed out the tinted window like the night offers more peace than this leather seat ever could. Not a word since we got in. Not a glance.Fine by me.I can’t pretend anymore tonight. Not after all the smiling. Not after being paraded like some carefully groomed acquisition—packaged, tagged, and displayed. I played the role, alright. Gave them the blushing bride. Giggled at their terrible jokes. Pretended his hand on my back didn’t make my skin crawl.And now, I’m just... tired.The dress is too tight, my scalp aches from the pins holding up my hair, and the corners of my mouth still feel strained from holding the same fake smile for hours. My whole body feels like it’s been rented out to someone else. No room left in it for me.And now this—a stop, before Paris. No explanation. No warning. Just another layer of th
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AriaThe room feels too small. Too still. Damon’s face doesn’t move, but I feel the uncomfortable shift in him. Kingsley’s talking, but it’s all background noise. My pulse is too loud. I lean in toward the screen, half-hoping I misread the message. But no. It’s still there. My name. Again. Not Damon’s. Mine. And that’s when it hits—this wasn’t about rattling us. It was about me. Someone made damn sure I saw it, and they wanted me to feel it. This is personal. I glance at Damon. He’s frozen in front of the screen, eyes scanning it like he can peel the truth out of the pixels. Jaw locked, shoulders stiff, completely unreadable. He doesn't say a word. Just gives Kingsley a tight nod like that’s his way of saying keep going.“Damon,” I say quietly.Nothing.“Damon,” louder this time.His eyes finally meet mine. No warmth. No surprise. Just that same detached focus, like I’m a problem to manage.“Get yourself together, dammit,” he says. “Don’t make me regret bringing you along.”Then
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Last Updated : 2025-04-18Claimed By The Billionaire Chapter 36 - Quiet
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AriaMy eyes feel weak. Heavier than they were when I woke from the coma. Lifting them feels like peeling myself away from cement. They won’t cooperate. Not yet.It might be the exhaustion. Yesterday left nothing behind but scraps. No fuel. No air. Just the weight of survival and the kind of mental fog that sticks to your ribs.I squeeze my lids shut, trying to block it all out—the panic, the sprint, the stupid hope when I thought the gate was open. That brief flash of relief, followed by adrenaline so sharp it almost felt like clarity. For a second, I thought I’d made it, that I’d beat him.But no. He got to me first. And just like that, the fight drained out of me. Gone. I didn’t resist. Didn’t scream. I didn’t even speak.Just followed. Numb.Now my eyes flutter open, and the ceiling above is white, high, and unfamiliar.Where...?The smell hits me next. Expensive linen. Something floral. Subtle. The kind of scent you get in overpriced hotels with too many stars. I glance around.T
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AriaShopping with Damon feels like walking through a movie set where the lead actors don’t speak to each other. Not out of tension, but because the script doesn’t require it.We’re in and out of stores within an hour. Fast. Clean. Efficient. The kind of shopping only someone like Damon could pull off without once looking up from his phone. Not even to see what I’m picking. Not even when I pause a little too long at a rack or glance toward the exit like it might suddenly open up into freedom. Not the countless times I looked over my shoulder in fear, or by instinct. And even when our guards glance back, he doesn’t. Doesn’t react. Doesn’t catch me looking. Doesn’t care.He moves like a man who’s figured out the world owes him nothing—and still manages to get everything. That quiet self-assurance used to be just annoying. Now it’s unnerving. And... fine, a little impressive. In that unsettling, dangerous way.He holds all the power and wields it without blinking.And I hate that I noti
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DamonThe moment the car door shuts and the engine hums to life, the silence thickens. She’s quiet. Too quiet. Still wearing that smile she put on like war paint for her little sidewalk reunion.The driver shifts into gear, and before the wheels even roll forward, I say it.“What the hell was that?”It comes out low, even—but it slices through the quiet like a blade. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. She knows exactly what I’m talking about.She stares out the window like I’m a minor inconvenience.“What?”She’s playing dumb now?“You ran,” I say. My jaw’s clenched, voice measured. “To a man. In public. With guards present.”She doesn’t flinch. “I know him.”Of course she does.“It doesn’t matter.”“He said my name.”“And that’s the bar now? He said your name so you throw yourself at him in the middle of Paris like it’s a goddamn reunion episode?”The memory flashes again—her full-on sprint, the way she flung herself into his arms like we didn’t have two security guards five st
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DamonThe evening drags. I step out onto the balcony just to get away from the walls. Not that the Paris air helps—it's not some kind of cure. But inside, everything feels tight. Off. Too still.Down below, the city keeps going. Laughter. A scooter. Someone is yelling in French. People are living their lives without missing a beat. Meanwhile, in here, it feels like everything’s stuck in place.I lean on the railing, but my head’s somewhere else. Back in that moment. Her in his arms. That laugh. That look on her face. I haven’t seen that version of her in weeks—maybe not at all since she came crashing back into my world. And then he shows up, and she’s suddenly glowing like she’s finally breathing again.I glance inside through the glass.She’s on the couch. Phone in her lap, but she’s not looking at it. Just sitting. Quiet. And smiling. Not the kind of smile she puts on for people. This one’s small. Honest. The kind you don’t even realise you’re doing.It pisses me off more than I’d l
Last Updated : 2025-04-20
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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
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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
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DamonThe silence in Kingsley's guest bedroom is deceptive.Aria's breathing has evened out, soft and rhythmic. She’s asleep again, but my mind is wide awake, refusing to rest. The ceiling stares back at me like it expects me to explain myself. It knows what I did and is daring me to justify it.She’s right beside me—warm, steady, impossibly close. The same woman I convinced myself to hate. To control. To manipulate.And I let all of it unravel. Just like that.One night. One touch. And I dropped the mask. It wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t part of the plan.I shift slightly, keeping still enough not to wake her. Not yet. I don't want her to open her eyes and catch the guilt written all over mine. Guilt I can't afford.Not when I’ve already made a decision: I’m not letting her go. Contract or not. Not when the damage is already done.I just chose all this while not to see. She was never Ava.It’s not just the way she moves or how she speaks. It’s the way she fights back, even w
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DamonDamon freaking Stone.What now? What next?The ceiling stares back at me as my chest slowly rises and falls. Each breath steadier than the last, but not enough to calm the chaos inside.I can still feel her on me. Around me. I don’t dare look in her direction. If I do, I’ll give myself away—and not just with my eyes. The tight rein I've kept on this storm inside will snap, and I can't afford that. Not right now. Not yet.Because now, it’s clear. As clear as the silence hanging in this room.She isn’t Ava. Never was.I always had my doubts. From the way she spoke, to how she carried herself, to how she'd look at me—not like someone with history, but like someone new. But tonight? It sealed it. The way her body moved with mine, how she reached for me, the rawness of it—no calculation, no manipulation, just... raw.Unfiltered.Honest.It was never like that with Ava. There was always an angle. An agenda.But her?Aria?She was shaking. Trembling beneath my hands. Like every touch m
