DamonThe second I step into the alley, my body just goes. Feet moving, eyes scanning, and every nerve in me alert like I’ve done this before. Like, I know how this ends. I don’t even think—I just move.Something about the way she said it. That line. “It was my name on the note.”Didn’t sound rehearsed. Didn’t sound rehearsed. And it stuck. Like a thorn under the skin.It shouldn’t matter. I should’ve just gone on to the apartment. Should've paid her no mind. But I didn’t walk away.I’m here. In the dark. Looking for something. For someone.The alley is quiet, but not empty. There’s a story in the dirt. Footprints, maybe. A flyer stepped on and left to rot. And then I see it—a folded piece of paper, just like the other one.My fingers are already reaching down before I decide if I should. Unfolding it before I realise I’m holding my breath.Nothing.No message. Which somehow feels worse.Blank paper says, I’m still here. Says, I’m watching. Says, I don’t need to warn you anymore.It’
Aria“I protect what’s mine.”“Performance or not.”The words settle in my chest like a brick, refusing to move even as the sun begins to rise. They linger long after the softness of his voice fades, long after the warmth of his hand trailing slow, absent circles on my arm turns to stillness. They hang quietly through the night, looping until the edges of morning peel back the dark.He couldn’t have meant it. At least, not in the way it sounded. Not in the way I processed it.But it felt like he did.Lying still with my eyes shut, I try to convince myself that maybe I dreamed it. That I imagined the way his arm pulled me closer. That my mind filled in the missing pieces of warmth I've long forgotten the feel of.Otherwise, it makes no sense.Eventually, the light pouring in through the curtains grows too strong to ignore, and my eyelids give way. The room comes into view slowly, drenched in that pale golden glow that always makes things seem softer than they are. But the illusion only
Aria"Put on something professional. You're coming with me," Damon says without looking up from his phone, the minute he steps back in, like it’s just a calendar reminder.I glance at him from over my coffee mug. “And what exactly am I dressing up for this time?” He finally meets my eyes. His stare is cool, detached, but underneath it, there's something unreadable. “It’s a meeting. A private meeting. You sit, you smile, you stay quiet through it all. That’s all.”“That sounds a lot like an order.”He slips his phone into his pocket and straightens. “This time, it’s a favour.”The word lands differently. Damon doesn’t ask for favours. That’s not how the script works. He demands. He orchestrates. But here he is, standing in the doorway, calling it a favor. That alone is enough to make me pause.I narrow my eyes. “What kind of favour?”“The kind that requires you to keep your mouth shut and your eyes open.”Sounds easy. But nothing with Damon ever is. Still, something about the way he s
AriaHours after the Duval disaster, we're back in the apartment, packing in silence for the flight back to New York. Back to the cage. Back to surveillance, secrets, and stiffly filtered air. I move around the room with slow, mechanical motions, folding clothes I don’t care about, pretending like this isn’t the same place where everything just spiralled out of control. And maybe if I move slow enough, time will slow down with me, and I won’t have to face what comes next.Damon’s here, too. Not that you’d know it. He hasn’t said a word in over thirty minutes, his back turned, his energy closed off like a door slammed shut. Colder than usual. Detached. His silence is a mood, but honestly, I’m too tired to match it. Too exhausted to figure out what kind of ice I’m walking on now.I do everything right. Act exactly as he says I should. Say nothing when he says so. Breathe evenly. And yet, still somehow, I feel like I’ve committed some crime. Like breathing wrong might trigger another exp
Damon“Whatever happened in Paris... stays in Paris,” I say, stepping off the plane with my back to her, keeping my eyes forward because if I look back, even for a second, my eyes might give me away.The words taste like control but feel like betrayal. A contradiction in every breath. Relief flickers through me, quick and sharp, like I finally sealed off a door that would only lead to trouble. But underneath it, regret simmers. Something in my chest squeezes tight, and my brain shoves the memory back. And yesterday, I just had to leave. I had to. Because there were no words after what happened. No smug reply. No commanding reply. Hell, nothing. And I just had to leave like a coward.But that set the floor for what I just said to her. And it helps. Because I need time to put my thoughts together, even if it means she hates me, more now than before. Even if it's cowardly.The feel of her against me—warm, soft, willing—floods my senses for half a second too long. No.Not now. Not again
Damon“Alright, man. If you say so,” Kay says, and with that, the line goes dead.Leaning back into the headrest, I try to still everything. Thoughts, instincts, the tension that hasn’t left my shoulders since we touched down. The inside of the car is silent except for the hum of the engine. The moment feels stretched thin, like it might snap if I breathe too loudly.Gravel crunches under the tires. I didn’t even notice Mark turning into the driveway until we were already pulling in. The house rises into view, tall and sharp against the dull afternoon light, and just like that, reality comes barreling back.She moves before the car comes to a full stop. The door swings open, and she steps out fast. Too fast. The door slams hard behind her.Right. Here we go.If I was taming a dog before Paris, I’m fighting a tiger now. And not just any tiger—one I raised with my own hands. One I fed fury and independence, and then had the audacity to expect silence from.I step out, and my eyes land o
AriaIt takes all of two minutes inside this room to remember where I am—back in the cage. Same city. Same house. Same man with a different mask for every room.Unpacking feels mechanical, like my hands are on autopilot. Dresses. Tops. A few random things from Paris that don’t belong here, not in this place where the little joy I had goes to die. The bed is too neat, too silent. The adjoining door to Damon’s room stands half open, and the air from it feels heavier than it should. Maybe it’s him.Maybe it’s me.I slide the zipper open on another suitcase and let the silence fill every crevice. It’s louder than words. Louder than what we didn’t say on the plane, louder than the lie he dropped before walking off: Whatever happened in Paris stays in Paris.Right. Convenient.The worst part? The fact that my brain keeps looping back to that night. Not the heat, not the thrill, but the way he looked at me like he forgot how to hate. Like he couldn’t tell where anger ended and want began. I
AriaThe note sits at the bottom of the drawer like it owns the damn room.A small, folded piece of paper—simple, stupid, and ordinary. Except, it isn’t ordinary. It shouldn’t be here. No one should have touched this drawer. No one should have access to this room. And yet—here it is. Crisp edges. Smooth texture. Same paper. Same weight. Same fucking handwriting.No message this time. Just a number.19. I stare at it like it might change if I blink enough. It doesn’t. The black ink remains bold, unmoving, certain of its own mystery.What does this mean? Is it a date? A countdown? A room number? A threat? My mind runs wild, fingers clutching the note like it might disappear if I let go. Every possibility flashes through like a horror reel.And that’s the part that terrifies me most—not knowing.I slip it into the pages of a book and slide the book deep inside the drawer, then I lock the drawer with a key I didn’t think I’d need.Back in New York. Same surveillance, new format. These pe
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
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
AriaI don’t know when sleep finally pulled me under, but I know the weight in my chest hadn’t lifted when it happened. Maybe I passed out more than drifted off—from exhaustion, from anger, from confusion. From the ache of feeling stupid again.My body aches in strange places. Not from pain—at least not entirely—but from memory.Last night comes crashing back. The weight of him. The heat. The way my own body betrayed me. Not that it was forced—no. That’s what makes it worse. I let it happen. I wanted it. Wanted him. In that moment, and maybe longer than I would want to admit.It was good.Too good.Better than anything I'd ever experienced before, which says less about him and more about the sad collection of men from my past.Still, waking up feels like being dropped right back into the mess I was trying to escape in the first place. The thoughts from the night before creep back in like shadows across the ceiling. That sting of feeling stupid. Used. And most of all, ignored.He didn’
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