Damon"So, firstly, background check, then a not-so-crazy fuck buddy. What else? What am I missing?" Kingsley's voice cuts clean through my thoughts, snapping me back into the room.He’s been watching me with that sharp, knowing look—the one he saves for when he’s on the verge of prying something out of me, like a detective cornering his only suspect."I think that’s about it," I reply, running a hand over my jaw, trying not to sound as worn out as I feel. "I'll let you know if something else comes up."His eyes stay fixed on me for a second too long. I already know what’s coming. He leans back into his seat, arms crossed like he’s settling in for a movie. Great."Alright. So…" he drags the word out like a fishing line, and I shake my head."Go on, Kingsley," I say, already regretting ever coming here. The man lives for this."I was just wondering…" he starts, eyes lighting up with a kind of devilish glee, "what happened in Paris? And what did you do afterwards? Because I’m certain th
AriaThe morning unfolds slowly, like it already knows the weight it carries. Light spills into the room in hazy lines, brushing over the untouched side of my bed. I glance through the slightly open adjoining door to his room. Again, he's not here.Not that I expected him to be. He’s mastered the art of disappearing before dawn, especially when things get too quiet between us. Quiet, not in the peaceful way, but the kind that fills every corner with questions and the ghosts of things left unsaid.Slipping out of bed, I pad toward the bathroom, moving slowly, almost carefully, like I might bump into another memory. The shower is quick, my mind already racing ahead, trying not to land on him—on the dresser, on the way his breath caught when our bodies met, on how fast he walked away.Everything in this house reminds me of him. Of us. Of the performance. The pretence.Downstairs, the dining room is still and clean, the scent of fresh bread and eggs warming the air. Eunice sits at the fa
AriaIt starts with a knock. Soft, respectful, but firm enough to ruin any illusion of quiet."Ma'am," the maid says from behind the door. "Miss Eunice requests your presence in the studio. It’s for the gala preparations."Right. The gala. Damon mentioned it weeks ago in that clipped tone of his, like it was just another box on our never-ending list of lies to check off, and I hadn't thought about it since.I roll out of bed slowly, still a little groggy, and make my way across the room. The house is too quiet, which means Damon’s not around. Not that it changes anything. The silence in our fake-marriage mansion has started to feel like a third presence. Watching. Waiting.The studio is alive with movement the second I step in. From the fabrics draped over racks, to sequins catching the light from the high windows. Stylists buzz around me before I even get a word out. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, Eunice appears, hands folded neatly."Don’t look so scared, darling. We’re just
Damon"Mr. Stone. There's someone looking for you. They say it's urgent."The server's voice cuts through the growing headache at the base of my skull. Perfect. Just in time to save me from myself."Stay here. I won't be long," I say to Ava, lowering my voice so only she hears.Her face gives nothing away, but something in the way she folds her arms across her chest says she’s fine with me disappearing.I follow the server, my steps quick but controlled. "What's the problem?" I ask, keeping my tone sharp enough that he gets that I’m not in the mood for games."They said a VIP guest was missing, Sir.""Missing? What the hell does that even mean?""I don't know, Sir. That’s all they told me."Just as my patience starts wearing thin, a man in a black suit—one of the gala's coordinators—approaches. "He's been found, Sir. Sorry to have disturbed your evening."Figures.I wave them off and make a sharp turn back toward the balcony. Waste of my damn time.But as I get closer, something clenc
AriaThe door clicks shut behind me. A small, satisfying sound. Like drawing a boundary no one else can cross.Crossing to my dresser, I kneel, unlock the drawer, and pull out my phone.The last message blinks up at me:"You're getting warmer."My fingers hover, and instinct wins over caution.Who are you? I type.The reply is almost instant:"I know you. That's all that matters."Another ping:"Ava. I know where she is."I barely breathe.Another:"I could help you find her. I know you're trapped in that arrangement, for the wrong reasons."My fingers move again, sharp and frantic:How did you get this number?Then another reply comes:"Gotta run. Reach out when you're serious about helping yourself."The phone screen dims, and I shove it back into the drawer and lock it, the tiny key cold between my fingers.Panic grows low and hot in my chest. It could be a trap. It probably is.But even traps can lead to truth.I can’t keep doing nothing.Tomorrow. Or the day after. I’ll find a wa
DamonShe walks away without a word, and I just stand there, the silence she leaves behind slamming harder than anything she said tonight.For a moment, the house feels like it tilts under the weight of it. The tension. The things we won't say.I rake a hand through my hair, breathing out slowly.Good. Let her walk away. Let her be pissed. Let her stay mad enough to forget whatever stupid weakness still tugs between us like a frayed wire.Before I can even turn toward the stairs, my phone vibrates against my palm. I glance down. The security company.Great. Exactly what I need right now.“Stone,” I answer, voice flat.“Good evening, sir. Sorry for the late call. We’ve flagged some new risks on your perimeter. We’ve done a system update—new access codes, cameras, exit protocols,” the man says in that clipped professional tone.“And?”“Well, seeing the unique... circumstances of your household," —he clears his throat— "both registered residents need to complete the walkthrough and sign
Damon“What? Put me through to them. Right now,” I bark out, my voice cutting sharp through the early morning haze.“Alright, boss,” the guard says, backing out quickly. I shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary, already feeling my blood pressure climbing.The phone rings, not even three seconds later, and I snatch it up.“The logs? What am I hearing? What about them?”“They've been tampered with. This time, it's bad. Worse than before. We’re going to have to recommend an evacuation. At least you and your wife. For some days, maybe a week tops,” the security head says, tone grim.For a second, the words don’t land.Then they do.“What the hell are you on about?” I snap. “I didn’t pay that much money to be thrown out of my house in under a day. It was just last night that we confirmed the updated protocols. With that man. Whatever his name was.”There’s a beat of hesitation on the other end.Then—"What man, sir?”I freeze.“What the hell do you mean, what man?
AriaThe second my eyes peel open, confusion sinks its claws into me.I blink hard. Once. Twice.I'm not in my room.Soft morning light streams across unfamiliar sheets.Oh.Of course.His room. His bed.'It's you again, A, doing the very thing you said you wouldn't — drifting closer to Damon Stone like a fool,' The voice in my head lashes at me.My legs swing off the bed before I can think better of it. The coldness of the floor beneath my feet jolts me more awake.Through the slightly open balcony doors, I catch sight of him — Damon — leaning against the railing, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants.Staring off into nothing, like he’s carrying the weight of the whole damn world on his back."You up?" His voice cuts through the air. He doesn't even turn around.How the hell does he do that?Does he have eyes at the back of his head now?"Yeah," I say, my voice low. "Thanks for letting me crash here."He doesn’t respond. Just keeps staring
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
Aria “No, Damon!” I snap. “Don’t you dare. I never had you. Not really. I had a jailer. A freaking captor. A man who dragged me out of a hospital bed and threw me into this freaking cage!”He flinches. Just slightly.But it’s enough.“And I fought. Every damn day. I tried to hold on to what little I remembered. To what I felt. To my name. But you crushed all of it under your suspicion.”“You could’ve died out there,” he says, voice low, dangerous.“Then maybe I’d finally be free.”Silence.He walks toward me. Slowly.I should move. But I don’t.“I searched every fucking corner of that alley,” he says, voice hoarse. “And when I found your phone, I thought—” He stops himself. Shakes his head.“I thought I was too late.”Emotion clogs my throat.But I don’t look away.“You’re angry because I dropped my phone?”“I’m angry,” he growls, hesitating for a bit, “because I care.”That breaks me.Just like that.Because it’s the last thing I expect to hear. From him.The air crackles.But I don
AriaNot long after I doze off, a sharp pain splits through my head, jolting me awake. It pulses once. Then again. I wince, eyes clamped shut as if that alone could dull the sting.When I manage to pry them open, he's already seated beside me in a chair. A glass of water and a pill sit in his hand like some unspoken offering."I should have given you this before you slept," he says, voice even but clipped. "Get up."It comes out more like an order than concern.I try to push myself up, but a dull ache shoots through my leg. I flinch. Damon stands and sits on the edge of the bed, one arm supporting my back as he helps me up gently.That gentleness throws me off more than the pain.He's been like this since yesterday. Quiet, calculated, and gentle in ways he’s never allowed himself to be."Thank you," I murmur."Here. Take this," he replies, handing me the pills and water.I swallow it quickly, passing the empty glass back to him. He places it on the side table without a word.Then, str
DamonThe car pulls in minutes later. Leo jumps out, opens the backseat. I ease her inside, wrapping her in a spare blanket from the trunk.She doesn’t fight it. Just shivers, eyes closed, the shell of her body telling a story she won’t say out loud.I climb in beside her.“Drive,” I tell Leo.The ride is silent.The engine hums. The wipers slice the rain. Her breathing is steady, shallow, like the whole night’s events have finally caught up to her.I glance at her.No mascara.No lipstick.No sharp retort sitting on her tongue.Just a girl who ran too far, chasing someone who may not want to be found.And all I want in this moment is to reach across the seat and hold her hand.But I don’t.Because I’m still the monster.Have been. Still am.I’m cut out of my reverie by the sound of Leo’s voice.“Where to? Home or?” He asks, his voice tight with hesitation, eyes flicking back to the rearview mirror.He already knows the answer. Or at least the dilemma. We can’t go home.Eunice will sn