Her Dangerous Affairs

Aria Pov:I woke up to the sound of my own heartbeat, too loud in the quiet of my penthouse. The letter still sat on my nightstand, its black ink taunting me like a ghost that wouldn’t leave. I hadn’t slept much, not with the memory of those headlights, that SUV, the way it hunted me down the road. And now, two strangers were in my home, their presence like a noose tightening around my neck.I threw on a silk robe, the kind that cost more than most people’s rent, and stormed into the living room, ready to take back some control. Damien was already there, standing by the window, his broad shoulders cutting a sharp silhouette against the morning sun. He didn’t turn, but I knew he sensed me. It was in the way his head tilted, just a fraction, like a predator catching a scent.“Slept well, Miss Sinclair?” His voice was cold, formal, like he was addressing a client, not a person.I crossed my arms, glaring at his back. “Don’t call me that. It’s Aria. And no, I didn’t sleep well, thanks t

Aria Pov:The safe house was a fortress disguised as a mansion, all cold steel and glass tucked away in the hills outside the city. It was my father’s creation, a place he’d built for “emergencies,” though he’d never told me what that meant. Now, as I stood in the sterile living room, the walls lined with monitors blinking security feeds, I felt like a bird in a gilded cage. Damien and Kade had driven me here at dawn, after that shadow, or drone, or whatever it was, had flickered past my penthouse window. The air was thick with tension, their presence was a constant reminder that my life wasn’t mine anymore.I paced the polished floor, my heels clicking, my phone clutched in my hand like a lifeline. Damien stood by the door, his black suit pristine, his eyes scanning the feeds with that unrelenting focus that made my skin itch. Kade sprawled on a leather couch, tossing that damn stress ball again, his tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves. Every thud of the ball agai

Aria’s POV:The tapping from last night still echoed in my head, a ghost that wouldn’t let me sleep. I lay on bed, staring at the ceiling, my heart thudding like it was trying to break free. The darkness outside the window felt alive, watching and waiting. I’d checked the glass myself after the sound stopped, my fingers trembling as I traced the frame, finding nothing. I didn't see scratches, no signs of anyone. But I wasn’t stupid. Someone had been there, or something. A drone, Damien had said. The word alone made my skin crawl.I should’ve called Damien and Kade the second I heard it. But pride is a stubborn bitch, and I didn’t want to be the girl who cried wolf. Not after Ethan’s betrayal had already stripped me raw, left me feeling like a fool who’d trusted the wrong person. So I stayed silent, letting the fear coil tighter in my chest until I couldn’t stand it anymore.I threw off the covers, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. The safe house was a tomb, everywhere was steril

Aria’s POV: The safe house was a cage, and I was done being its prisoner. Nate’s voice from last night, “Nobody cages you”, looped in my head, it was like a siren call to freedom. I clutched the key fob I’d swiped from the garage, my heart was hammering as I waited in my room. The delivery van was due at dawn, it was the perfect distraction I’d overheard Kade mention. That was my shot. I slipped into a tight black dress, traded my sneakers for heels, and checked the camera blind spot by the garage one last time in my mind. It was reckless, stupid even, but I needed to feel alive again, to drown out Ethan’s betrayal and the memory of Damien and Kade’s shirtless bodies burning through me. The van’s rumble echoed outside, and I moved very silently and fast, slipping through the safe house’s halls. The garage smelled of oil and metal, and I held my breath as I slid into my car, the engine purring to life. The city’s neon lights called me, Vibe’s pulse was a promising escape. I shov

Damien’s POV:She was going to be the death of me. Aria Sinclair was a blade, sharp and reckless, cutting through every wall I’d built. Her tearful apology last night, her trembling voice as she leaned into us, had cracked something in me I couldn’t repair. My duty to Alexander, watch her, report her moves, stay detached, was slipping, replaced by the memory of carrying her, her warmth against my chest, her green eyes raw with fear. Now, in the hotel suite’s sterile glow, the city lights bleeding through the windows, I watched her, restless on the couch, her sprained ankle propped like a taunt to her defiance. She was supposed to be resting, but Aria didn’t rest.I caught the creak of her door, my gut twisting as I moved to the hallway. She was slipping toward the elevator, her purse slung over her shoulder, hobbling on that damn ankle. Her black dress was gone, swapped for jeans and a hoodie, but she still looked like trouble, her eyes burning with that stubborn fire.“Aria,” I sa