CHAPTER FOUR

Aria's POV

I couldn’t breathe.

The moment his lips touched hers, something sharp and unfamiliar sliced through me, knocking the air straight from my lungs.

I had seen Damian before—cold, unreadable, untouchable—but I had never seen him like this.

So brazen.

So bold.

So completely unbothered by the fact that I was standing right there.

Why?

Why did it feel like he had done it for me?

My fingers curled around the handle of the silver tray. I needed to move, needed to get out of here before I embarrassed myself.

I turned on my heel and hurried out of the room, my steps quicker than they should have been, my pulse hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears.

What the hell was that?

My hands were shaking by the time I reached the kitchen. I set the tray down a little too hard, the porcelain cups rattling loudly against the surface.

“Miss Daniels?” Mrs. Hathaway’s sharp voice pulled me out of my daze.

I flinched, straightening. “Yes, ma’am?”

She narrowed her eyes, scanning my face like she could see through me.

“Aren't you supposed to be serving Miss Serena’s tea?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, heat flooding my cheeks. Right. The tea. The only reason I was in that godforsaken room in the first place.

“I—I’ll get it right away,” I stammered, reaching for the porcelain teapot. My hands were still trembling as I poured the lukewarm liquid into the delicate cup.

Breathe, Aria. Breathe.

This wasn’t my business.

Damian Blackwood could kiss whoever he damn well pleased.

It didn’t matter.

I placed the fresh tea onto a new tray and forced myself to walk back in there like nothing had happened. Like my heart wasn’t still hammering in my chest, like my mind wasn’t racing with questions I had no right to ask.

Then, I stepped into the room… and froze.

They hadn’t even noticed me.

Serena was still in his arms, but the kiss was different now.

Deeper.

Hungrier.

Bordering on filthy.

Her fingers twisted in his dark hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching as his tongue plunged into her mouth, slow and possessive. She moaned softly, parting her lips wider, letting him taste her, consume her, own her.

Her body practically melted against him, her robe slipping open at the top, revealing the bare curve of her breast. Damian groaned low in his throat, his large hands gripping her waist before sliding lower, his fingers digging into the plush swell of her ass.

He pulled her flush against him, his erection pressing against her through the thin fabric of her lingerie. She gasped, grinding against him, her nails dragging down his chest as he dipped his head and latched onto the exposed skin of her neck.

“Damian,” she breathed, arching as his mouth traveled lower.

His other hand slid up, slipping beneath the delicate silk, his fingers skimming the bare heat between her thighs.

A slow, teasing stroke.

Serena whimpered.

—

I sucked in a sharp breath.

The room tilted.

Something hot and ugly curled in my stomach, twisting like a knife. I shouldn’t be watching this.

But I couldn’t look away.

Not when I saw the way his body responded to her. The way his hands moved, the low sound of satisfaction rumbling in his chest as she whimpered against his lips.

God.

My fingers slipped.

The tray crashed to the floor.

The porcelain shattered.

Serena jerked back, eyes blazing with irritation. Her lips were kiss-swollen, glossy from his mouth, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

But it wasn’t her gaze that burned into me.

It was his.

Damian turned his head slowly, his dark eyes locking onto mine, his chest still heaving slightly. His grip on her waist loosened, but he didn’t step away, I couldn’t see his erection pressing through his trousers, a huge bulge. 

I forced myself to tear my eyes away. 

I expected him to say something.

No.

He just stared at me.

Like he wanted to see how much I had seen.

How much it had affected me.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

All I knew was that I had stepped into something too raw, too intimate, too private.

And I needed to get the hell out.

—

Heat flooded my face. Oh, God.

“I—I’m so sorry!” My voice trembled, and I dropped to my knees instantly, my hands scrambling to pick up the delicate shards before Mrs. Hathaway could have my head. “I didn’t mean to…”

Serena’s sharp, icy laugh cut off my frantic apologies. I should never have returned.

“Are you serious?” she scoffed. “Can you even manage a simple tray without ruining everything?”

I flinched.

She stepped closer, crossing her arms as she stared down at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her designer heels.

“When I become the mistress of this house, I won’t tolerate clumsy little maids dropping things at my feet. You’ve ruined this carpet, you silly little thing.”

Mistress of the house.

The words stabbed into me before I could stop them.

But Serena wasn’t finished. She smirked, tossing a glance at Damian. Like they were in on some private joke.

“I just hope she won’t be involved in the wedding service,” she mused, her voice thick with mock concern. “I don’t need any form of embarrassment on my big day. This one here is incompetent.”

My hands stilled.

Wedding.

Their wedding.

They’re engaged?

Something inside me shattered, just like the porcelain beneath my fingers.

And then—

A slow, deep chuckle.

“Now, now,” Damian drawled lazily, amusement lacing his voice. “Leave the little girl alone.”

Little girl?

My stomach twisted in a new, humiliating way.

Serena laughed, as if he had just said something charming. I clenched my jaw, focusing on the broken pieces beneath me, willing my hands to stop trembling.

Because I didn’t know what was worse—

Hearing that he was engaged.

Or knowing that to him, I was nothing more than a little girl.