Damian Wolfe
I hadn't expected her to show up so soon.
The door clicked open quietly, but I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Aria had a way of making her presence felt, like a storm rolling in. The subtle click of her heels was followed by the faint scent of her perfume—sultry, captivating, and dangerously intoxicating.
"Damian," she said, her voice low and steady, as though she didn't even care that she was standing on the precipice of something dangerous. Her tone, however, wasn't as confident as it usually was. There was something different tonight. I could hear the edge of uncertainty in her voice—something I hadn't expected, but I damn well knew I couldn't ignore.
I turned slowly to face her, crossing my arms as I watched her take a step into the room. The confidence she usually wore like armor seemed to be slipping, replaced by something raw, almost vulnerable.
"You're late," I said, my voice even, almost teasing. But the words didn't come out as playfully as I intended. The truth was, I was already thinking about everything she didn't know. Everything I had yet to reveal to her.
Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You're the one who's been avoiding me," she shot back, her words cutting through the tension that hung heavy between us.
I smirked, taking a step closer to her. "Avoiding you?" I repeated. "I don't avoid anything, Aria. I've just been waiting for you to catch up."
She stood her ground, her chin tilting up slightly in that way she did when she wanted to look unaffected. But I could see it in her eyes—there was something more here. Something she wasn't saying.
"I'm not here to play games with you," she said, her voice now almost a whisper. "I need to know where we stand. Where you stand."
I felt my pulse quicken. The question was simple enough, but I knew the answer wouldn't be. What could I tell her? That I wanted to break her, ruin her, make her kneel at my feet like every other woman I'd ever toyed with? Or that I was slowly losing my control over the situation? That every day I spent with her, every glance, every fight, was driving me further into an abyss I wasn't sure I could escape?
I opened my mouth to speak, but she was quicker.
"You owe me the truth, Damian," she said, her voice cracking just slightly, the faintest tremor in it. "I want to know what you're hiding. Why this feels like more than just business to you. What do you really want from me?"
The words she spoke—innocent enough on the surface—felt like a confession. Like she was finally giving herself permission to ask the questions she'd been avoiding. And damn it, that hurt. It hurt more than I was willing to admit.
I stepped closer to her, so close now that I could feel the heat radiating off her body. She didn't back away.
"Aria…" I started, but stopped myself. The words weren't coming easy. I couldn't let her see how much power she had over me, how much she had already begun to unravel my carefully constructed empire.
Instead, I reached out, my fingers brushing against her arm, feeling the soft warmth of her skin beneath my touch. The sensation was electric, and I saw her body tense in response.
"I can't tell you everything," I said softly, my voice low, almost pained. "But I can tell you this... Everything I've done, everything I've built, is because of what your father did to me. It's personal, Aria. This isn't just business for me, no matter how much I wish it was."
Her eyes widened at my words, but she didn't pull away. There was a flicker of something—surprise, curiosity? Maybe even a hint of fear—but it was quickly replaced by something else. Something that made her lips part, her breath hitch.
"I didn't ask for this, Damian," she said, her voice trembling now. "I didn't ask to be part of your war."
Her words hit me harder than I expected. For a moment, I just stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She wasn't just some pawn. She wasn't just another piece in this sick game I was playing. She was a person. A woman who had lost everything because of the decisions made by the men in her life.
I felt the weight of my own choices suddenly, the reality of what I was dragging her into, crashing down on me.
"I know," I said quietly, my thumb brushing against her wrist. "But it's too late for both of us now."
The room seemed to close in on us, the air thick with something unspoken, something dangerous. And before I could stop myself, I was leaning in, closing the distance between us until I could feel her breath on my lips.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief moment, everything stopped. The world. The fight. The lies. All of it.
I kissed her.
The kiss was fierce. Hungry. A mix of frustration and something darker, something that had been building for days, weeks, since the moment I first laid eyes on her. My hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her in place as I deepened the kiss, feeling the heat rise between us.
She didn't resist. Instead, she kissed me back, her body pressing closer to mine as her hands found their way to my chest. It wasn't tender. It wasn't gentle. This was raw, primal—a fight for control.
When we finally pulled away, the air between us felt even more electric, charged with everything we hadn't said, everything we couldn't say.
"Don't do this, Damian," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
But I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't asking me to stop. She was asking herself why she couldn't.
And I knew, deep down, that there was no turning back for either of us.