"Am I?" She pushed off the wall, swaying slightly but managing to stay upright. "Because you’ve spent four days treating like I’m nothing. Like I don’t matter. Like that mont yesterday in the conference room ant nothing."
"That’s not....."
"So maybe I should let Mark flirt with . Maybe I should let him buy drinks and make laugh and treat like I’m worth sothing instead of like I’m...."
She didn’t get to finish.
Damien closed the distance between them in two strides, his hand gripping her upper arm....not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop her words.
"Don’t," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Don’t threaten with other n. Don’t pretend you’d ever let anyone else touch you. We both know that’s a lie."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Tears filled her eyes.....the alcohol stripping away her defenses. "How am I supposed to work beside you every day, feeling what I feel, wanting what I want, and getting nothing in return? How am I supposed to endure this, Damien? Tell how."
His grip on her arm loosened, his thumb brushing against her skin in a gesture that was almost tender.
"You’re drunk," he said finally. "You’re not thinking clearly."
"I’m thinking perfectly clearly. I’m just saying things I’m usually too afraid to say." She looked up at him, her vision slightly blurred with tears and alcohol. "I miss you. I miss you so much it physically hurts. I miss your touch. I miss your voice saying my na like it ans sothing. I miss feeling like I matter to you."
Sothing cracked in his expression. "You do matter. That’s the problem."
"Then why...."
"Because I’m terrified." The confession ca out harsh, raw. "Terrified of trusting you again and getting destroyed. Terrified of letting you close and having you betray . Terrified that loving you is going to kill ."
The words hung between them, devastating in their honesty.
"I won’t betray you again," Aria whispered. "I swear. I’ll never...."
"You can’t promise that. No one can promise that."
His hand was still on her arm, his thumb still making those small, unconscious circles that were driving her insane. "But you’re drunk. And I’m not having this conversation with you while you’re drunk. Co on. I’m taking you ho."
"I can get an Uber...."
"No. You can barely stand. I’m not letting you get into a stranger’s car in this condition." His tone left no room for argunt. "Wait here. I’ll tell Julian I’m leaving."
He released her arm and disappeared back toward the bar, leaving Aria leaning against the wall, her head spinning with alcohol and emotion and the ghost of his touch.
Two minutes later, he returned.
"Let’s go."
He didn’t take her arm again. Didn’t touch her. Just walked beside her as they exited the bar into the cold February night.
His car was parked in a nearby garage....a sleek black rcedes that probably cost more than most people’s houses. He opened the passenger door for her, steadying her elbow as she climbed in.
The interior was luxurious. Leather seats. Ambient lighting. The faint scent of his cologne everywhere.
Damien slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled out into traffic without saying a word.
Aria leaned her head against the window, watching the city lights blur past, and tried to ignore how much she wanted to reach over and touch him.
"Where do you live?" Damien asked, his voice carefully neutral.
She mumbled her mother’s address.
They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then Aria, emboldened by alcohol and misery and desperate longing, said the words she’d been holding back for days.
"I love you."
He didn’t respond. Just kept driving, his jaw tight.
"I love you so much," she continued, tears streaming down her face now. "Every day I love you more. Every mont I’m near you I love you more. And every second you treat like a stranger, I die a little bit inside. But I still love you. I can’t stop loving you."
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
"Did you hear ?" she asked. "I said I love you."
"I heard you." His voice was strained. "You’re drunk, Aria. You won’t even rember saying this tomorrow."
"Doesn’t make it less true."
"Doesn’t make it sothing I can respond to either. Not like this. Not when you’re not in control of yourself."
She laughed bitterly. "When am I ever in control? You control everything. When I work, when I speak, when I breathe. You control all of it."
"Because you gave that control. You agreed to it."
"I know. And I’d do it again. A thousand tis. Because even this....even the coldness and the distance and the torture....is better than not having you in my life at all."
He made a sound that might have been pain or frustration or both.
Then he pulled the car over.
They were in a dark, empty parking lot....so industrial area far from the bar, far from her apartnt. Isolated. Private.
Damien turned off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening.
"What are you doing?" Aria asked.
He didn’t answer. Just sat there, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, his breathing harsh in the quiet car.
"Damien?"
"I can’t drive like this," he finally said. "I can’t sit next to you while you tell you love and pretend it doesn’t affect . I can’t...." He stopped, his jaw clenching.
"Can’t what?"
He turned to face her, and the look in his eyes made her breath stop.
Hunger. Raw, desperate hunger.
"I can’t resist you when you’re like this. Vulnerable. Honest. Saying all the things I’ve been wanting to hear." His voice was rough, strained. "And I know I shouldn’t. I know you’re drunk. I know this is wrong. But Aria...."
He reached out, his hand cupping her face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the heat in his eyes.
"I’m going to kiss you. And tomorrow, you won’t rember. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and wonder why your lips feel swollen, why your body aches in strange ways. But you won’t rember this. And I’ll go back to being cold and distant and professional. Do you understand?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Say it. Say you understand."
"I understand. You’re going to kiss . And tomorrow I won’t rember."
"Good."
And then his mouth was on hers..
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