ARIA’S POV
After days of working at Blackwood Enterprises....Aria felt like she’d aged ten years.
The work itself was manageable. She’d gotten good at anticipating Damien’s needs, at handling the constant demands, at being the perfect assistant.
But the emotional toll was crushing. Every day brought new tests, new torture, new monts of hope followed by devastating distance.
She was exhausted. Hollowed out. Running on fus and sheer stubbornness.
Which was why, when Marcus texted her at 5 PM asking if she wanted to grab dinner after work, she said yes without thinking.
I need a break. Need to be around soone who doesn’t make my heart hurt. Dinner sounds perfect.
His response: Great! How about Rossi’s? That Italian place on 5th? 7 PM?
Perfect. See you there.
She told herself it was innocent. Just dinner with a friend. A chance to decompress, to talk to soone who wasn’t Damien, to rember what normal human interaction felt like.
She didn’t tell Damien. Didn’t ntion it when she brought him his 3 PM coffee. Didn’t say anything when she packed up her desk at 6 PM.
"Plans tonight?" he asked as she was leaving, his voice carefully casual.
"Dinner with a friend from dical school," she said, keeping her tone light. "Need to decompress after this week."
Sothing flickered in his eyes. "What friend?"
"Marcus. We worked together at Mount Sinai before I.....before I ca here."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Marcus. The one you had lunch with a few weeks ago?"
"We didn’t have lunch. We just talked at the hospital." She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Is there a problem?"
"No. No problem." But his voice was cold. "Have a good evening."
She left, but she could feel his eyes on her all the way to the elevator.
Rossi’s was exactly what Aria needed....warm, cozy, with soft lighting and the comforting sll of garlic and tomato sauce. The kind of place that felt like a hug after a hard week.
Marcus was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He stood when he saw her, his smile genuine and uncomplicated.
"Aria! You made it." He hugged her...a friendly, platonic hug that felt like the first normal human contact she’d had in days. "You look exhausted."
"I am exhausted." She sat down gratefully, accepting the nu the waiter offered. "This week has been...intense."
"I bet. Working for Damien Blackwood? I can’t even imagine. The man’s a legend in business circles. Brilliant but supposedly impossible to work for."
"He’s...." She stopped. How did she even begin to describe what Damien was to her? "He has high standards. But I’m learning a lot."
"That’s diplomatic." Marcus grinned. "Co on, you can be honest with . Is he as terrifying as everyone says?"
"Sotis." She took a sip of the water the waiter had poured. "But he’s also...he’s brilliant. And fair. And when he actually acknowledges that you’ve done good work, it feels like...." She stopped again, aware she was revealing too much.
"Like you’ve won the lottery?" Marcus suggested. "Yeah, I’ve heard that about him. Demanding as hell but when he gives praise, it ans sothing."
They ordered...pasta for her, risotto for Marcus....and fell into easy conversation. Marcus told her about the chaos at Mount Sinai, the new attending who was driving everyone crazy, the patient drama that Aria had missed since leaving.
It was comfortable. Normal. Exactly what she needed.
For the first ti in a week, Aria felt herself relaxing. Felt the tight knot of tension in her chest loosening. Felt like she could breathe without it hurting.
Marcus made her laugh with a story about a patient who’d tried to diagnose himself using WebMD and had convinced himself he was dying of three different rare diseases.
"And then," Marcus said, barely containing his own laughter, "he demanded we run tests for all three. When we told him it was just a sinus infection, he accused us of dical malpractice!"
Aria laughed.....really laughed....for the first ti in what felt like forever.
It felt good. Felt normal. Felt like being herself instead of the tightly controlled, constantly tested version of herself she had to be at Blackwood Enterprises.
They were halfway through their al when Aria’s phone buzzed.
She glanced at it. A text from an unknown number she recognized as Damien.
Where are you?
She frowned. Why did he care where she was? She was off the clock.
She typed back: Rossi’s on 5th. Having dinner with Marcus like I said. Why?
No response.
She set her phone down and returned to her conversation with Marcus.
"Sorry about that. Work stuff."
"At 7 PM? Does Blackwood ever give you a break?"
"Not really." She took another bite of her pasta. "But I knew what I was signing up for."
"Did you though? Because Aria, I’m worried about you. You’ve lost weight. You look tired all the ti. You seem...I don’t know. Different. More stressed."
"It’s just an adjustnt. New job, new responsibilities. I’m fine."
"You keep saying that. But I’m not sure I believe you."
Before Aria could respond, the restaurant door opened.
And Damien walked in.
With Julian.
Aria’s heart stopped.
He was here. At the sa restaurant. At the exact sa ti she was having dinner with Marcus.
Coincidence? Or.....
No. Not coincidence. Nothing with Damien was ever coincidence.
He’d followed her. Or had Julian bring him here. Had orchestrated this sohow.
Their eyes t across the restaurant. His expression was dark, controlled, but she could see the anger beneath the surface.
The host led Damien and Julian to a table on the opposite side of the restaurant....far enough away that conversation wouldn’t be overheard, but close enough that they could see each other clearly.
"Oh shit," Marcus muttered. "Is that...."
"Damien Blackwood. Yes." Aria forced herself to look away, to focus on Marcus. "Just...just ignore him. He’s here with his friend. It’s fine."
But it wasn’t fine. Every nerve in her body was screaming awareness. She could feel Damien’s eyes on her, could sense his presence like a physical weight.
"Aria." Marcus leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Be honest with . What’s going on between you and Blackwood?"
"Nothing. He’s my boss. That’s all."
"That’s not what it looks like from here. The man walked in, saw you with , and looked like he wanted to commit murder. That’s not a normal boss reaction."
"It’s complicated."
"Clearly." Marcus sat back, studying her. "Are you in love with him?"
The question hit like a punch to the gut.
"I....that’s not....we’re not...."
"You are. Oh my god, Aria. You’re in love with your boss."
"Keep your voice down!" She glanced toward Damien’s table. He was pretending to look at the nu, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.
"Does he know?"
"Yes. But it doesn’t matter. We can’t....there’s too much history. Too many complications. It’s not going to happen."
"But you want it to happen."
"What I want is irrelevant." She pushed her pasta around her plate, no longer hungry. "Can we please just....can we talk about sothing else? Anything else?"
Marcus looked like he wanted to push further, but he let it go. They tried to return to their previous easy conversation, but the atmosphere had changed.
Damien’s presence was suffocating. Aria could feel him watching her, could sense his anger and jealousy radiating across the restaurant.
At one point, Marcus reached across the table to emphasize a point, his hand briefly touching hers.
Innocent. Completely innocent.
But when Aria glanced toward Damien’s table, she saw his hands clenched into fists, his jaw so tight she could see the muscle jumping.
He was furious.
"I need to use the restroom," she said abruptly, standing. "I’ll be right back."
She fled to the bathroom, locked herself in a stall, and tried to breathe.
This was a disaster. Damien was here, watching her have dinner with another man, clearly losing his mind with jealousy.
And part of her....a dark, petty part....was glad. Glad that he was feeling even a fraction of what she’d felt watching Victoria touch him.
She was washing her hands, trying to compose herself, when the bathroom door opened.
She looked up, expecting another patron.
Instead, Damien walked in.
Into the won’s bathroom.
"What are you....you can’t be in here!"
"I don’t care." He moved toward her with predatory intent, and she backed up until she hit the sink. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Having dinner with a friend. Which is allowed. I’m off the clock."
"With a man." His voice was dangerously low. "With a man who’s clearly interested in you. Who keeps touching you. Who keeps looking at you like...."
"Like what? Like I’m a person? Like I matter? Maybe I need that right now since you treat like..."
She didn’t get to finish.
His mouth crashed down on hers.
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