Two Days Later
Aria stared at the cream-colored envelope on her desk, her na written in perfect calligraphy across the front.
She’d received it this morning via ssenger....hand-delivered to the Blackwood Enterprises reception desk with instructions that it be given directly to Miss Aria Chen.
The return address made her stomach tighten: Victoria Ashford.
"You’ve been staring at that for ten minutes," Damien’s voice ca from her office doorway. "Are you going to open it or should I have it thrown away?"
Aria looked up to find him leaning against the doorfra, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of amusent and concern. He’d been in etings all morning but had apparently found ti to check on her between conference calls.
"It’s from Victoria," she said unnecessarily.
"I gathered that from the fact that you’re looking at it like it might explode." He crossed to her desk, picked up the envelope, and examined it. "Want to open it?"
"No, I should...." She took it back from him. "I should handle it myself."
She slid her finger under the seal and pulled out a single sheet of heavy cardstock. The sa perfect calligraphy covered the page.
Dear Aria,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to reach out personally to apologize for my behavior at Bergdorf Goodman the other day. I was having a difficult morning, and I allowed my emotions to get the better of . That was inexcusable.
I spoke out of turn and created an uncomfortable situation for you. You handled it with far more grace than I deserved, and I’m genuinely sorry for putting you in that position.
I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I want you to know that I wish you and Damien every happiness. He deserves to be with soone who makes him happy, and it’s clear that you do.
If you’re willing, I’d like to extend an olive branch. Perhaps we could have coffee soti? I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to start fresh.
With sincere apologies,Victoria Ashford
Aria read it twice, then handed it to Damien without a word.
He scanned it quickly, his expression darkening with each line.
"It’s a trap," he said flatly.
"Probably," Aria agreed. "But it’s a very well-written trap. Gracious, apologetic, mature. She sounds completely reasonable."
"She’s never been reasonable a day in her life." Damien tossed the letter onto her desk. "This is Harold Ashford’s work. Victoria doesn’t apologize. She doesn’t extend olive branches. And she sure as hell doesn’t wish us happiness."
"You think her father is involved?"
"I know he is. Harold doesn’t do anything without a strategic purpose, and right now his purpose is making sure Victoria gets what she wants....which is , without you in the picture." He moved behind her chair, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "The question is what they’re really planning."
Aria leaned back into his touch, feeling the tension in her neck ease slightly under his fingers.
"What if she’s genuine? What if she really does want to move past this?"
"She’s not, and she doesn’t." His hands worked at the knots in her shoulders with practiced ease. "But here’s what concerns : this letter makes her look good. Mature, apologetic, gracious. If you ignore it or respond negatively, you look like the unreasonable one."
"So it’s a no-win situation."
"Not necessarily. You respond politely, thank her for the apology, but remain appropriately cautious. You don’t commit to coffee or any private etings. You stay professional and courteous without giving her any ammunition to use against you."
Aria tilted her head back to look at him. "You’ve thought about this."
"I’ve been dealing with the Ashfords my entire adult life. Harold doesn’t make moves without thinking three steps ahead. This letter is step one. The coffee eting would be step two....probably sowhere public where she can be seen being gracious and friendly while subtly undermining you. Step three would be whatever trap they’re actually setting."
"What do you think they want?"
Damien’s hands stilled on her shoulders. "My grandfather’s approval. Or rather, they want to ensure you don’t get it. Victoria knows that my grandfather’s opinion matters to . If they can make you look unsuitable in his eyes..."
"You’d have to choose between us," Aria finished quietly.
"I’d choose you." His voice was firm, absolute. "Every ti. Without hesitation. But they’re banking on the assumption that I’d choose family legacy over personal happiness. That I’m too much of a Blackwood to throw away generations of reputation for a woman I’ve known less than a year."
Aria stood, turning to face him. "And are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Too much of a Blackwood to choose over your grandfather’s approval?"
He pulled her against him, his hands framing her face with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity in his eyes.
"I am absolutely my grandfather’s grandson," he said softly. "I’m strategic, calculating, and ruthless when I need to be. I value the Blackwood legacy and everything it represents. But here’s what the Ashfords don’t understand: you’re not separate from that legacy anymore. You’re part of it. Part of . And I don’t sacrifice what’s mine for anyone’s approval....not even my grandfather’s."
He kissed her then, deep and claiming, a physical reinforcent of his words.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
"Write your polite response," he said. "Be gracious and professional. And then let worry about whatever the Ashfords are planning. That’s my job....protecting you from people who want to use you as a pawn in their gas."
"I don’t need protecting....."
"I know you don’t. You’re brilliant and strong and perfectly capable of fighting your own battles." His thumb brushed across her cheekbone. "But you shouldn’t have to. Not anymore. Not when you have ."
Aria felt sothing tighten in her chest....that overwhelming sensation of being seen, valued, claid in ways that went far beyond the physical.
"I love you," she said softly.
"I know. I love you too. Which is why...." He glanced at his watch. "I’m clearing my schedule for the rest of the afternoon."
"Damien, you have the Singapore investors at three....."
"Julian can handle it. I briefed him this morning just in case." His hands moved to her waist. "Right now, I need to remind you exactly who you belong to. Need to mark you so thoroughly that when you write that polite response to Victoria Ashford, you’re still feeling between your thighs."
Heat flooded through her at his words, at the dark promise in his eyes.
"Here?" she managed. "or in your office?"
"Not in my office." He took her hand, pulling her toward the room attached to his office. "Sowhere more private. Sowhere I can make you scream without the entire executive floor hearing."
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