Aria’s POV
What the hell was this motherfucker doing here?
I had hoped he couldn’t tell it was me and he couldn’t .. but what if he figured out soon?
The thought sent a jolt of panic through me. Standing before us was the Devil himself—the man who had ruined my life.
He wore a fitted yellow shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing just enough of his toned chest to be infuriatingly distracting. His pants were impeccably tailored, matching his polished brown shoes. With effortless ease, he swept his wavy hair back, the gesture exuding a casual arrogance that made my stomach twist.
*God, he was handsome.*
It was an unwelcome observation. He looked younger than he had any right to, his sharp features and confident stance commanding attention. I hated that I couldn’t tear my eye
