One room left
1287 Words
The storm had passed, but the tension hadn’t.
By Monday morning, Aria told herself she was fine. Last night was nothing. Just a blackout, a little adrenaline, and Damian being his usual smug self. She would bury it, forget it, and move on.
Except fate never let her move on where Damian Hale was concerned.
“Pack a bag,” her boss barked as soon as she walked into the office. “Carter, Hale—you’re both flying to Chicago tonight. The investors want the pitch tomorrow morning.”
Aria’s pen nearly slipped from her hand. “Both of us?”
“Yes,” the boss said firmly. “You’re the two best. I want results.”
Aria’s heart sank. Traveling with Damian? Trapped in the same city, the same meetings, the same space for days? This was a nightmare.
She glanced across the table. Damian was already watching her, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, princess,” he murmured.
Her nails dug into her notebook. I’ll survive. Somehow.
---
The flight was torture.
Aria had hoped to avoid him, maybe bury herself in work or music. But of course, their seats were side by side—first class, thanks to the company.
“Afraid of flying?” Damian teased when she gripped the armrest during takeoff.
“I’m not afraid,” she snapped. “I just don’t like turbulence.”
“Relax.” His voice softened, unusually gentle. “If this plane goes down, at least you’ll die sitting next to someone handsome.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re impossible.”
He leaned back, satisfied. “And you love it.”
She turned away, staring out the window. But the truth was, his presence did something to her—a mix of annoyance and something far more dangerous.
By the time they landed, her nerves were shot.
---
At the hotel, her worst fears came true.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Carter,” the receptionist said apologetically. “There’s a system error. Only one room is available for your reservation.”
Aria blinked. “What do you mean one room? There should be two.”
“Yes, but with the storm delays, we’re fully booked. The only option is to share.”
Her stomach dropped. “Share? With him?”
Damian leaned against the counter, smug as ever. “Sounds perfect.”
“No,” Aria snapped. “Absolutely not. I’ll sleep in the lobby before I share a room with him.”
The receptionist flushed, clearly uncomfortable. “Ma’am, the lobby isn’t safe overnight. Please… it’s only for one night.”
Aria opened her mouth to argue again, but Damian spoke first. “We’ll take it.”
She whipped around. “Excuse me?”
He handed over his card, collected the key, and flashed her a wicked smile. “Come on, princess. Don’t look so horrified. I promise not to bite.”
---
The room was big but not big enough. A single king-sized bed sat in the center, pristine white sheets mocking her.
Aria stood frozen in the doorway. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Damian tossed his jacket onto the chair. “Relax. I’ll take one side, you take the other. I won’t touch you.” His grin turned sharp. “Unless you beg.”
Her cheeks flamed. “In your dreams.”
He arched a brow. “Funny, you keep bringing up my dreams.”
She groaned, dragging her suitcase into the corner. “This is hell.”
“Hell would be worse accommodations.” He stretched out on the bed deliberately, hands behind his head, muscles shifting beneath his shirt. “This is luxury.”
She threw a pillow at him. He caught it easily, smirking. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”
“Stop calling me adorable.”
“Why? Because it’s true?”
She spun away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her blush.
---
That night, she tried everything to stay on her side of the bed. She wrapped herself in blankets like armor, built a fortress of pillows, and kept her back turned firmly toward him.
But sleep was impossible. She could hear his breathing, steady and deep. She could feel the heat of his body, even with space between them. The tension buzzed in the dark, louder than any storm.
Finally, somewhere past midnight, she gave up.
“Damian?” she whispered.
He didn’t move. Didn’t answer.
She thought maybe he was asleep—until his voice came low, rough, and closer than she expected.
“Yes, princess?”
Her breath hitched. He was facing her. Their noses were inches apart in the dim glow of the city lights seeping through the curtains.
“I… nothing. Forget it.”
But he didn’t let it go.
“Tell me.” His voice was softer now, coaxing.
She swallowed hard. “Why do you enjoy tormenting me so much?”
A pause. Then his lips curved into the faintest smile.
“Because you’re the only one who fights back.”
Her chest tightened.
“And because,” he added, his gaze dipping to her lips, “when you’re mad at me, I know I have your full attention.”
Her pulse thundered. The air between them thickened, unbearable. She wanted to pull back, to throw another pillow, to run—anything to break this spell.
But she didn’t move. Neither did he.
For one breathless, dangerous second, she thought he might kiss her.
Instead, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and whispered, “Goodnight, Aria.”
Then he turned away, leaving her staring at his back, heart racing, skin on fire.
She didn’t sleep a single second after that.
---
The next morning was worse.
She woke early, showered quickly, and dressed in her sharpest suit, determined to bury the memory of last night.
But when Damian emerged from the bathroom, steam curling around him, towel hanging low on his hips, all her determination went up in flames.
“Do you mind?” she snapped, turning away.
He chuckled. “What, this?” He gestured lazily to his bare chest. “It’s just skin, Carter. Unless you’re looking too hard.”
“I’m not—!” she cut herself off, cheeks blazing.
His grin widened. “Sure you’re not.”
By the time they made it to the meeting, Aria was convinced she’d go insane.
But standing beside him, watching him charm investors with smooth confidence, she felt something shift. He wasn’t just arrogant—he was brilliant. Calculated. And when he glanced at her mid-presentation, nodding for her to take the floor, she realized something even more dangerous.
They were unstoppable together.
---
The investors loved them. The pitch was flawless. When the deal was sealed, the clients insisted on a celebratory dinner.
Aria forced herself through polite conversation, but her mind was elsewhere—on Damian’s hand brushing hers under the table, on the way his gaze lingered a little too long.
By the time they returned to the hotel, her nerves were stretched thin.
And when the elevator doors closed around them, silence thick in the air, she finally cracked.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she burst out.
“Like what?” His voice was low, amused.
“Like you’re—like you want—” She faltered, words catching in her throat.
His smile was slow, devastating. “Like I want you?”
Her heart stopped.
“That’s because I do.”
The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. He stepped out casually, leaving her rooted in place, her world spinning.
For once, Damian Hale had left her speechless.
- Writer
