Chapter 4: Almost
593 Words
The car ride home was silent.
Too silent. The kind of silence that hummed between Aria’s ears and made her hyper-aware of every inch of space between her and Damien.
He hadn’t let go of her hand since they left the ballroom. Not when the driver opened the door. Not when they slid into the backseat. His thumb brushed over her knuckles every few seconds, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.
Aria stared out the window, trying to ignore the way her pulse still hadn’t slowed.
“That was reckless,” she said finally, voice low.
Damien didn’t look at her. “What was?”
“Dancing with me like that. Letting it look real.” She pulled her hand back, but he held on. “People are going to talk.”
“Let them talk.”
She turned to face him then. “This is a contract, Damien. Not a love story. You’re going to ruin it if you keep blurring the lines.”
His jaw tightened. The car’s interior lights caught the sharp angle of his profile, and for a second she remembered exactly why she’d fallen for him three years ago.
“I’m not blurring anything,” he said quietly. “I’m reminding you.”
“Reminding me of what?”
“That you’re mine.”
The word hit her like a slap.
Aria yanked her hand free this time. “I’m not yours, Damien. Not really. Not anymore.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he muttered, leaning back against the seat.
She wanted to be mad. She wanted to stay mad. But the way he said it low, frustrated, like it hurt him to say it made something in her chest ache.
The car slowed to a stop in front of the penthouse.
Damien got out first, holding the door for her like it was automatic. Like old habits died hard.
Aria stepped out, heels clicking against the pavement, and tried to walk past him.
He caught her arm.
“Damien”
“Don’t,” he said. His voice was rough now. Undone. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it too.”
Aria’s breath caught.
He stepped closer, backing her against the car. Not aggressive. Just inevitable. His hand came up, thumb brushing over her cheek, wiping away nothing.
“You can walk away tomorrow,” he whispered. “You can act like this was all business. But I saw you tonight, Aria. When I kissed your temple. When we danced. You didn’t pull away.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Because he was right.
She hadn’t pulled away.
Damien’s eyes dropped to her mouth. The air between them thinned, charged.
One inch.
Two.
Aria could feel his breath on her lips. Could feel three years of anger, hurt, and something else she refused to name colliding all at once.
“Damien”
The penthouse door opened.
“Mr. Voss! Mrs. Voss!”
Their driver stood there, holding the door, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.
Damien dropped his hand like he’d been burned. He stepped back, adjusting his cufflinks, face going cold and controlled again in an instant.
“Goodnight, Aria,” he said evenly, as if he hadn’t almost kissed her thirty seconds ago.
Aria nodded, unable to speak. She walked past him, legs shaky, heart pounding like she’d been running.
The doors closed behind her.
And Damien stood in the driveway, staring at the window of her suite on the 42nd floor, wondering why walking away felt impossible this time.
- Writer
