Chapter 8: Under One Roof
938 Words
Damien’s bedroom was nothing like the guest suite.
No sterile minimalism. No cold distance.
It was dark wood, black sheets, and the faint scent of cedar and something uniquely him. A room that had been lived in. A room that had been waiting.
Aria stood in the middle of it, arms crossed, like she could hold herself together by sheer will.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I’m not a child, Damien. I don’t need a babysitter.”
Damien closed the door behind her and locked it.
“You’re not safe alone. Not until my father is dealt with.”
“And sleeping in your bed makes me safe?” she shot back.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the closet and pulled out a hoodie, tossing it to her.
“Put this on. My shirt’s better than whatever you brought.”
Aria caught it, frowning at the oversized black fabric. It smelled like him.
“You expect me to sleep in your hoodie?”
“I expect you to sleep,” Damien said, already loosening his tie. “And I’m not comfortable unless I know you’re right here.”
He said it so casually, like it didn’t wreck her.
Aria turned away, pulling the hoodie over her head. It swallowed her whole. The hem hit mid-thigh.
“Fine. But I’m taking the couch.”
“There is no couch,” Damien said flatly.
Aria looked around. He wasn’t lying. The room had a bed, a desk, and a city view. Nothing else.
Damien sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Aria, I’m not going to touch you if you don’t want me to. But I’m not sleeping in another room while someone’s threatening you.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
The bed was massive. King size. Enough space for two people to never touch.
In theory.
Damien turned the lights off, leaving only the glow of the city outside. He slid into his side of the bed, leaving a wide gap between them.
Silence stretched between them.
Aria stared at the ceiling, heart beating too fast. She could feel him there. Breathing. Close enough that if she reached out, she’d touch him.
“Damien?” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Why me?”
He was quiet for a long time.
“Because you’re the only person who ever made me feel human,” he said finally. “Before you, it was all board meetings and boardrooms. You made me want something else.”
Aria swallowed hard.
“And now?”
“Now I want you back,” he said simply. “Contract or not.”
The honesty in his voice made her chest ache.
She rolled onto her side, facing away from him.
“Go to sleep, Damien.”
“Try to,” he murmured.
Minutes passed.
Aria’s eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep. She could hear him breathing. Could feel the heat radiating from his side of the bed.
Then her phone buzzed.
She ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Damien sat up, flipping the lamp on.
“Let me see it.”
Aria handed it over, her hands shaking.
Another photo. Her mom’s room. Different angles.
“24 hours left, Mrs. Voss.”
Damien’s jaw clenched so hard Aria thought he might crack a tooth.
“He’s escalating.”
Aria sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.
“What if he hurts her, Damien? What if”
“He won’t,” Damien cut her off, voice sharp. “I won’t let him.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her to him before she could stop him.
“Look at me, Aria.”
She did.
His eyes were dark, intense, and scared in a way she’d never seen before.
“I’ve spent three years keeping you safe from a distance. I’m not doing that anymore. You’re mine to protect now. Up close. Where I can see you.”
Aria’s breath hitched.
“Damien”
He cupped her face, thumb brushing over her cheek.
“Tell me to stop. And I will.”
She should’ve told him to stop.
She didn’t.
Damien leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.
When she didn’t, his lips brushed against hers.
Soft. Tentative. Like he was afraid she’d disappear if he pushed too hard.
Aria closed her eyes and kissed him back.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t for the cameras.
It was three years of anger and longing and fear all crashing into one moment.
Damien groaned against her mouth, pulling her closer, his hand tangling in her hair.
For a second, it felt real.
Like they were back in Paris. Like nothing had ever broken them.
Then Aria pulled back, breathless, eyes wide.
“We can’t—”
“We can’t,” Damien agreed, his forehead resting against hers. His breathing was ragged. “But I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I don’t want you.”
Aria’s heart pounded.
“Then don’t pretend.”
Damien froze.
A knock at the door made them both jump apart.
“Mr. Voss,” security said through the door. “We have a problem. Your father’s on the line. He says he’s coming to the penthouse.”
Damien cursed under his breath and stood, running a hand through his hair.
“Stay here. Don’t open this door for anyone but me.”
Aria nodded, heart still racing from the kiss.
Damien opened the door and stepped out, leaving her alone in the dark.
Alone with the memory of his lips on hers.
And the 24-hour deadline hanging over her head.
- Writer
