Chapter 11: Public Eyes
1418 Words
The penthouse was quiet when they got back. Too quiet.
Aria’s hand was still in Damien’s from the car, and he hadn’t let go. He led her inside, locked the door, and engaged every security protocol on the panel by the entry. Red lights blinked to green one by one.
“Sit,” he said, voice low. Not a command. A request.
Aria sank onto the couch, the adrenaline from the hospital finally wearing off. Her hands were shaking again. “Who else would know about Richard? Who would have reason to threaten both of us?”
Damien crouched in front of her, elbows on his knees. “That’s what we’re going to find out. My team is already tracing the number. It’s burned, but burners leave trails.”
She looked at him, really looked. His suit was wrinkled, his tie loosened, and there was a cut on his knuckles she hadn’t noticed before. “You got hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” He glanced down at his hand like he’d forgotten it was there. “Richard fought when we picked him up.”
“Damien,” she said, and his name came out softer than she meant it to. “Thank you. For my mom.”
His eyes flicked up to hers, dark and unreadable. “Don’t thank me. It’s what I should’ve done three years ago.”
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He stood, stepping away to answer it. Aria caught fragments “location,” “encrypted,” “keep digging.” When he hung up, his jaw was tight.
“No trace yet,” he said. “But I’m not taking chances. We’re going public tomorrow.”
Aria frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Our contract requires public appearances. Two events a month to sell the marriage to the board and the media. Tomorrow’s a charity gala. Black tie. We’ll attend together.”
Her stomach dropped. “As a couple?”
“As a married couple,” he corrected. “It’ll flush whoever sent that message out. If they’re watching, they’ll make a move. If they’re not, we keep up appearances and buy time.”
“And if someone tries to kill us at a gala?”
Damien’s mouth was quivering, humorless. “Then they’ll have to get through me first.”
The next evening, Aria stood in Damien’s walk-in closet, staring at the gown laid out on the bed. Deep emerald, backless, slit up the thigh. It wasn’t her style. It was Damien’s.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” she asked, pulling at the neckline in the mirror.
Damien was buttoning his cufflinks across the room, watching her through the reflection. “You look perfect.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters.” He stepped behind her, his fingers brushing hers as he adjusted the zipper. His touch was careful, like he was afraid she’d pull away. “We’re playing a part tonight, Aria. But the part needs to look real.”
Her breath hitched. “And if it starts feeling real?”
Damien paused. His hands rested on her waist for a second longer than necessary. “Then we deal with it.”
The gala was held at the Blackwood Grand, Damien’s own hotel. Red carpet, flashing cameras, reporters calling out his name. Aria had never felt so exposed. Her arm was linked with his, and every step felt like walking a tightrope.
“Smile,” Damien murmured, leaning close. His breath was warm against her ear. “They’re watching.”
Aria forced a smile as the cameras flashed. “You could’ve warned me about the photos.”
“You look better angry,” he said quietly.
Inside, the ballroom was a sea of wealth and power. Board members, investors, rivals. All of them watching.
“Damien Black,” a woman’s voice cut through the noise. “I didn’t expect to see you here with… company.”
Aria turned to see a tall woman in her fifties, sharp eyes and a smile that didn’t reach them. Elegant, cold, familiar in the way Damien’s jaw was.
“Mother,” Damien said. His voice was flat.
Eleanor Black. His mother.
Aria felt Damien’s grip on her arm tighten slightly.
“So this is her,” Eleanor said, looking Aria up and down like she was inspecting a product. “The girl from three years ago.”
“Mrs. Black,” Aria said, keeping her voice steady. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Eleanor’s smile sharpened. “We’ll see about that. Damien, a word.”
She walked away, expecting him to follow. Damien hesitated, glancing at Aria.
“Go,” Aria said quietly. “I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he followed his mother to a quieter corner. Aria stayed by the champagne table, sipping slowly and trying not to look lost.
She didn’t last long.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Aria turned to see Vivian, Damien’s assistant, looking out of place in a deep red gown. Her expression was unreadable.
“Vivian,” Aria said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were invited.”
“I’m not,” Vivian said softly. “I came to check on you.”
Aria frowned. “Why?”
“Because that message wasn’t from Richard,” Vivian said. “And if Damien thinks it was, he’s making a mistake.”
Aria’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
Before Vivian could answer, Damien was back, his expression stormy.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
Vivian looked between them, then nodded once. “Be careful, Mrs. Carter.”
Damien didn’t wait for a response. He took Aria’s hand and pulled her toward the exit, ignoring the calls from reporters and board members.
In the car, the silence was suffocating.
“What did she say to you?” Aria asked.
Damien’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “She thinks you’re a liability. She always has.”
“And Vivian?”
“She’s loyal to me,” Damien said. But there was doubt in his voice.
“Then why did she come to warn me?” Aria whispered.
Damien didn’t answer. Because he didn’t know.
Back at the penthouse, the tension snapped.
“You’re keeping things from me,” Aria said, dropping her clutch on the table. “Again.”
Damien took off his jacket, hanging it carefully. “I’m keeping you safe.”
“By lying to me?” She stepped closer, anger mixing with something else. “You said you never stopped loving me, Damien. But you’re still treating me like I can’t handle the truth.”
Damien turned to face her, and for the first time, he looked tired. Not angry. Tired.
“I watched you leave once,” he said quietly. “I’m not doing it again.”
“So you control everything?” Aria’s voice rose. “You decide who I talk to, what I know, where I go? That’s not love, Damien. That’s possession.”
His jaw clenched. “You think I want this? You think I like seeing you scared, hurting, in danger because of me?”
“Then let me help!” she shot back. “Let me in!”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their breathing.
Damien stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Fine,” he said, voice rough. “No more secrets. But if this gets you hurt”
“It’s my choice,” Aria finished.
Damien stared at her, then exhaled sharply. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Three years ago. For tonight. For all of it.”
Aria’s anger faded, replaced by something heavier. “Me too,” she whispered. “For not trusting you sooner.”
He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t touch her beyond that. But when he pulled her into a hug, it felt real. Not part of the contract. Not part of the act.
Just him and her.
And for the first time in three years, it didn’t feel like a mistake.
Upstairs, Eleanor Black watched the security feed. Her expression didn’t change.
“Keep watching them,” she said to the man beside her. “If she’s a threat, we handle it.”
“Yes, Mrs. Black.”
She turned away, already planning.
The game wasn’t over. It had just started.
- Writer
