ACCEPTED MAFIA CEO

THR MORNING After

I woke up to the sound of coffee.

And to the fact that Damian Blackwood was sleeping 2 feet away from me.

He was on top of the covers. In jeans. No shirt.

One arm thrown over his eyes. Chest rising and falling.

There was a new cut on his knuckle. Dried blood.

I sat up slowly. My heart was doing stupid things.

Last night. The attack. The kiss.

The kiss.

Desperate. Hard. Over in 3 seconds.

And then he left like nothing happened.

I touched my lips. Stupid.

The door opened.

Damian.

Shirt on now. Hair wet. Two mugs of coffee.

He froze when he saw me awake.

"Morning," he said. His voice was rough.

"Morning."

Silence.

Awkward. Thick.

He set a mug on the nightstand for me and took the other to the couch.

Didn’t sit next to me. Sat on the other side of the room.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, staring at the wall.

"Yeah. You?"

"Fine."

Liar. He had dark circles.

We drank coffee in silence. The only sound was rain against the warehouse walls.

Finally, I couldn’t take it. "About last night—"

"Don’t," he cut me off. "It was a mistake."

The word hit me like a slap.

"Right," I said. My voice was flat. "A mistake."

He looked at me then. Really looked.

"Aria, I’m not... I don’t do that. Relationships. Feelings. That’s not what this is."

"This?" I gestured between us. "What is this then?"

"A contract," he said. "Protection. That’s all."

The coffee suddenly tasted bitter.

"Got it," I said. I stood up. "Contract."

I walked to the bathroom and locked the door.

Stared at myself in the mirror.

Eyes red. Not from crying. From anger.

_Contract. Right. That’s all._

#### *8:30 AM. Breakfast.*

He made eggs. Again.

Pushed a plate to me without looking up.

"Eat."

"I’m not hungry."

"You need to eat."

I ate. Because he was right.

Because fighting him was exhausting.

His phone buzzed. He looked at it and cursed.

"What?"

"Marco’s shipment. Tonight. 11 PM. Warehouse 17."

"And?"

"And I’m going," he said. "Alone."

"No." The word came out before I could think.

"Aria—"

"No," I said again, stronger. "You said Clause 10. Protection. No questions asked. So I’m coming."

He put his fork down. "It’s dangerous."

"Everything with you is dangerous," I snapped. "At least let me be dangerous with you."

We stared at each other.

Something flickered in his eyes. Frustration. Something else.

"Fine," he said finally. "But you follow orders. No arguing."

"Deal."

#### *6:00 PM. Getting Ready.*

We didn’t talk much while getting ready.

Black clothes again. Vest. Gun.

He showed me how to hold it properly this time.

His hands on mine. Adjusting my grip.

"Like this," he said quietly. "Aim. Breathe. Shoot."

"I hope I don’t have to."

"Me too."

When he stepped back, his eyes lingered on my face for half a second too long.

Then he turned away.

#### *10:45 PM. Warehouse 17.*

It was dark. Raining.

Shipping containers everywhere. Just like the docks.

Damian parked 2 blocks away. "We walk from here."

"Why?"

"Because he’s watching. And I want him to think we’re not coming."

We moved through the shadows. 4 guards with us.

My heart was in my throat.

"Stay behind me," Damian whispered. "No matter what."

"Okay."

We reached the edge of the warehouse. Peered around the corner.

Marco was there. With 6 men. And crates. Lots of crates.

Arms. Drugs. Whatever he was selling.

Damian pulled out his phone. Typed something.

30 seconds later, police sirens in the distance.

"What did you do?" I whispered.

"Called in a tip. Anonymous." A small smile. "Let them deal with him."

Marco heard the sirens. He looked up. Panicked.

"PACK IT UP! MOVE!"

That’s when it went wrong.

One of Marco’s men saw us.

"THEM! IT’S THEM!"

Gunfire.

"DOWN!" Damian shoved me to the ground.

Chaos.

Our guards firing. Marco’s men firing. Sirens getting closer.

Damian was shooting and pulling me at the same time.

"To the car! GO!"

We ran.

A bullet hit the container next to my head. I screamed.

Damian stopped. Turned. Fired twice. The man dropped.

"Keep running!"

We made it to the SUV. Got in.

The driver floored it as bullets hit the car.

In the rearview, I saw police cars pulling into the warehouse.

And Marco. Running. Looking right at us.

He mouthed something.

_This isn’t over._

#### *12:10 AM. Back at Safehouse.*

We were both shaking. Adrenaline crash.

Damian locked all the doors. Checked all the windows. Again.

Then he turned to me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." My voice shook. "You?"

"Fine."

More silence.

Heavier than before.

I couldn’t do it. "Why did you say it was a mistake?"

He didn’t answer.

"Damian. Answer me."

"Because it was," he said. "Because I can’t afford mistakes. Not with you."

"Why not?"

"Because you’re important," he snapped. Then sighed. "Because if something happens to you, I don’t know what I’d do."

The honesty hit me harder than the gunfire.

I walked to him. Stood in front of him.

"Then don’t let anything happen to me."

"I’m trying," he said. "God, I’m trying."

He looked up at me. Tired. Broken. Real.

"Aria, I’m not a good man. I kill people. I run a business that ruins lives. I don’t deserve—"

"Don’t," I interrupted. "Don’t tell me who you are. I know who you are."

I knelt in front of him. Like he did last night.

"You’re the man who sat in a hospital for 6 hours.

You’re the man who took me out of that warehouse tonight.

You’re the man who kissed me because he thought I might die."

His jaw ticked. "That doesn’t make me good."

"No," I agreed. "It makes you human."

Something broke in his face.

He reached out. Slowly. Cupped my face.

His thumb brushed my cheek.

"I don’t know how to do this," he whispered.

"Then learn," I said. "With me."

He stared at me for a long time.

Then he leaned in.

And kissed me.

This time it wasn’t desperate.

This time it was slow. Careful.

Like he was afraid I’d break.

His hand went to the back of my neck. Mine went to his chest.

I could feel his heart. Racing.

When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.

"That was also a mistake," he said, but there was no conviction in it.

"Good," I said. "Let’s make more mistakes."

The ghost of a smile. "You’re trouble, Aria Hale."

"Aria Blackwood," I corrected. "On paper."

He laughed. A real laugh. Short, but real.

"Yeah. On paper."

He pulled me up and into his lap on the couch.

Not s****l. Just... close.

His arms around me. My head on his shoulder.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

Inside, for the first time, it was quiet.

No guns. No Marco. No contract.

Just us.

"I have to tell Noah about you," he said quietly.

"When?"

"Soon. He needs to meet you. Before Marco tries to use him."

"Will he hate me?"

"He might," Damian admitted. "But I’ll handle it."

We sat like that for an hour.

Not talking. Just being.

At 2 AM, he carried me to bed.

Not for anything else. Just to sleep.

He lay behind me. One arm around my waist.

"Sleep," he murmured into my hair. "I’ve got you."

And this time, I believed him.

Completely.