Cracks In The Ice
1991 Words
Aria had been living with Damian for twelve days.
Twelve days was apparently long enough to learn that Damian Cross was impossible.
He was also becoming a problem.
Not the kind of problem that could be solved by quitting a job or moving apartments.
She was beginning to like him.
She hated that realization.
It had started with little things.
The coffee.
The heater.
The food appearing whenever she forgot to eat.
The way he remembered details she mentioned casually and somehow brought them back weeks later.
Damian never announced his kindness.
He simply did things.
And somehow, that made them harder to dismiss.
Aria stood in the kitchen
She stared at Damian’s cup.
Then at her own.
She shouldn’t know his preference.
She shouldn’t know that he liked his coffee black, that he hated crowded elevators, that he rarely slept more than five hours, or that he became noticeably quieter whenever someone mentioned his father.
She definitely shouldn’t have noticed how handsome he looked in the morning.
Yet there he was.
Standing in the doorway.
Black trousers.
White shirt.
Sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His dark hair slightly messy.
No expensive suit.
No intimidating boardroom expression.
Just Damian.
And somehow, that version of him was more dangerous.
His eyes found her immediately.
“Good morning.”
Aria looked away.
“Morning.”
His gaze shifted to the coffee.
“Is that mine?”
“No.”
He walked into the kitchen.
“Then why did you make it exactly how I take it?”
She shrugged.
“Lucky guess.”
“You’ve been paying attention.”
“Occupational hazard.”
His mouth curved slightly.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“And you’re too observant.”
“I have to be.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re interesting.”
Aria almost dropped her spoon.
She recovered quickly.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
She turned toward him.
“Do you always interrogate your employees before breakfast?”
“Only the ones who keep avoiding me.”
“I don’t avoid you.”
“You left the room when I entered yesterday.”
“You were intimidating.”
“I wasn’t speaking.”
“Exactly.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Aria stared.
She had never heard him laugh like that.
Not the polite laugh he’d given at the gala.
This was real.
Low.
Warm.
Almost boyish.
And it transformed his entire face.
Her chest tightened.
Damian noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“So are you.”
“I have a reason.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What reason?”
His eyes slowly traveled over her face before settling on her lips.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks.
She turned toward the counter.
“You should drink your coffee.”
Damian picked up the cup.
He didn’t look away from her.
“I will.”
“Good.”
He took a sip.
“Perfect.”
Aria smiled despite herself.
“Obviously.”
He placed the cup down.
Then stepped closer.
Aria’s smile disappeared.
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.
Damian stopped a few feet away.
Neither spoke.
She could hear the faint ticking of the clock.
The refrigerator humming.
Her own heartbeat.
“Aria.”
His voice was quieter now.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been trying to figure something out.”
“What?”
“Why I can’t seem to stay away from you.”
Her breath caught.
She forced a laugh.
“Maybe you’re bored.”
“I’m not.”
“Then maybe you’re lonely.”
His expression changed.
That had landed somewhere deeper than she intended.
“Maybe.”
The honesty surprised her.
Damian was never honest about things that mattered.
Not with anyone.
Apparently not even himself.
Aria’s voice softened.
“You don’t have to be lonely.”
His eyes met hers.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll start believing you.”
The words stole the air from her lungs.
Damian took another step.
She could smell his cologne now.
Something warm and subtle.
His gaze moved over her face.
“Tell me to leave.”
Aria swallowed.
“Why would I?”
“Because I’m standing too close.”
She glanced between them.
“You are.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
His jaw tightened.
“Aria.”
“Yes?”
“If I kiss you…”
He paused.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to pretend this is nothing afterward.”
Her heart was pounding.
“Maybe I don’t want it to be nothing.”
His eyes darkened.
For a moment, he simply stared at her.
Then he lifted his hand.
His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from her cheek.
The touch was impossibly gentle.
Aria closed her eyes for half a second.
When she opened them, Damian was even closer.
“Still want me to stop?”
Her lips parted.
“No.”
His hand settled against her cheek.
He leaned in slowly.
Slow enough for her to change her mind.
She didn’t.
Their lips met.
Softly.
Carefully.
Almost hesitantly.
Aria’s fingers curled into the front of his shirt.
That tiny movement changed everything.
His other hand settled at her waist.
The kiss deepened.
The world seemed to disappear around them.
Aria had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing.
She had forgotten about the coffee.
The breakfast.
The jobs waiting for her.
The bills.
Everything.
There was only the warmth of his hand at her waist and the quiet intensity of the man kissing her.
When they finally separated, neither moved away.
Their foreheads remained together.
Aria’s breathing was uneven.
“So,” she whispered.
“So.”
“We definitely broke several rules.”
Damian’s lips curved.
“We never officially established them.”
“We did.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Ah.”
She laughed softly.
His expression changed as he watched her.
“What?”
“You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
Her smile faded.
Nobody had said that to her in a very long time.
Damian noticed.
His thumb brushed her cheek.
“Don’t look away.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not used to people saying things like that to me.”
His gaze softened.
“Then get used to it.”
“Damian…”
“I mean it.”
He touched her cheek again.
“I don’t know what this is yet.”
“Neither do I.”
“But I know I want to find out.”
Aria looked into his eyes.
No billionaire confidence.
Just a man standing in front of her, uncertain for perhaps the first time in years.
She nodded.
His shoulders relaxed.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
He smiled.
A real smile.
And Aria knew she was in trouble.
The trouble got worse that afternoon.
Aria was carrying a stack of freshly folded towels through the hallway when Damian emerged from his study.
His gaze immediately dropped to her hands.
“You’re carrying too much.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Give them to me.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Aria.”
“I can carry towels.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you arguing?”
“Because you shouldn’t have to.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“You’re working too hard.”
“I work for a living.”
“You work three jobs.”
“Two.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Three.”
She sighed.
“Fine. Three.”
“You shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I have bills.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to decide how I live.”
“I know.”
“Then stop trying.”
Damian stepped closer.
“I don’t want to control you.
”
“Sometimes it feels like you do.”
His expression softened.
“I’ll try.”
She hadn’t expected that.
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
He nodded.
Aria stared at him.
“That’s… surprisingly mature.”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
She laughed.
He reached for the towels.
“Now give me those.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I can carry them.”
His mouth twitched.
“You’re stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“I know.”
He took half the towels anyway.
Aria rolled her eyes.
“Damian.”
“Compromise.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you kissed me.”
She froze.
He walked away with the towels.
A smile tugged at his mouth.
Aria watched him disappear around the corner.
Then she whispered to herself:
“Oh, I’m definitely in trouble.”
That evening, she found him on the terrace.
The sun was setting over the water.
The sky was painted in shades of gold and pink.
Damian stood alone, one hand resting on the railing.
Aria approached quietly.
“You’re avoiding dinner.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten since lunch.”
He turned.
“How do you know?”
“I pay attention too.”
Something softened in his eyes.
She held out a plate.
“Eat.”
He looked at it.
Then at her.
“Are you always this bossy?”
“When necessary.”
He accepted the plate.
“Thank you.”
She sat beside him.
For several minutes, they ate in silence.
Then Damian spoke.
“Tell me about your parents.”
Aria’s smile faded.
She looked toward the ocean.
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything.”
She took a slow breath.
“My mother loved flowers.”
He listened.
“She used to put them everywhere. Even in places they didn’t belong.”
“Like?”
“The bathroom.”
He smiled.
“Your father?”
“He couldn’t keep a plant alive.”
Aria laughed.
“He once bought her roses and accidentally bought plastic ones.”
Damian laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She smiled at the memory.
“He thought they were real.”
They laughed together.
Then her smile slowly disappeared.
“They were good people.”
“I can tell.”
“I miss them.”
The words came out barely above a whisper.
Damian placed his plate aside.
Aria wiped at her eyes.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t.”
“I hate crying.”
“Why?”
“It makes me feel weak.”
Damian turned toward her.
“Crying doesn’t make you weak.”
“You sound like someone who had to learn that the hard way.”
His expression went still.
“You’re perceptive.”
“I pay attention.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he reached for her hand.
His fingers intertwined with hers.
“I think I’ve spent my entire life trying not to need anyone.”
Aria looked at him.
“So have I.”
Their eyes met.
Two people who had built walls for completely different reasons.
Two people who had somehow found each other anyway.
Damian squeezed her hand.
“I don’t know where this is going.”
“Neither do I.”
“But I don’t want it to stop.”
Aria’s heart ached.
“Neither do I.”
He lifted her hand to his lips.
A gentle kiss against her knuckles.
Then another.
Aria’s breath caught.
“Damian…”
“I know.”
“What?”
He looked into her eyes.
“This is becoming something.”
She smiled softly.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
He leaned toward her.
“Maybe it isn’t.”
And beneath the fading light, Damian kissed her again.
This time there was no hesitation.
No pretending.
No rules.
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