SECRETS AND SHADOWS
979 Words
The limousine was silent on the ride home, the city lights flashing like judgmental eyes through the tinted windows.
Aria sat with her hands clenched in her lap, the red silk of her dress pooling like blood around her thighs. Damien hadn’t spoken since they left the gala, and she didn’t want to be the one to break the silence. Not when her pulse still echoed with that stranger’s warning.
Not all enemies wear masks.
She stole a glance at Damien. His jaw was tight, hands resting on his knees like he was holding himself back from unleashing something.
“What happened back there?” he asked finally, voice low.
She blinked. “Back where?”
“At the gala. When you disappeared.”
“I told you—I went to the bathroom.”
His eyes turned to her, slow and sharp. “And?”
Her throat tightened. She should tell him. But something about that man’s tone, his parting words, made her hesitate.
“And I needed a moment,” she said. “That’s all.”
He didn’t believe her. She could feel it in the way his fingers tapped once against his knee.
“When you lie,” he murmured, “you blink too much.”
She turned away, heat creeping up her neck. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
“Maybe,” he echoed. But his voice said doubt.
The limo pulled up to the penthouse, and the moment the doors shut behind them, Damien shed the mask he wore for the world. His tie was yanked off, jacket discarded, and he ran a hand through his hair like a man on the edge.
Aria stepped out of her heels, wincing as the pain from the night finally caught up.
“Next time,” she muttered, “you wear the stilettos.”
He didn’t smile. He was pacing now.
“That man,” he said suddenly. “In the bathroom. What did he say to you?”
She froze.
Damien turned to her slowly. “I know someone was there. Arthur mentioned a leak in security.”
She swallowed hard. “He didn’t give a name. Just said he’s been watching the Blackwoods. That I’m… the newest piece on the board.”
Damien’s face went still. Too still.
“What else?”
“He told me to tell you to watch your back. That not all enemies wear masks.”
A muscle ticked in Damien’s jaw. “Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Describe him.”
She tried. Dark suit. Early thirties. Confident. Smooth. The kind of man who walked into danger like it owed him something.
Damien listened, every detail filing away like ammunition.
When she finished, he stepped closer — too close — and cupped her jaw with a touch that was both possessive and protective.
“If anyone ever comes near you again,” he said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet, “you tell me first. No more hiding. No more pretending.”
She stared up at him, heart thudding.
“I’m not used to being someone’s… possession.”
“You’re not my possession,” he said. “You’re my liability.”
She frowned.
“And liabilities,” he added darkly, “get guarded like gold.”
Then, before she could answer, he kissed her.
Hard. Fierce. Like he was trying to erase someone else’s presence from her skin.
And for a moment, she let him.
Because part of her — the part she didn’t want to admit existed — wanted to be wanted.
Even if it was dangerous.
Even if it was all a lie.
He pulled back first, his eyes darker than before.
“I need to make a call.”
“To who?”
He didn’t answer. Just disappeared into his office and shut the door.
Aria stood in the silence, still tasting him. Still wondering what the hell she was getting pulled into.
She changed out of the red dress, slipping into one of the silk robes the housekeeper had left out. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Unknown number.
She stared at it. Then answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a voice — distorted, like it was run through a filter.
“You’re in danger, Mrs. Blackwood.”
She stiffened. “Who is this?”
“They don’t care about you. You’re just leverage. Collateral for a game you don’t understand.”
Her skin prickled. “If you’re trying to scare me—”
“I’m trying to warn you. The man you married has enemies. And you just painted a target on your back.”
The line went dead.
Aria dropped the phone like it burned her.
Minutes later, Damien emerged from his office. His expression unreadable.
“I have to go out,” he said shortly.
“At this hour?”
“There’s a situation at one of the company’s sites. It’s secure, but I don’t like surprises.”
She crossed her arms. “More secrets?”
He looked at her. Really looked. “If I told you everything, you’d never sleep again.”
“Try me.”
He hesitated—just long enough to make her think he might. Then he turned and walked to the elevator.
The doors shut behind him.
She was alone.
Or so she thought.
An hour passed. Midnight crept in. Aria couldn’t sleep, her mind spinning with what-ifs and whispers. She stepped out onto the balcony for air.
Below, the city stretched out like a glittering trap.
Then she saw it.
A red laser dot — small, circular — flicker across her silk robe.
Her heart seized.
She looked up, instinct screaming.
Across the street, on a rooftop, a figure was watching her.
Sniper.
She dropped to the floor just as the glass behind her shattered with a sharp, deadly crack.
End of Chapter Four
- Writer
