Secrets in His Eyes
1562 Words
Chapter 9 – Secrets in His Eyes
The dim light from Damon’s phone illuminated his sharp features, his jaw tightening as he read the words on the screen. “She’ll know soon.”
The message burned into his mind like fire on paper — cruel, mocking, and far too real.
His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, then he locked the phone, slipped it back into his pocket, and exhaled slowly. The night outside his penthouse window was restless, the city lights shimmering against the black sky, but inside him, a storm had already begun to roar.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, pacing once, twice. Every instinct in him screamed to protect her — Aria. She was the one part of his life he’d wanted to keep untouched by the shadows that followed him.
But shadows had a way of finding their way through cracks — even in the strongest walls.
---
Meanwhile, Aria lay awake in her apartment, her mind still swirling from Damon’s sudden departure. One moment he’d been holding her, his touch fierce and tender all at once, and the next — he was gone. No explanation. No goodbye.
She turned over in bed, staring at the faint trace of his cologne still lingering on her pillow.
What are you hiding from me, Damon Blackwood?
She thought back to the way his eyes had changed — from passion to distance — like a door suddenly slammed shut.
The next morning, she arrived at the Blackwood Hotel Group headquarters, clutching her sketchbook close to her chest. She had a meeting scheduled for a new design proposal, but deep down, her mind wasn’t on the job — it was on him.
The moment she stepped inside the marble lobby, her heart skipped a beat. Damon was there — standing with his assistant near the glass elevator. His tailored suit fit him like sin, every line of his body exuding power and control.
Their eyes met for the briefest moment. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze lingered — too long to be casual, too cold to be comforting.
“Miss Bloom,” his assistant greeted warmly. “Mr. Blackwood will see you now.”
Aria followed, trying to steady her breathing. When she entered his office, the familiar scent of cedar and whiskey hit her — the scent of him.
He didn’t look up immediately, his attention fixed on the city skyline. “You’re early.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied softly, setting her sketchbook on his desk.
He finally turned. “Neither could I.”
There was something in his tone — something dark, restrained. She watched him carefully. “You left so suddenly last night. Is everything okay?”
He hesitated. “Just business.”
She frowned. “You always say that, Damon. But I can tell when something’s wrong.”
He walked closer, each step deliberate, his gaze locked on hers. “And if something was wrong, Aria… what would you do?”
“I’d want to help.”
He stopped in front of her, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. “You can’t help me with this.”
Her voice trembled. “Why? Because you don’t trust me?”
His jaw tightened. “Because if you knew everything about me… you’d never look at me the same way again.”
Silence stretched between them — charged, painful, magnetic.
She lifted her chin slightly. “Try me.”
For a second, he almost did. He almost reached for her, almost confessed everything — the secret deals, the hidden threats, the enemies watching from the shadows. But then his phone buzzed again.
He glanced at it. Another message.
“Tick-tock, Blackwood. She’s getting closer.”
Damon’s blood ran cold. Whoever was behind this knew too much.
He turned away sharply, his voice low. “I have to go.”
Aria’s heart twisted. “You’re doing it again — running.”
He paused at the door. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand!” she said, stepping closer. “I’m not afraid of whatever this is, Damon. I’m afraid of losing you.”
That broke something in him. In two strides, he was in front of her again, his hand gripping the back of her neck, pulling her in until their lips were a breath apart.
“Don’t say things like that,” he whispered hoarsely. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do,” she breathed. “I’m not walking away.”
Their lips met — fierce, desperate, full of unspoken fear and longing. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a collision, a surrender. Her hands fisted in his shirt, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer, as if she were the only thing keeping him anchored.
When they finally broke apart, she whispered against his lips, “Tell me the truth, Damon. Please.”
He looked at her, torn between desire and guilt. “Some truths destroy everything they touch.”
Then he left — without another word.
---
That evening, Aria sat in her studio, sketching furiously. But every line, every color she put down was filled with his face. The way he looked at her. The way he pushed her away.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
Curious, she opened the message.
“You think you know him? Ask about the fire.”
Her blood froze.
The fire?
Before she could type back, the number disappeared — no trace, no history.
Aria’s hands trembled as she called Damon. Straight to voicemail. Again. And again.
By the fourth time, she was pacing her apartment. “Damon, it’s me. Please, call me back. I need to know what this means.”
She didn’t notice the black car parked outside her building, or the shadow of a man watching from the street.
---
Damon, meanwhile, was standing in an abandoned warehouse near the docks — a place he hadn’t been in years.
“Show yourself,” he said, his voice echoing through the dark.
A man stepped out of the shadows, slow claps breaking the silence. “Still the same old Blackwood. Always trying to fix things you can’t control.”
Damon’s fists clenched. “What do you want?”
The man smirked. “Just watching you squirm is entertaining enough. But I’ll make it simple — tell her the truth, or I will.”
“Stay away from her.”
“Or what?”
Damon’s tone dropped, dangerous. “You’ll regret it.”
The man chuckled, stepping closer. “You’ve already lost everything once because of a fire. Do you really want history to repeat itself?”
Before Damon could react, the man was gone — like smoke in the night.
Damon’s hands shook. That one word — fire — was enough to drag every buried memory back to life. The screaming, the flames, the guilt. The secret he’d sworn to bury forever.
He slammed his fist against the wall, whispering to himself, “Not again. I won’t lose her too.”
---
Hours later, Aria stood outside his penthouse. She’d tried calling, texting, even asking his assistant — nothing.
Finally, she punched in the security code he’d once let slip. The elevator took her to the top floor, and when the doors opened, she stepped into the silence of his world.
The lights were dim, the city glowing outside the massive glass walls. His jacket lay over the couch, his phone on the counter — still buzzing with new messages.
She picked it up.
The latest one read:
“You deserve to know, Aria. Ask him what really happened the night of the Blackwood fire.”
Her knees weakened.
The Blackwood fire — the tragedy that killed Damon’s parents. The one everyone said was an accident.
She barely had time to process before the door opened. Damon stood there — eyes wild, jaw tight, like a man cornered by his own ghosts.
“Aria—”
She turned to face him, tears in her eyes. “Tell me the truth.”
He froze. “Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “What happened that night?”
His silence was deafening.
“Did you start it?” she asked, her voice breaking.
Damon took a step forward, eyes filled with torment. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that…”
“Then what was supposed to happen?” she demanded.
He looked away, pain etched into every line of his face. “I was trying to save them — but I failed. And I’ve been paying for it ever since.”
Tears blurred her vision. “You’ve been punishing yourself for something you couldn’t control.”
He looked back at her then, eyes raw, desperate. “You don’t understand, Aria. Someone set that fire — and they’re still out there.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Then who—”
Before she could finish, a loud crash shattered the silence — the sound of glass breaking somewhere behind Damon.
He turned instantly, pulling her close, shielding her.
A voice echoed from the darkness. “You should’ve told her sooner, Blackwood.”
Aria’s breath caught as a shadow moved across the balcony.
And then — the lights went out.
---
To be continued…
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- Writer
