Chapter 8 – The Warning
703 Words
Aria woke to sunlight slipping through the curtains. Her head ached from too little sleep, her body still tense from the night before. She hadn’t been able to forget Victor’s words.
This house has ears.
She dressed quickly, choosing a plain dress instead of the gowns her father preferred. She wanted to disappear into the background, not draw eyes. But as soon as she stepped into the hall, she knew someone was waiting.
Victor.
He leaned against the wall, calm as stone, his gaze fixed on her.
“Good morning,” she said softly, forcing her steps to remain steady.
“Your father wants you downstairs.” His tone was clipped. No warmth, no kindness.
She nodded and moved past him. But his hand came out, brushing lightly against her arm. It wasn’t a grab, not forceful, but it made her stop.
“You wander too much,” he said. “It raises questions.”
Her throat tightened. “I wasn’t wandering. I—”
He tilted his head. “Be careful how you answer. You forget I’ve watched you grow up. I know when you’re lying.”
Her heart hammered, but she pulled her arm free and walked on, her chin lifted. Showing fear would only feed him.
The dining room was nearly empty when she entered. Only her father and Damian sat at the long table. Her father’s presence filled the space, his voice heavy with control as he spoke about meetings and alliances. Damian listened, silent, unreadable.
Aria slipped into her seat, trying to keep her eyes on her plate. But she felt Damian’s gaze flick toward her once, sharp, quick. She didn’t dare return it.
When breakfast ended, her father left with two men, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Aria rose, relieved, only to freeze when she felt someone behind her.
“Walk with me.”
Damian’s voice. Low. Direct.
Her pulse raced. She should refuse, but her feet moved anyway. He led her through a side corridor, past a heavy door, and into the garden outside. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of roses.
“Victor is watching you,” Damian said. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen. “He doesn’t trust me either. That makes us both targets.”
She swallowed. “Then why bring me here?”
“Because hiding only makes suspicion worse.” His jaw tightened. “And because I can’t ignore this anymore.”
The last words made her chest ache. She shook her head quickly. “You need to. If my father—”
“If your father knew, he’d have me gone in an instant.” His tone was hard. “But I’m not leaving. Not yet.”
She looked away, her hands trembling against the folds of her dress. “You’re going to ruin us both.”
He stepped closer, so close she felt the heat of him against her skin. His voice lowered, almost rough. “Then tell me to stop.”
The words caught in her throat. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The air between them felt heavy, charged, impossible to escape.
His hand lifted, not touching, but hovering close enough that her body burned with awareness.
She wanted him. She feared him. Both truths tangled until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Footsteps broke the moment.
Victor.
He stood at the far end of the garden path, his sharp gaze fixed on them. He didn’t speak, but his meaning was clear. He had seen enough.
Damian’s hand dropped instantly, his expression hardening into stone.
Aria’s breath came fast. She forced herself to step back, her arms wrapping around her own body as if nothing had passed between them.
Victor’s lips curved slightly. Not a smile, but something worse. A warning.
“Lunch will be served in an hour,” he said flatly. Then he turned and walked away.
The silence he left behind was louder than any threat.
Aria looked at Damian, her stomach tight with fear.
“He knows,” she whispered.
Damian’s eyes stayed on the path Victor had taken. “Then we need to decide how much we’re willing to risk.”
- Writer
