UNDER THE BILLIONAIRE’S SHADOW

CHAPTER FOUR

ARIA

It had been six weeks since the Lily incident.

Six weeks since I’d started working as Damian’s personal assistant.

Life… felt lighter.

James hadn’t shown up. I no longer woke up drenched in sweat from nightmares of his fists. For the first time in years, I could breathe without flinching.

Work was hard, demanding, stressful, but the pay was good. And for once, I did not care what people whispered about me. Rumors said I seduced Damian to get the job and called me a w***e. I shrugged it off. I had no family who would worry about gossip. No one waiting at home.

But I had friends now. Small, loyal ones in the office. And that was enough.

But Damian…

That part had not changed. His sharp words. His unpredictable moods. The endless apology texts and bouquets I had to send to his girlfriends because he missed their dates. Sometimes, under my breath, I muttered, He must be such a playboy. A very expensive, emotionally unavailable playboy.

Tonight was different.

I stayed late, finishing reports and schedules. The office was silent. The city outside glowed faintly against rain-slick streets. Damian had not said a word since I handed him the last folder, but for some reason, his presence felt heavier than usual.

"Aria."

His voice cut through the quiet. Low. Controlled. Commanding. The kind of voice that made your soul sit up and fix its posture.

I looked up. He was leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled. A bottle of scotch and two glasses sat on the desk.

"Sit," he said.

I obeyed. My nerves buzzed like a cheap phone on vibrator mode.

He poured the drinks slowly. The amber liquid caught the glow of the desk lamp as if it had something to confess.

"Do you drink?"

"Sometimes," I said softly.

He handed me the glass. "Tonight, we will drink. You need to loosen up."

I hesitated. Then took a sip. The burn rolled down my throat. He watched me the entire time, dark eyes unblinking, studying me like I was a complicated riddle only he was allowed to solve.

"What do you think of women?" he asked suddenly.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

A faint smirk touched his lips. "Just answer."

"I think women are strong. Resilient. They..." I trailed off, unsure what direction this man was taking me.

"Good," he murmured. Almost to himself. His eyes drifted toward the window. "I have never felt love. My parents only ended up together for reputation. No warmth. No passion. I do not know what love feels like. Maybe that is why I hurt women. Maybe I am cursed."

Something twisted in my chest. There was a rawness in his voice I had never heard before. The room suddenly felt smaller. Warmer. Uncomfortably intimate.

Then he stood.

Not abruptly. Not casually. He rose slowly, like a storm deciding to move.

Each step toward me made my pulse pound.

My brain turned into a frantic narrator screaming, Girl, run. Or stay. Actually I do not know. Just breathe.

"You are beautiful, Aria," he said quietly.

The words hit me like heat. Real heat. Oven-level heat.

He stopped in front of me. Too close. His presence swallowed what little space remained. My heart raced like it had somewhere to be.

His hands found mine and he lifted me to my feet. Our eyes locked. Five long seconds. Each one drawing him closer. Each one telling me I was in trouble of the very dangerous, very handsome variety.

Was he drunk? Or had he always wanted me?

I wanted to push him away.

But I leaned in too.

Our lips met. Soft at first. Then deep and hungry and absolutely irresponsible. His mouth trailed down to my shoulder. His hand slid to my waist.

Before I could think, he lifted me effortlessly and set me on the table. I gripped his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

He pulled back just enough to unbutton my top.

I was wearing a simple lace bra. Nothing fancy. But when the cold air hit my skin, my n*****s tightened instantly. He stared like he was seeing something rare and delicate and exclusively his.

I knew my breasts were full. People always commented. But I was insecure about them. Yet the look on his face made something inside me bloom. A strange urge to show him more. To let him see me properly.

His lips wrapped around my n****e. Warm. Soft. His hand cupped the other breast, fingers teasing. A spark shot through me. His hand traced down between my thighs.

I was wet. Shamefully wet. And when he felt it, he breathed, "You are so wet, Aria."

I could not speak. Only a soft sigh escaped me.

He let go of my breast and slid my pants down. He eased me back, lifting my legs so he had a full view.

Thank God I shaved, I thought weakly, because priorities.

"You are clean," he murmured. "And you smell beautiful."

Then he lowered his head.

His tongue gave my p***y a soft kiss. I moaned. Quiet. Helpless. Possibly possessed.

He teased again. Slow. Gentle. Deliberate. My back arched. His hands stayed on my breasts, squeezing and playing.

This is wrong. He is your boss. Stop. Abort mission.

But it felt too good.

His tongue went deeper, and I let out a louder sound.

"Ahh... mmm..."

"What kind of foreplay was this?" my brain whispered in the background, taking notes.

"Sir," I breathed.

Something snapped in him.

He stilled. Completely. Then slowly pulled back.

I blinked, suddenly aware. Suddenly sober in my mind. Unfortunately.

"Aria." His voice was tight. "I am sorry. I am not usually like this."

I did not know what to say. Heat. Embarrassment. Panic. All colliding like badly parked cars. I pretended to be drunk to save myself from drowning in humiliation.

"Oh... I miss my mum..." I mumbled, sounding like a malfunctioning robot.

"Aria, are you okay?" he asked softly.

I smiled lazily. "You are so pretty, sir."

He stared, confused and suspicious. Then he helped me back into my pants and buttoned my top with gentle hands. Too gentle. The kind that ruined women emotionally.

The whole time, I kept up my drunken act. Slurring. Giggling. Saying nonsense that made even me want to evaporate.

"Where do you live, Aria?"

"I live in the house you gave me, pretty man."

He sighed, lifted me like nothing and carried me out. He told his driver to take me home and make sure I was safe.

I fell onto the seat dramatically the moment I got in. The door closed. The engine started.

The embarrassment slammed into me like a truck.

"Oh my God," I whispered into my hands. "What was that? What actually was that?"

How would I face him tomorrow?

Maybe I would pretend I did not remember.

I covered my face and curled my toes in pure humiliation.