Aria’s breath hitched at the question Damian asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were with my son?”
The words echoed in the silence of the study like a detonated bomb. Her throat went dry. Damian’s voice had been calm, too calm, but his eyes burned with quiet, calculated fury.
She stood frozen near the door, her heart thundering in her chest. Damian stood across the room, a glass of scotch in his hand, but his posture was tense, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful.
“I—I didn’t think it mattered,” Aria finally managed, barely above a whisper.
“Didn’t matter?” he echoed, stepping toward her, each word laced with venom. “You came to me with a marriage proposal, Aria. And all that time, you conveniently forgot to mention you were once engaged to Marco?”
“You thought it didn’t ma
