Aria opened the bathroom door slowly, stepping out with hesitant feet. Her arms clutched the edges of her robe tightly, the silky fabric loosely tied around her waist. Though the robe concealed her form, underneath it, she wore the black lace lingerie Damian had gifted her, the one that had sent her heart into a spiral of fear, confusion… and something else she couldn’t name.
Damian sat casually on the leather armchair near the window, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. The room was dim, lit only by the bedside lamp casting soft, golden shadows against the walls. The moment Aria stepped into the light, Damian's eyes flicked up, slowly trailing from her bare feet to her tense shoulders.
A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“What are you wearing, Aria?” he asked
