Chapter 7: Breaking Points
1265 Words
Chapter 7: Breaking Points
(When tempers flare, hearts get burned)
Aria hadn’t meant to wear the dress for Damon.
She’d chosen it because it made her feel something—powerful, maybe. Or maybe she just needed armor tonight. It was black, silk, backless, and clung to her body like sin. The kind of dress that whispered danger and screamed mine to anyone bold enough to try.
She didn’t expect Cade to show up.
But of course, he did.
She spotted him the second she stepped into the hotel ballroom. Dark suit. Storm in his eyes. A drink in hand he clearly hadn’t tasted. His gaze slammed into her like a curse—sharp, possessive, unreadable.
And then came Damon.
One smirk from him and the air around her turned electric.
“You really wore that for me,” he murmured, his hand brushing her lower back as he leaned in. “If Cade’s eyes could kill, I’d be six feet under.”
“I didn’t wear it for anyone,” Aria lied, her voice tight.
Damon chuckled, low and wicked. “Don’t insult my intelligence, sweetheart. We both know who you’re trying to forget.”
The gala was a charity function—public, high-profile, dripping with power players. But under the glittering chandeliers, it felt more like a battlefield. Every glance was loaded. Every step, a test.
And Cade?
He was watching everything.
“Are you trying to make a scene?” Cade cornered her by the terrace doors an hour later, his voice a dark whisper.
“I’m just existing,” Aria snapped. “Sorry if that offends you.”
His jaw clenched. “That dress is a damn invitation.”
“To who?” she challenged, lifting her chin. “You, or him?”
Cade said nothing, but his eyes flicked to where Damon stood across the room, laughing with a group of investors. Aria felt the burn of Cade’s stare on her skin—and for one second, she swore he looked hurt.
“Don’t act like you care,” she whispered.
Cade stepped closer. “I don’t.”
But his hand brushed her waist before he turned away—and she felt the tremble in his fingers.
Damon found her near the bar, his voice silk and fire. “He’s unraveling. You can feel it too, can’t you?”
Aria took a breath. “And you love that, don’t you?”
“I love seeing him lose something he never appreciated,” Damon said, eyes dark. “And I love the way you look when you stop pretending he still owns a piece of you.”
“You don’t own me either.”
“No,” Damon agreed, voice low. “But I could.”
That night, Aria left alone—but not untouched.
Cade had kissed her. Furious, hungry, reckless. A kiss that said everything his mouth wouldn’t. A kiss he broke first, stepping away like it never happened.
And Damon had whispered against her skin at the elevator. “When you’re ready to stop hurting yourself for a man who won’t fight for you—come find me.”
Aria stood in her suite, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Two men.
Two storms.
And she was the fire between them.
Aria couldn’t sleep.
Her skin still buzzed from Cade’s kiss. Her lips felt bruised from how hard he’d pressed against her, how desperate it had felt—like a man at war with himself, kissing the woman he wasn’t supposed to love.
And Damon’s voice? It echoed like a dare.
Come find me.
She hated them both for the way they made her feel.
She hated herself more for wanting all of it.
So at 1:14 a.m., barefoot and furious with her own choices, she stepped into the elevator and hit the penthouse button.
Damon answered in a black T-shirt and drawstring pants, hair tousled, like he hadn’t slept either. His brows lifted the second he saw her.
“No suitcase?” he teased, stepping aside.
“I’m not here to stay.”
His smile was slow and dangerous. “Yet here you are.”
The penthouse smelled like dark wood, bourbon, and him.
Damon poured two glasses of whiskey, but she didn’t touch hers. She stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the city lights blur into the glass. Her reflection stared back at her—a woman torn between a man who broke her heart and another who wanted to set it on fire.
“He kissed you,” Damon said.
Aria didn’t turn around. “I didn’t ask for it.”
“You didn’t stop him either.”
Her head whipped toward him. “Don’t act like you’re any better.”
Damon approached slowly, his glass forgotten. “I’m not pretending to be. But I don’t lie about what I want.”
“And what do you want?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
“You.”
Simple. Direct. Too damn honest.
“I’m not a prize for you two to fight over.”
“No. You’re the one doing the choosing.” Damon stopped a breath away. “But you’re also the one who keeps pretending you haven’t already chosen.”
His hand came up, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. “You want him to be someone he’s not. And you want to hate me because I see you too clearly.”
She swallowed hard. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re not here by accident.”
His head dipped, lips brushing the corner of her mouth, barely a kiss. Just a suggestion. A promise.
“You came to me,” he murmured. “And you’ll keep coming back until you admit it’s not him that keeps you up at night anymore. It’s me.”
Aria’s hands fisted at her sides. Every inch of her body was on fire.
But when she kissed him, she didn’t think.
She just burned.
His mouth was hotter than whiskey, all tongue and teeth and hunger. He kissed like he had something to prove—and maybe he did. Maybe this was war, and she was the battlefield.
He lifted her like she weighed nothing, carried her to the couch, and laid her down without ever breaking contact.
“I’m not him,” he whispered against her skin. “I won’t leave you cold. I won’t leave you questioning.”
Her breath hitched. “You’ll leave me ruined.”
He smiled darkly. “That’s the plan.”
Clothes fell like confessions. Her dress slid to the floor. His shirt pulled over his head. And when his body pressed against hers—skin to skin—Aria knew there was no going back.
Not after this.
Not when his hands knew how to find every edge she kept hidden.
Not when he made her moan his name like it was the only word she remembered.
She left at dawn, heart still racing, skin still flushed, the taste of Damon still on her tongue.
But the second she stepped into her suite, her world tilted—
Because Cade was waiting. Sitting in her armchair. Tie loosened. Jaw locked. Eyes hollow.
“I knocked,” he said flatly. “You weren’t here.”
Aria froze.
Neither of them spoke for a full five seconds.
Then Cade looked her up and down—disheveled hair, the faded lipstick, the red marks peeking from her collarbone.
And his voice came out like gravel.
“So that’s how it’s going to be.”
- Writer
