Chapter 2: The Clash
787 Words
Aria told herself she was imagining it.
The weight of his gaze. The silent pull that had made her chest tighten. The way her body had betrayed her with every stolen glance.
She had slipped away from the ballroom after her near collision with Damian, needing space, air, anything to calm the storm inside her. The terrace was quiet, only the soft hum of the city below and the faint music drifting through the glass doors behind her. She gripped the cool stone railing and let her eyes wander over Manhattan’s skyline, glittering and endless.
“Running away so soon?”
The voice came from the shadows to her left, low and smooth, unmistakable.
Aria’s heart lurched. She turned, and there he was — Damian. Alone now, without the silver-draped woman who had clung to his arm minutes earlier. He leaned casually against the stone pillar, but there was nothing casual in the way his eyes studied her.
“I’m not running,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even.
His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Then what would you call it?”
Aria straightened, trying to summon every ounce of defiance she had. “Some of us don’t enjoy being the center of attention. Unlike you, apparently.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant honk of a taxi far below. Then he pushed away from the pillar and stepped closer.
Her pulse quickened with every stride he took. There was something about the way he moved — controlled, deliberate, as though every inch of him belonged exactly where he wanted it to.
“Is that what you think?” he asked quietly, now only a few feet away. “That I enjoy all… this?” He gestured vaguely toward the ballroom behind them.
Aria lifted her chin. “Don’t you?" You looked right at home in there. Powerful. Untouchable.”
A shadow flickered in his eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
“Maybe,” she said, refusing to back down, “but some people wear their masks better than others.”
The silence that followed was heavier this time, crackling with something sharp. He studied her as though no one had ever dared speak to him like that before — and maybe they hadn’t.
Finally, he leaned in just enough that she caught the faintest trace of his cologne, dark and intoxicating. “You’re very bold for someone who almost spilled champagne all over me.”
Aria’s cheeks flushed. “I said I was sorry.”
“You did.” His gaze lingered on her lips, then lifted back to her eyes. “But you also challenged me. Most people… don’t.
“Maybe they’re afraid of you,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
Something flickered in his expression — not offense, but intrigue. He tilted his head, as if considering her from a new angle. “And you’re not?”
She swallowed hard, because the truth was, she was. He unsettled her, not with cruelty, but with the sheer intensity of his presence. Yet fear wasn’t the only thing stirring inside her chest.
“I don’t know you well enough to be afraid,” she said softly.
That earned her another one of his rare, almost smiles. “Maybe you should be.”
Before she could respond, the terrace doors swung open, and Maya stumbled out, cheeks flushed from champagne and laughter. “Aria!" There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere—” She stopped short when her eyes landed on Damian.
“Oh,” Maya breathed, her tone shifting instantly. “I didn’t realize you were… occupied.”
Aria stepped back quickly, needing distance before her friend could read the tension lingering in the air. “We were just talking.”
Damian’s eyes lingered on her for a beat longer, then he gave a polite nod, his mask slipping seamlessly back into place. “Ladies.” And just like that, he walked away, disappearing into the glittering chaos of the ballroom.
Maya turned to her, eyes wide. “Aria," Do you know who that is?”
Aria exhaled, her chest tight. “Damian… something. I didn’t catch his last name.
Maya gaped. Damian Blackwood. Heir to the Blackwood empire. One of the most powerful — and dangerous — families in the city. People say his family’s fortune has shadowed no one dares talk about.
The name sent a shiver down Aria’s spine. She looked back toward the ballroom, where Damian had vanished, her thoughts tangled in confusion and reluctant fascination.
Dangerous. Untouchable. Off-limits.
So why did she already know this was only the beginning?
- Writer
