Sunlight crept through the gap in the curtains of the penthouse suite, casting a faint glow on the rumpled bed. Damien Knight sat at the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He had hardly slept. Instead, he'd spent the last hour listening to the soft, steady breathing of the woman beside him, and silently waging war with himself.
Aria lay curled under the sheets, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, face peaceful in sleep. In the weak dawn light, she looked delicate, almost ethereal – a stark contrast to the fiery, passionate woman who had trembled in his arms just hours ago. Damien's chest tightened unexpectedly at the sight.
What had he done?
He dragged a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the unfamiliar pang in his chest. Last night had been... He closed his eyes, flashes of heated skin against skin tormenting him. It had been incredible, more than he ever expected when he'd acted on impulse and kissed her. He never did things like that – bringing a stranger to his room, losing control. But something about Aria had stripped away his restraint.
Now the cold light of morning brought reality crashing back. Damien was a man who valued control above all else. Letting someone in – even for one night – was a lapse he could ill afford. He barely knew her; they hadn't even exchanged last names. This was supposed to be nothing more than a fleeting encounter to take the edge off his own loneliness. I don't do attachments, he reminded himself harshly, rising to his feet.
As CEO of Knight Enterprises, Damien had built a life that allowed no room for vulnerability. He had learned the hard way that emotions were liabilities. The scars of his past – the betrayal, the loss – were buried deep, and he intended to keep them that way. Last night, in a moment of weakness, he had let his guard down. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
His grey eyes flicked back to Aria's sleeping form. In the gray morning haze, she looked so small and unknowingly vulnerable. A protective urge tugged at him, urging him to lay back down and pull her into his arms. The intensity of that urge unsettled him. Clenching his jaw, Damien turned away.
He dressed quietly, gathering his discarded shirt and jacket from the floor. As he buttoned his shirt with stiff fingers, he noticed Aria stir, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she shifted but did not wake. For a long moment, Damien simply watched her again, committing to memory the gentle curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fanned over delicate skin.
On the nightstand, his phone buzzed – likely a reminder of the early meeting he had in a couple of hours. Reality beckoned. He had to go.
Before he could second-guess himself, Damien reached for a notepad from the hotel desk. He hesitated, pen hovering over the paper. What could he even say? Thank you for last night? The words felt absurd. He certainly couldn't ask for her number; that would imply he intended to see her again. And he had no intention of entangling his life with a stranger's, no matter how captivating she was.
In the end, he scrawled only two words: Take care. Damien frowned at the note, then set it on the pillow next to her. A thin stab of regret went through him. It felt insufficient – cowardly, even – to leave like this. But what else was there to do? Waking her would lead to awkward conversations neither of them had signed up for.
For a brief moment, he considered leaving his business card. Reason quickly squashed the thought. Damien Knight did not do follow-ups on one-night stands. It was better this remained a closed chapter for them both.
He pulled out his wallet and, after another hesitation, placed a few large bills under the note. Part of him cringed; it felt wrong, almost insulting. But another part – the detached, pragmatic part – rationalized it. Aria had mentioned money was tight with her freelance work. This was just to help, he told himself, a simple gesture. Yet a bitter taste filled his mouth as he stepped away from the bed.
Damien cast one last look at Aria. His chest constricted again. Walk away, he commanded himself, turning on his heel. Without another sound, he left the suite, closing the door softly behind him.
Little did he know, with that choice, he was walking away from far more than just a beautiful stranger in his bed.
---
Warm rays of morning sun played on Aria's eyelids. She woke slowly, a sated ache humming through her body. For a blissful moment, she remained still, eyes closed, relishing the unfamiliar sense of contentment that cocooned her. The sheets smelled faintly of cedar and spice, instantly bringing back flashes of the night before – heated kisses, whispered names, and the safety of strong arms holding her through the darkness.
A soft smile graced Aria's lips as she reached across the bed, expecting to find Damien's solid form beside her. Her hand met cool, empty sheets.
Aria's eyes blinked open. The other side of the bed was vacant, the covers thrown back. She pushed herself up, clutching the sheet to her chest as the realization set in – he was gone.
For a moment, she simply stared at the indented pillow where his head had rested hours before. A strange hollowness bloomed in her chest. What did you expect, that he'd stay for breakfast? she chided herself, trying to ignore the sting of disappointment. Of course he hadn't stayed. It was just a one-night stand. That was the unspoken agreement, wasn't it?
Sighing, Aria scanned the room. Her dress was draped over a chair where Damien had tossed it in their haste. Pieces of last night came back in hazy snippets – her boldness shocking even herself. Heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered how wantonly she'd responded to his every touch. God, she had never done anything like that before.
As she gathered the courage to slip out of bed and retrieve her clothes, a note on the pillow caught her eye. In strong, bold handwriting it read: Take care.
Underneath the note, a handful of hundred-dollar bills lay neatly.
Aria's breath caught in her throat. She stared at the money, her mind blanking momentarily. When understanding dawned, humiliation crashed over her, swift and cold.
He had left her money. As if… as if she were some call girl he needed to pay off after a fun night.
Aria's face burned, her hands clenching the sheet. A mix of anger and mortification churned in her stomach. How dare he? She hadn't asked for this – she never expected anything from him except maybe a polite goodbye! The simple note and cash felt like a slap in the face, a cheap transaction closing what she'd naively allowed herself to believe was a genuine connection, however brief.
Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but Aria blinked them back fiercely. She refused to cry. If this was how he wanted to conclude their night, fine. It was better to know what it really meant to him.
With trembling hands, she picked up the money and the note. For a second, she considered ripping the bills to shreds, but that was foolish – she had her pride, yes, but she also had a stack of unpaid bills at home. Teeth gritted, Aria tossed the money and the note into her purse along with her scattered belongings. Later, when her head was clearer, she'd decide what to do with it.
Every step felt heavy as she dressed and left the suite that morning. The elevator ride down seemed to last an eternity, her reflection in the mirrored wall a stark reminder of her foolishness. Her lipstick was smeared, hair a tangled mess – she looked exactly like a woman who'd had a wild night and nothing else.
As she stepped out into the crisp morning air outside the hotel, Aria gulped in a breath. She told herself she'd move on and forget it. One night of madness, that's all it was. She would bury it away with the rest of her past mistakes and focus on the future.
Yet as she walked away from the hotel, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that it wasn't so simple. Something about last night had felt different, meaningful even. But Aria forced herself to ignore that voice. Men like Damien – men with power, wealth, and looks – they didn't mix with women like her except for fleeting thrills. And she had a life to live, a career to salvage, and responsibilities that didn't include indulging in fantasies.
By the time Aria reached her small apartment, she had steeled herself to put Damien Knight firmly out of her mind. He was a beautiful mistake, nothing more. She showered and changed into fresh clothes, determined to throw herself back into her work.
No, there would be no lasting consequences from last night. The odds were low, and she was always careful... except, her mind whispered, except last night you weren't.
Aria froze, the realization hitting her like a bucket of ice water. Last night, in their rush of passion, protection had been the furthest thing from either of their minds. Panic fluttered in her chest. It would be fine, she tried to assure herself. One mistake didn't automatically equal pregnancy. She was on the pill… most of the time. But in the chaos of juggling work and stress, she'd missed a dose or two recently.
Her mouth went dry. She could still recall every detail of their lovemaking – how nothing had come between them. The possibility that it could result in a pregnancy hadn't even occurred to her in the heat of the moment.
Suddenly light-headed, Aria sank down on the edge of her bed. No. I'm overthinking this. It was just one time. The chances were slim... right?