Chapter 17 – Whispers of the Past
The storm had cleared by morning, but the tension in Aria's chest had not.
Damien's penthouse glowed in the soft light of dawn, glass windows catching streaks of gold and silver. He stood near the balcony, a shadow against the skyline, shirtless, a glass of whiskey in hand though it was barely past sunrise.
Aria watched him from the bed, the sheet wrapped around her like a fragile shield. She remembered the way his mouth had claimed hers hours ago, the way his hands had burned every inch of her skin, but now… there was something darker about him, as if he carried ghosts she couldn't see.
"Whiskey this early?" she teased lightly, trying to pierce the silence.
His gaze flicked to hers. "Helps me think."
"About what?"
He took a long sip before answering. "About how quickly people vanish when you stop being useful to them." His voice was calm, but the weight beneath it made her shiver.
Aria sat up, hugging the sheet to her chest. "Is that what happened to you?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. Then he turned fully, eyes sharp yet vulnerable. "Everyone wants something from me, Aria. Power, money, protection. No one ever stays for me."
Her heart tightened. She had never seen him like this—unguarded, stripped of the arrogance he usually wore like armor.
She rose from the bed and crossed the room, the sheet trailing behind her. Standing before him, she placed her hand over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I'm not everyone."
His jaw flexed, as though fighting belief. He set the glass aside and cupped her face in both hands, his touch rough yet trembling slightly. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Her breath caught at the rawness in his eyes. She leaned into his touch, pressing her lips softly to his palm. "Then don't push me away."
The air between them thickened, charged with more than desire. Damien bent down, kissing her—not with the hunger that usually consumed them, but slow, reverent, as though he was letting her into a part of himself he kept locked away.
Her body melted into his, but her mind still echoed with Lila's warning. Dangerous.
When they finally pulled apart, Aria whispered, "Damien… what are you so afraid of?"
His eyes darkened. He kissed her again, harder this time, avoiding the question. But just before his mouth claimed hers fully, he murmured against her lips:
"Not afraid. Haunted."
And in that moment, she knew—his past wasn't just shadows. It was something that could destroy them both.