Chapter 18 – The Rival's Game
The knock at the penthouse door was sharp, insistent — too early for visitors, too purposeful to ignore.
Damien's jaw tightened as he pulled a shirt over his shoulders. Aria clutched the sheet tighter around her body, unease prickling through her. Something in his eyes told her he already knew who it was.
When he opened the door, her breath caught.
She was stunning. Raven hair swept into loose curls, a dress that clung like it had been sewn onto her skin, diamonds winking at her ears. Her lips curved into a smile that was all venom and silk.
"Damien," she purred, stepping inside without invitation. Her eyes flicked briefly to Aria, then back to him with calculated slowness. "It's been too long."
Aria felt her stomach drop. The woman didn't just know Damien — she owned history with him.
"Leave, Selene," Damien said flatly, his tone carrying a sharpness Aria hadn't heard directed at anyone but business rivals.
Selene's smirk deepened. "You don't mean that. You never did." Her gaze finally landed on Aria, lingering in a way that made her flush. "And this must be… the new pastime?"
Heat flared in Aria's cheeks, humiliation twisting in her chest. Pastime. As if she were nothing more than a fling.
Damien's voice cut like steel. "Watch your mouth."
But Selene only laughed, the sound low and throaty. "Relax, Damien. You don't need to protect her. She'll learn soon enough what the rest of us already know."
Aria's throat tightened. "And what's that?"
Selene's eyes glinted. "That he burns hot, but never stays. You're not the first to think you're different. You won't be the last."
The words stabbed deep, hitting every insecurity Aria hadn't dared voice. Was she just another name in his long, glittering history?
"Enough." Damien's tone was lethal now. He gripped Selene's arm, steering her firmly toward the door. "You don't exist in my life anymore. Don't mistake nostalgia for relevance."
Selene's smirk faltered for just a second — but she recovered quickly, leaning close enough to whisper against his ear, loud enough for Aria to hear: "We'll see how long she lasts."
The door slammed behind her.
Aria stood frozen, her chest tight, the sheet slipping slightly from her grip. The silence roared between them.
"Don't listen to her," Damien said immediately, striding back to her. His hands caught her shoulders, his eyes burning with urgency. "She's nothing. She was never anything compared to you."
But the doubt lingered. "Then why did she sound so sure?"
His answer wasn't words. He cupped her face, kissing her with bruising desperation, as though he could erase Selene's venom with his mouth. The kiss was rough, raw — not tender like last night, but a battle, a claim.
He pressed her against the wall, stripping the sheet away, his hands roaming her as though proving with every touch that she was his and only his.
"Mine," he growled against her throat, biting hard enough to leave a mark. "Not a pastime. Not a fling. Mine."
Aria clung to him, her doubts colliding with the force of his passion. When he entered her, it wasn't slow — it was fierce, consuming, every thrust filled with desperation to anchor her to him. She gasped his name, her nails raking his skin, caught between anger, desire, and something dangerously close to surrender.
When they both shattered, trembling and breathless, Damien held her so tight she could barely breathe.
But as the city lights flickered outside, Aria's phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She reached for it with trembling fingers. The screen lit up with a headline and a photo.
Her heart stopped.
It was them — Damien and Aria — caught in a kiss on the balcony, the photo already spreading online.
The world now knew.