Chapter 25 – Temptation and Tension
The next evening, Aria was still raw from the night before. Damien's touch haunted her skin, Professor Callahan's warning haunted her mind, and sleep had offered no escape.
She had promised herself she'd keep her distance — but then Damien's car arrived. Black, sleek, impossible to ignore.
He didn't ask when she opened the door. He never did.
"You're coming with me tonight."
Her instinct was to argue, to demand answers about his past and Callahan's cryptic message. But when she looked at him — crisp suit, eyes that carried storms — the words caught in her throat.
"To where?" she managed.
"The Whitmore Foundation Gala." His tone left no room for debate. "I won't have you hiding in the shadows, Aria. Not when the world is watching."
Her chest tightened. A gala meant publicity, cameras, whispers. And after Callahan's warning, stepping into Damien's world felt like walking into fire.
But still, she nodded.
---
The ballroom was everything she expected and feared. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, gowns and tuxedos swirled across marble floors, laughter chimed against the clink of champagne. The kind of place where power didn't just gather — it paraded itself.
And on Damien's arm, Aria felt both exposed and untouchable.
Whispers chased them instantly.
"That's her."
"The girl who tamed Damien Black?"
"Or the girl he'll destroy?"
Damien's hand pressed lightly at her back, steadying, claiming. "Eyes forward, Aria. You're with me. Nothing else matters."
For a moment, she believed him.
Until she saw him.
Professor Callahan.
Standing near the stage in black tie, speaking easily with donors, his presence almost too convenient. When his gaze found hers, surprise flickered… then sharpened into something knowing.
Damien noticed. His grip tightened at her waist.
"You didn't mention he'd be here."
"I didn't know," she whispered.
Callahan excused himself from his circle and crossed the floor. Damien didn't move, didn't blink — predator to predator.
"Miss Daniels," Callahan greeted warmly, his voice carrying just enough to draw curious eyes. "You look radiant tonight."
Aria's cheeks heated. "Thank you, Professor."
"And Mr. Black." Callahan's tone shifted, polite but edged. "I didn't realize you had ties to the Whitmore board."
Damien's smile was thin, dangerous. "I have ties everywhere."
The orchestra struck up a waltz, but the music did nothing to soften the sharpness between them. Callahan's gaze lingered on Aria a moment too long before he excused himself — to take the stage as the keynote speaker.
As he spoke about truth, responsibility, and corruption in business, Aria's pulse raced. Every word felt like a blade, aimed not at the audience, but at Damien.
Damien didn't flinch. He just leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
"Stay close tonight. Cracks are forming."
Aria followed his gaze — to the man at the bar watching too intently, the donor whispering into his phone, the professor's eyes cutting toward her again and again.
When Damien pulled her onto the dance floor, the chandeliers casting light over them, she tried to focus on the music. But his voice was a warning wrapped in velvet.
"Whatever comes, Aria," he murmured, his hand firm at her back, "don't let go of me."
And she realized the night wasn't just about glitz and music.
It was about survival.