Author's POV
Aria sat there, her heart racing in her chest, her palms clammy with sweat. She had just asked Damien, the man who held all the power in the room, for something so beyond what she ever thought she would, and now the silence between them felt suffocating. Her eyes were fixed on him, watching every movement, every shift of his body, hoping for a sign that he might consider her desperate plea. But all he did was hum in response, his gaze never leaving the window.
Her breath hitched as she realized he wasn't even looking at her anymore. Was he really considering her request? Or was he toying with her? She couldn't tell, but the feeling of being ignored — dismissed without a second thought — twisted something inside her. She wasn't used to this.
She took a slow, shaky breath, her voice a whisper as she pleaded, "Please consider this, just once." It felt like she was begging, but there was nothing left in her to hide it. This wasn't some casual request; this was her last resort. The thought of failing at this — of not getting his help — filled her with dread.
Damien didn't immediately respond. Instead, he pulled out his phone, handing it to her without a word.
"Type your number in here and go. I'll think about it," he said, his tone flat, impassive. It was as if he was granting her a mere formality, a task to be completed before he could dismiss her for good.
"Yes, yes, I will, I'll—" she stammered, her hands trembling as she took the phone from him. She couldn't believe what was happening. He wasn't rejecting her, not outright at least.
She quickly typed in her number, making sure it was correct. There was no room for mistakes. She couldn't afford it. Her fingers felt stiff, like they didn't belong to her, but she powered through, determined not to mess this up. After a moment, she handed the phone back to him, her breath catching in her throat.
Damien didn't look at her as he took it from her. "Hmm," was all he said, his attention already drifting away again. It was like she was invisible, her presence nothing more than a fleeting moment that he didn't even care to acknowledge.
She waited, but he never looked back at her. Her heart sank as she realized that might be the end of it. He wasn't going to say anything more. There was no sign of him changing his mind. Was that it? Had she failed?
Her chest tightened, and a wave of frustration surged through her. How could he be so cold, so indifferent to her plea? The nerve of him, to just dismiss her like that. She had expected something, even a shred of compassion, but he gave her nothing. He didn't even care enough to look at her.
But still, she clung to hope. It wasn't over yet. He hadn't rejected her outright, hadn't slammed the door in her face. He just... wasn't saying anything. That meant there was still a chance, however small.
With that bitter thought still hanging in her mind, she stood up, slowly, reluctantly, as if making her exit was somehow easier than facing the possibility that she might never see him again. He wasn't looking at her. He wasn't saying anything. What more could she do? What more was there to say?
"I'll take my leave then," she said, her voice far steadier than she felt. She had to act like she wasn't dying inside, like this wasn't breaking her apart.
As she made her way to the door, her fingers grazing the cool handle, she heard his voice call out her name.
"Aria."
Her heart stuttered in her chest. He said her name. He had never said it before. It wasn't just another command or dismissive remark. No, it was her name—spoken with an almost... gentle undertone. She froze, her fingers lingering on the door. For a split second, the world around her stopped.
Aria.
She turned back toward him, surprised by how much his voice seemed to affect her. He was already standing, his tall frame moving with an unsettling ease toward her. In a few strides, he was standing in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence. She took a small step back, her breath catching as his eyes locked with hers.
"You see... one thing is bothering me," Damien murmured, his voice low, his gaze unwavering. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek lightly, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. She could feel his fingers graze against her skin, a touch that should've felt impersonal but instead felt like a claim.
Her breath faltered, her heart racing again. The touch was soft, almost tender, but the intensity of his eyes made her feel anything but safe. Nervousness bubbled inside her, twisting in her stomach as she struggled to find her voice.
"Y-Yes?" Her voice came out shakier than she intended, betraying the unease crawling under her skin. His closeness was suffocating in the best and worst way. The way he was looking at her made her feel vulnerable, exposed.
He leaned in, and before she could even react, she felt his hand on her chin, tilting her head upward, forcing her to look him in the eyes. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, but there was something else there—something she couldn't quite decipher.
"Are you sure you'll do anything... whatever I ask?" His voice was laced with a dark curiosity, and she could feel the weight of his words pressing down on her.
"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no hesitation. She would do anything. Anything to make sure he helped her. Anything to get him to hear her, to see her.
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