She didn't even realize how much she was willing to sacrifice until now, until he was standing so close, his breath warm on her skin. Her mind was racing, her thoughts spinning, but the only thing that kept repeating was: Anything.
His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, and a shiver ran down her spine. He was so close now, his body a mere inch away from hers. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make her knees weak. His touch was so soft, yet his actions were anything but tender. He was holding her captive, keeping her on edge with every move.
"I hope you won't regret it," he whispered, his breath ghosting over her ear. She could feel his words against her skin, sending another wave of heat flooding through her.
He tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. Then, with one final, lingering look, he pulled away, his gaze still fixed on her as he moved back toward the window.
Aria could hardly breathe, her chest tight with emotions she couldn't even begin to process. She was caught between fear and exhilaration, between the hope that he might actually consider her request and the dread that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.
But one thing was certain—Damien had made his mark on her, and now, there was no turning back.
Aria was standing there in a daze, her mind clouded, her breath held without her realizing it. The tension between her and Damien had been tangible, heavy enough to make her forget even the simplest act of breathing. She was so lost in the intensity of his gaze, in the warmth of his presence mere inches from her, that every other thought seemed to fade away.
What's happening to me? she thought, trying to regain her composure. Her cheeks felt hot, and she quickly looked away, her hands suddenly clammy as she became painfully aware of how close they had been just moments before.
"You may leave now," Damien's voice was calm and dismissive, but she didn't register his words. Her mind was still spinning, lost in the memory of his piercing gaze, the scent of his cologne, the way his hand had brushed hers in passing.
He sighed, noticing her lack of response, and gently but firmly placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her a slight shake. "Aria," he said again, his voice low and commanding. The touch jolted her back to reality, and she blinked up at him, momentarily disoriented.
"Oh," she stammered, pulling herself together and straightening her posture. She didn't want him to see how flustered she was, didn't want him to see how deeply he affected her. "Yes, I… I'm sorry. I was… I was just—"
He cut her off with a wave of his hand, his expression impassive as his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her want to look away. "You may leave now," he repeated. "I'll contact you after I've had time to think."
She nodded, swallowing hard, unable to speak under his gaze. It felt like he could see right through her, see every secret she'd been trying so hard to keep hidden. "Yes… yes," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm leaving now."
Without another word, she turned and hurried to the door, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to escape the room and the suffocating intensity that hung in the air. The moment she was outside, she shut the door quickly behind her, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to steady her breathing.
What's wrong with you, Aria? she scolded herself. Remember why you're here. Remember you have to take revenge, not get lost in his eyes like some lovesick fool.
She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to calm down, to think clearly. She had a mission to accomplish, and she couldn't afford distractions—not even if those distractions came in the form of a man as powerful and enigmatic as Damien.
As she made her way to the elevator, her thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She couldn't deny the pull she felt toward him, the magnetic force that seemed to draw her in despite every warning her mind screamed at her. But at the same time, she reminded herself why she was doing this, why she couldn't let herself get lost in the maze of her own emotions. Damien was part of her plan—nothing more, nothing less.
The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of his touch on her shoulder, the memory of his voice telling her to leave. She stared at her reflection in the mirrored walls, searching her own eyes for strength, for resolve. This is about revenge, not attraction, she reminded herself firmly.
Just then, her phone chimed, a notification breaking the silence. She glanced down, unlocking the screen with a quick swipe. But as she read the message, her breath caught in her throat, and a wave of dread washed over her. Her chest tightened, and it felt like the walls of the elevator were closing in around her, suffocating her.
Her fingers trembled as she clutched the phone, reading the message over and over again, trying to make sense of it. How had they found out? She had been so careful, so meticulous in covering her tracks. Who could have sent this? And how did they know her plan?
The elevator stopped, but she barely noticed. Her mind was racing, piecing together the possibilities, the threats. Every instinct screamed at her to leave, to get as far away as possible, but she couldn't shake the feeling that running would only make her look guilty, that whoever had sent this message would be watching her every move.
With a deep breath, she steadied herself and stepped out into the lobby, her heart still racing but her mind sharper, more determined. No one can know, she told herself. No one can know about my plan—not until it's too late for them to stop me.