Chapter 245 Drunk with Emily
Aria’s POV
By the time I finished the last project review meeting, it was well past ten PM.
I leaned back in my office chair, rubbing my temples.
The pharmaceutical project timeline had been brutal, but we’d managed to pull it off without any delays.
Victor had handled the preliminary logistics while I was dealing with the Smith family drama, and together we’d wrapped everything up in record time.
My phone buzzed on the desk. Another message from Damian.
[Almost done?]
I stared at the screen, my chest tightening with an emotion I couldn’t quite name.
Guilt, maybe. Or frustration.
Or the sharp, petty ache that came from knowing your mate had called out another woman’s name in his sleep.
I knew it was irrational. Dream-talk didn’t mean anything—people said all kinds of nonsense in their sleep.
Damian had probably been having some random nightmare about pack politics or old grudges, and Vanessa’s name had just... slipped out.
It didn’t mean he had feelings for her.
It didn’t mean he was thinking about her while lying next to me.
It *didn’t*.
But telling myself that and actually believing it were two entirely different things.
Every time I tried to let it go, my mind would circle back to the same questions: Why her name? Why now? What had he been dreaming about?
And the worst question of all: Was there a part of him that still wanted her?
I knew how I should handle this. I should just ask him directly—"Hey, you said Vanessa’s name in your sleep, what was that about?"—and let him explain.
But I couldn’t make myself do it.
Because if I asked, he’d feel terrible. He’d apologize profusely, get that wounded look in his eyes, blame himself for hurting me even though it wasn’t really his fault.
And then what?
Even if he swore up and down that Vanessa meant nothing to him... could I really believe it? Or would there always be that tiny sliver of doubt, that whisper in the back of my mind saying *but what if*?
My phone buzzed again.
[It’s totally fine if you’d rather stay at your penthouse tonight. Or I can come pick you up.]
I sighed, typing out a quick reply.
[Working late. Going to grab drinks with a friend. Don’t wait up.]
The response was almost instant.
[Okay.]
Just that. One word.
No "Which friend?" or "How late will you be?" or "Are you avoiding me?"
Maybe he was giving me space. Maybe he could sense through the bond that I was upset and didn’t want to push.
Or maybe he was relieved to have the evening to himself.
*Stop it*, I told myself firmly. *Stop spiraling.*
There was no friend. No drinks.
I didn’t even know where I’d go once I left this office—I just knew I wasn’t ready to go home and pretend everything was fine, wasn’t ready to sit across from Damian and look him in the eye.
The lie had bought me a few more hours. That was all I wanted right now.
I shoved my phone in my bag and started gathering my things, though for what, I had no idea.
I’d just reached for my coat when my office door opened.
I froze.
Emily stood in the doorway, barely visible in the darkened hallway.
The motion sensor lights flickered on a second later, illuminating her pale face and the way she was hugging herself like she was cold.
"Emily?" I took a step toward her, surprise cutting through my haze. "What are you doing here? It’s almost eleven."
She shook her head, fingers twisting together nervously. "I know it’s late. I just...wanted to talk to you. If you have time."
There was something fragile in her voice—something that made my chest tighten with concern.
"Of course," I said immediately. "Is everything okay? How’s the transition to Silver Creek going?"
"Good," she said quickly. Too quickly. "Everyone’s been really nice. The work is exactly what you said it would be."
"That’s great." I studied her face, trying to read what she wasn’t saying. "So... what did you want to talk about?"
Emily hesitated.
"Can we... not do this here?" she asked. "I know a quiet bar a few blocks over. We could talk there?"
I glanced at my watch—10:47 PM. Late for a work night, but Emily looked like she really needed this.
And honestly? So did I. It was as good an excuse as any not to go home yet.
"Sure," I said. "Lead the way."
---
The bar Emily had chosen—a place called Amber&Oak, tucked away on a side street I’d never noticed before.
It was one of those dimly lit places with exposed brick walls and jazz music playing softly in the background.
We claimed a corner booth, and I ordered a glass of wine while Emily asked for something stronger.
"Rough week?" I asked gently.
"You could say that." She took a long sip of her drink, then set it down carefully. "I wanted to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. The job, helping me get out of that situation..."
"You don’t need to thank me," I said. "You were good at your job, Emily. You deserved better than this."
"Still." She met my eyes. "Not many people would have stuck their neck out like that. Especially not for someone they barely knew."
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the gratitude. "I knew enough. I knew you were talented and undervalued. That was all that mattered."
Emily smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
We sat in silence for a moment, the jazz music filling the space between us.
"Can I ask you something?" Emily said finally. "And... you can tell me it’s none of my business if you want."
"Okay..."
"Your mate—the Alpha King. Damian Blackwood." She paused. "Are you happy?"
The question caught me completely off guard.
"I—" I stopped, genuinely unsure how to answer. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you’ve seemed... off. The past few days." Emily’s gaze was uncomfortably perceptive. "Distracted. Like something’s bothering you but you’re trying to pretend it isn’t."
Was I really that transparent?
"It’s complicated," I said finally.
"Isn’t it always?" Emily’s smile was wry. "Sorry. I’m projecting. I just... I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately. About what we’re willing to tolerate from the people we love."
There was something heavy in her tone—something that suggested this wasn’t just small talk.
"Emily," I said carefully, "did something happen?"
She stared into her drink for a long moment.
"No," she said eventually. "Nothing happened. I’m just... tired of pretending, I guess. Tired of acting like everything’s fine when it’s not."
I knew that feeling. Knew it intimately.
"You want to talk about it?" I offered.
"Not really." She laughed, but it sounded hollow. "I’d rather hear about your problems, actually. Gives me an excuse not to think about my own."
I took a sip of my wine, considering.
The old Aria would have deflected. Would have insisted everything was fine, changed the subject, kept her walls firmly in place.
But something about Emily’s raw honesty made me want to be honest too.
"I think he might still have feelings for someone else," I said quietly.
The words felt like broken glass in my throat.
Emily’s eyes widened. "Your mate? The Alpha King?"