Chapter 109 What really happened?
Aria’s POV
I quickly wiped at my eyes, making sure no treacherous tears had escaped, then rolled down the window.
"You’ve been sitting out here for twenty minutes," he said quietly. His gray-black eyes searched my face with an intensity that made my breath catch. "I was starting to worry."
Twenty minutes? I glanced at the dashboard clock. He was right. I’d been so lost in my thoughts, replaying that overheard conversation, that I hadn’t even noticed time passing.
"I’m fine," I said automatically. The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. "Just... thinking."
Damian’s jaw tightened fractionally. He didn’t believe me—I could see it in the way his gaze sharpened, reading every microexpression I couldn’t quite hide.
He reached for the door handle. "Come inside."
It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. It was a command, delivered in that low, authoritative tone that probably made everyone in his Pack snap to attention.
But instead of irritating me, it felt... grounding. Like an anchor in the storm of emotions churning through my chest.
I grabbed my purse and stepped out of the car. The night air was cool against my heated skin, carrying the faint scent of cedar and lavender—Damian’s scent, stronger now that we were standing so close.
He closed the car door behind me, his hand coming to rest at the small of my back as he guided me toward the house. The touch was light, almost imperceptible, but I felt it like a brand through the fabric of my suit jacket.
"What happened?" he asked as we climbed the porch steps.
I shook my head. "Long day."
"Aria." He stopped at the front door, turning to face me fully. His hand moved from my back to cup my elbow, thumb brushing against the inside of my wrist where my pulse hammered too fast. "Talk to me."
God, why did he have to look at me like that? Like I actually mattered. Like my pain was his pain.
It would be so easy to break down right here. To let him wrap those strong arms around me and pretend, just for a moment, that I wasn’t completely alone in this world.
But I’d already made that mistake once. I’d let myself believe that Ethan cared, that Grandma Rose cared, that any of them saw me as more than a convenient tool to be used and discarded.
I wasn’t going to be that naive again.
"It’s nothing," I said, forcing my voice to stay level.
Damian studied me for a long moment. Then, thankfully, he didn’t push.
I unlocked the front door and ushered him inside.
The house was warm, inviting, filled with soft lamplight that made everything feel safer somehow.
"Have you eaten?" he asked, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it by the door.
I tried to remember. Had I eaten lunch? Breakfast? Everything before that phone call felt like it had happened in another lifetime.
"I’m not really hungry," I admitted. "But I could use a drink."
Something flickered across his face—understanding, maybe, or concern.He unlocked the front door and ushered me inside.
"I don’t know how to make cocktails. Should we go out?"
I blinked at him, momentarily distracted from my spiral of dark thoughts. "Wait. There’s actually something the Alpha King doesn’t know how to do?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "The Alpha King isn’t omnipotent, despite what people seem to think."
"Shocking," I said, and despite everything, I felt my own lips curve slightly. "Lucky for you, I actually know how to mix drinks."
His eyebrows rose. "You do?"
"A little bit." I held up my thumb and forefinger, leaving barely any space between them. "You can think of them as fancy soft drinks."
"Then I’ll have whatever you’re making."
"Deal."
I headed for the kitchen, grateful for something to occupy my hands.
My bar setup was fully stocked—premium spirits, liqueurs, fresh garnishes in the fridge, proper glassware. Everything I needed.
I rolled up my sleeves and got to work, letting muscle memory take over. The familiar ritual of mixing drinks was oddly soothing—measuring, shaking, pouring.
Creating something balanced and precise when everything else in my life felt like chaos.
After a few minutes of focused work, I had two cocktails ready. One pale blue, one soft pink.
I slid the blue one toward Damian. "Try it?"
I’d remembered his preference from our previous meals together—he didn’t like overly sweet things. So I’d made his drink clean and crisp: mint, lemon, gin, with just a hint of tonic. Refreshing, sophisticated, with a bite.
He lifted the glass, those long fingers wrapping around it with casual elegance, and took a sip. His eyes widened fractionally.
"It’s cold," he said, then took another drink. "But good. Really good."
"Is it too cold? I can make you something warm instead—"
I reached for his glass, but he pulled it out of reach.
"No need." His eyes hadn’t left my face. "You made this for me. I want to savor it properly."
The intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. Heat crept up my neck.
I grabbed my own glass quickly, clinking it gently against his. "Cheers."
"Cheers," he echoed, that small smile still playing at his lips.
I took a sip of my own drink—rose syrup, honey, a splash of prosecco. Sweet and delicate, with just enough sparkle to make it interesting.
"Why is mine blue and yours pink?" Damian asked, watching me over the rim of his glass.
My heart did a stupid little flutter. "Because mine has rose honey syrup. It’s sweeter. But yours has mint, lemon, and gin—clean and sharp. The colors match the flavors."
I hesitated, then added quietly, "And... the first time we met, I thought your eyes looked like the ocean. Deep and intense. Blue seemed fitting."
Something shifted in his expression. His gray-black eyes darkened, and he was silent for a beat too long.
Then he raised his glass and took another long drink, his throat working as he swallowed. When he set it down, his voice came out rougher than usual.
"Thank you."
Just two words, but they felt weighted with meaning I couldn’t quite decipher.
I smiled despite myself, taking another sip of my own drink. For a moment, I let myself just... exist.
Not thinking about the Holts, not planning my next move, just standing in this warm kitchen with someone who actually seemed to see me as human.
"Tell me about today," Damian said after a moment, his voice gentle. "What really happened?"
The reprieve was over.