Chapter 250 Do you still have feelings for Vanessa?
Aria’s POV
I stood there, my hand still resting against Damian’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm.
"My wrist," I said quietly. "He grabbed my wrist when I tried to leave."
That was it. That was the only place Ethan had touched me.
But Damian’s expression darkened anyway.
His hand moved slowly, deliberately, tracing a path from my cheek downward. When his fingers reached my waist, they tightened—hard enough that I let out a small gasp.
It wasn’t quite pain, but it wasn’t gentle either.
"Here?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Or here?"
I looked up at him, confused by the sudden intensity in his eyes. His brows were furrowed, and beneath the surface of that controlled exterior, I could see genuine anger.
"Are you... mad at me?" I whispered.
"I’m angry," he corrected, his breath hot against my skin as he leaned closer. "But not at you."
He moved nearer still, until his lips were barely an inch from mine, his voice dropping to something rough and raw.
"I’m jealous. Furiously jealous. And right now, it’s eating me alive."
"But that was all him," I protested weakly. "It was one-sided. You don’t need to be upset about someone like him. He’s nothing compared to you—"
My words trailed off as Damian closed the remaining distance between us, his lips hovering just at the corner of my mouth.
"Nothing compared to me?" he repeated. "In what way?"
My breath caught. Even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, he was devastatingly handsome. But right now, he looked different from his usual composed self—there was something primal in his presence, something that made my pulse race for entirely different reasons.
Like a predator who’d been toying with his prey and had finally decided to strike.
"In every way," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "He couldn’t compare to a single hair on your head."
"Tell me more."
His hand began to move again, sliding up from my waist with torturous slowness. His lips brushed against my cheek, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
"I want to hear you say you only love me."
Heat flooded my face. Did he really expect me to say something so direct?
"Tell me," he commanded softly, his breath warm against my ear. "Now."
"I... I only love you."
The words came out shy and hesitant, and I felt my cheeks burning.
"Say my name."
"Damian..."
"Not that one."
I knew what he wanted. "Alpha."
"No." His voice was barely a growl now. "What am I to you?"
Oh god.
"My... my sweetheart," I whispered.
I’d never called him that before—not like this, not with such intimacy lacing the word. It came out soft and breathy, almost embarrassingly so.
"Again," he murmured, and I could hear the satisfaction in his tone.
His voice was like dark velvet, wrapping around me and setting every nerve ending on fire. We were still standing in the parking lot, but heat was already pooling low in my belly, spreading through my body like wildfire.
My ears felt like they were burning.
"Sweetheart," I breathed.
The moment the word left my lips, Damian tilted my chin up and captured my mouth in a searing kiss.
I felt his throat work as he swallowed, saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed slowly, like he was savoring every second of this.
The kiss deepened, became more languid and thorough.
I’d had a few drinks earlier, and combined with this kiss, my head was spinning. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the thin fabric of his shirt beneath my palms. The material was soft and warm, clinging to the hard planes of muscle underneath.
God, he felt good. Solid. Real.
His arms were wrapped firmly around me, one hand pressed against my back with just the right amount of pressure—not too light, not too heavy, but enough to send tingles down my spine.
We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, until I finally had to squeeze his hand because I was running out of air.
That’s when I noticed the car pulling up—Rick, I assumed, though I didn’t look closely.
The driver hesitated, clearly unsure whether to interrupt, and only approached after Damian and I had separated. I immediately grabbed Damian’s hand and tugged him toward the vehicle.
Once we were inside, reality came crashing back.
Wait.
Damian was supposed to be resting. He’d promised me he wouldn’t leave the estate unnecessarily. So why was he here?
"Because you were ignoring me," he said simply.
There was no guilt in his voice, no apology. Just matter-of-fact honesty.
He explained that he’d noticed I was upset—noticed I’d been dragging my feet about coming home.
So he’d had someone drive him to my penthouse.
"But you were supposed to wait for me at home," I said.
"If you’re not coming home," he said quietly, "and the only person waiting at home is me... well. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re upset with me."
A lump formed in my throat. "I wasn’t ignoring you."
"Then what’s wrong?" His gaze was steady, unflinching. "Tell me what I did, and I’ll fix it. I promise."
The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache.
I bit my lip, then decided to just come out with it.
"Damian... be honest with me. Do you still have feelings for Vanessa?"