Bound by One Night

By the time Aria stepped through the grand front doors of the Blackwood estate, she had arranged her features into a fragile mask of normalcy. Inside, midday light filtered through high windows, illuminating the foyer. Aria paused and drew a steadying breath. Keep it together, she told herself. She couldn't afford to crumble—not when Damien might notice.

A burst of giggles drifted from the living room, guiding Aria forward. She found Noah and Damien amidst a cheerful mess of toys on the plush rug. Noah looked up from the block castle he was constructing and squealed, "Mommy!"

He bolted toward her. Aria barely had time to drop her purse and kneel before Noah flung his small arms around her neck. She hugged him tightly, the innocent warmth of her child easing some of the chill from her encounter with Victor. "I missed you too, sweetheart," she whispered.

"You're back." Damien's deep voice drew her attention. He rose from an armchair with a picture book in hand, a subtle smile on his lips. The usual sternness of his face was gentled by concern. "How was the shopping trip?"

"Fine," Aria lied softly, forcing a smile as she straightened up with Noah still clinging to her. "I got everything we need for the art fair." Technically, that wasn't a lie—she had indeed picked up the craft supplies for Noah's preschool event, albeit in a daze after her run-in with Victor.

Damien's brow creased as he stepped closer. "You look a little pale. Are you alright?"

Aria's heart gave a nervous thump. She should have known he'd notice even the smallest thing. Damien was nothing if not observant, especially where Noah—and increasingly, she—were concerned. Aria quickly averted her eyes under the pretense of setting Noah down. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired from running around, that's all."

Noah tugged at Aria's hand, oblivious to the tension. "Mommy, Daddy was reading me a story about a dragon! And we made a pillow castle!"

Aria mustered a genuine smile for Noah's sake. "That sounds amazing, honey! Why don't you show me after we clean up for lunch?"

At the mention of food, Noah beamed and scampered off to corral his scattered toys—anything to speed up mealtime. Aria set her son down and moved to hang her coat, acutely aware of Damien's eyes following her every movement.

"Aria," he said in a lower voice once Noah was occupied, "are you sure everything's okay? You seem… shaken."

Aria's pulse skittered. She busied herself smoothing a wrinkle in her blouse, avoiding his gaze. One look into those piercing dark eyes and he'd see the cracks in her composure. "I'm fine, really. It was just crowded and hectic out. I think I need a glass of water."

Damien didn't look convinced, but Noah's excited chatter as he cleaned up gave Aria the reprieve she needed. She escaped to the kitchen, filling a glass with cold water to cool the lump of fear still lodged in her throat.

Within minutes, father and son joined her, Noah proudly announcing, "All clean!"

A lunch routine fell into place with comforting normalcy. Aria pulled out bread and sandwich fixings while Noah climbed into his booster seat. When her hands trembled cutting a tomato, Damien gently took the knife from her. "Careful," he murmured, concern etched on his face. "I can handle this."

"I'm okay," Aria insisted, but let him help. Her nerves were frayed, and the last thing she needed was a cut finger betraying her anxiety further.

Side by side, they prepared a simple lunch. It struck Aria how domestic the scene was: Damien in his rolled-up shirtsleeves expertly slicing vegetables, Noah humming a tune, and she herself fighting the urge to lean into the comfort of their presence.

They sat around the small kitchen table, Noah eagerly biting into his sandwich. He regaled them with a toddler's account of the dragon story, complete with dramatic roars, bringing a soft chuckle from Damien. Aria cherished the sound—it was rare to hear Damien laugh so freely. For a moment she allowed herself to bask in this fragile happiness, wishing it weren't built on secrets.

But the weight of Victor's threat pressed at the edges of her mind. Each time Damien's knee brushed hers under the table or when he refilled her water glass with gentle insistence, guilt twisted in her.

When Noah's energy flagged and his eyelids drooped, Damien scooped him up to take him upstairs for a nap. "I'll be right back," he said, cradling the drowsy boy against his chest. Noah reached a small hand towards Aria.

"Sleepy, Mommy," he mumbled.

"I'll come tuck you in soon, love," Aria promised, smoothing Noah's hair before father and son disappeared up the staircase.

As soon as they were gone, her smile fell. In the quiet kitchen, Aria's façade wavered. She pressed a hand to her forehead, breathing slowly to keep the rising panic at bay.

She had to think of something—some way to stop Victor from exposing her. Money, favors, whatever it took, she would do it. Damien's world was ruthless; a scandal about his wife lying about her identity could ruin not only her, but him and Noah. She couldn't allow that.

A few minutes later, Damien returned alone. "Out like a light," he reported softly, referring to Noah.

"Thank you," Aria said, managing a weary smile. She began to clear the plates, but Damien caught her wrist, stopping her.

"Leave it for now," he said. His touch was gentle yet it sent a spark of awareness up her arm. "We need to talk."

Aria's heart lurched. "About what?" she asked, feigning ignorance even as she knew exactly what.

"You know what," Damien replied, tone firm. "Aria, I can tell something happened while you were out. If someone or something is bothering you, I want you to tell me."

"I…I don't want to worry you," she hedged, lowering her eyes. "It's nothing I can't handle."

His jaw tightened. "Why won't you let me in? I meant what I said when we married—I will protect you and Noah. But I can't do that if you shut me out."

Emotion clogged her throat. He was offering her the very shield she yearned for, yet she was too afraid to accept it. If only the truth weren't so potentially devastating… "Damien, I appreciate it. I do. But some things… they're just from my past. I have to sort them out myself."

His dark brows drew together. Clearly, that wasn't the assurance he wanted. "Your past," he echoed quietly, as if tasting the uncertainty of the word. Before he could ask more, Aria mustered a smile and gently withdrew her wrist from his grasp.

"I'm okay, truly," she said softly. Stepping past him, she added, "I think I'll lie down for a bit while Noah's napping. Thank you for understanding."

Damien's frustration was palpable in the press of his lips, but he nodded. "Alright. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

Aria hurried upstairs, feeling his concerned gaze follow her until she disappeared down the hall.

Once in the sanctuary of her bedroom, Aria closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling shakily. Holding herself together under Damien's scrutiny was exhausting. Her instincts screamed at her to confide in him, to trust in his protection. But the risks held her tongue.

She crossed to the side of the bed and sank onto the mattress. The afternoon sun slanted through the curtains, painting gentle patterns on the floor. It should have been a peaceful moment, but Aria's mind churned. Victor's smug face swam in her memory. Does your husband even know who he's married to?

A shiver ran through her. She had to act before Victor did. Perhaps she could buy him off with what little savings she had. Or beg him for mercy, if any still existed in him.

As she grappled for a plan, Aria's phone buzzed loudly in the silence, making her jump. Her hand flew to her pocket. She pulled out the phone and her blood went cold at the notification on the screen: Unknown Number.

With a deep breath, Aria unlocked the phone and opened the text message that had arrived.

Tomorrow. 2 PM. Graystone Cafe downtown. Come alone.

No name, no further instructions. None were needed—she knew exactly who it was and what it meant. Victor was calling in his "favor," and he wanted to meet.

Aria's heart pounded as she stared at the terse message. A public cafe in the middle of the day… likely chosen so she wouldn't make a scene. Come alone. As if she would dare involve anyone else.

Terror and resolve warred within her. She pressed a hand to her trembling lips. There was no choice. She would go and hear what Victor wanted. Whatever it took, she'd protect her son and this life she'd begun to build with Damien.

Clutching the phone, Aria steeled herself. I can do this, she thought, though her stomach was knotted with dread. She had survived the Lancasters' world once; she could survive Victor Hayes.

She only prayed that when tomorrow came, she'd find the strength to keep her past from destroying her family's future.