Bound by One Night

With that loaded farewell, Victor stepped around Damien and strode out of the café. The bell above the door jingled innocently in his wake. Aria stood frozen, her hands clutched tightly around the strap of her handbag. Her lungs burned—she'd forgotten to breathe. Damien hadn't moved either, but the air around him crackled with restrained anger. A few patrons cast curious glances. Aria gently touched Damien's arm. "Let's not do this here," she whispered, voice pleading. His muscles were taut beneath her fingers. For a moment, she thought he might explode anyway. But he gave a curt nod. "Outside. Now." The drive in his car was dead silent. Damien's knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he navigated through afternoon traffic. Aria sat rigid in the passenger seat, twisting her fingers. She ventured once, "Damien, I can explain—" only to be met with a sharp, "Save it. We'll talk at home." Home. That single word felt ominous. By the time they pulled through the gates of the Blackwood estate, Aria was sick with dread. The car had barely rolled to a stop before Damien climbed out. Aria followed, heart in her throat as he shut the front door behind them and rounded on her in the foyer. "Now you're going to tell me exactly what that was all about," Damien said, voice low and simmering as he tossed his keys onto the entry table. He was visibly fighting to keep his anger in check. Aria opened her mouth, but no sound came. Under his piercing stare, every excuse she'd rehearsed evaporated. "Well?" He stepped closer, and Aria flinched at the intensity in his eyes. "I'm waiting." She wrung her hands. "It… it was like I said. Victor is someone I knew a long time ago. We ran into each other and he insisted on catching up over coffee. I didn't think it was important enough to bother you with." Damien's eyes flashed. "Not important enough?" he repeated in disbelief. "Aria, you lied to me. You snuck off to meet another man behind my back." Her own temper, stoked by fear and guilt, finally kindled. "I didn't sneak off," she retorted. "You were at work. I'm allowed to have a cup of coffee with an old acquaintance without being interrogated like a criminal!" He let out a harsh laugh—without humor. "An old acquaintance? Don't treat me like an idiot. I saw your face when I walked in. You looked terrified. So either you were in trouble, or you were doing something you know you shouldn't. Which is it?" "I wasn't doing anything wrong," she said, but the protest sounded weak. "Do you have any idea what went through my mind when I saw you with him?" Damien demanded. "The woman who promised honesty, meeting some guy in secret after acting jumpy for days—" "I never promised anything," Aria shot back, heat rising to her cheeks. "We have a contract, Damien. Don't twist it." He halted, eyes narrowing. "Is that all this is to you? A contract?" Aria faltered, realizing how cold that sounded. "I just mean… you're blowing this out of proportion. Nothing happened." "Then why hide it?" Damien's voice echoed off the high ceiling. "Why lie to my face about it yesterday? You told me you'd come to me if something was wrong, and not even 24 hours later you go behind my back!" Shame curled in her stomach. "I didn't want to worry you," she tried. "Victor… he's part of a past I'd rather forget. I thought I could handle it alone." "Clearly you couldn't," Damien snapped. "When I found you at the cafe, you were white as a sheet." Aria bit her lip hard. She hadn't realized how much of her fear Damien had seen. "He just... brought up some old painful things, that's all." "What kind of things?" Damien pressed, tone sharp. "This 'past' of yours—I've been patient, Aria, but maybe it's time you finally tell me what you've been hiding." Her heart lurched. "I'm not hiding anything," she lied quickly, turning away. She couldn't look into those intense eyes and keep her composure. Instead, she turned her gaze aside, unable to meet his eyes. "It's nothing you need to worry about." "Like hell it's not," Damien growled. In two strides he closed the distance, grabbing her wrist. Not hard, but enough to make her meet his gaze. His face was inches from hers now, anger radiating off him. "I heard him say the name Lancaster. Who are you, Aria? What are you hiding?" Aria's blood ran cold. "I-I'm still me," she whispered, heart hammering. "I haven't changed." "Stop dodging. I don't care if you had a different name or life before," Damien ground out, loosening his grip but not letting go. "I care that you lied to me." She felt tears prick her eyes. "I'm not in danger," she insisted, voice small. "And neither is Noah. I promise." Damien searched her face, frustration and hurt clouding his features. "So you expect me to just forget what I saw? That my wife lied and snuck off to meet a man who clearly has you terrified?" Aria sagged. "What do you want me to say, Damien? I know I should have told you. I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn't want to drag you into my personal baggage." "You're my wife," he ground out. "Your baggage is mine too." A tear finally escaped Aria's eye. "Our marriage might be for Noah's sake. I know you never wanted messy complications like this." Damien fell silent at that, a muscle in his cheek ticking. He took a breath, visibly reining himself in. "If I didn't care about you, this wouldn't feel like such a betrayal, Aria," he said quietly. Her breath caught. He considered her secrecy a betrayal. That cut deeper than she expected. Before she could respond, a small voice drifted from the hallway. "Mommy? Daddy?" Both of them turned to see Noah standing in the archway to the living room, rubbing his eyes. He clutched his stuffed dinosaur, confusion and worry on his face. He must have woken from his nap. Aria hastily wiped her cheeks and forced a smile. "Noah, honey—did we wake you?" Noah padded closer, peering up at them. "You were fighting," he said, lower lip quivering. Damien was instantly on one knee before Noah, his anger vanishing behind a gentle smile. "Hey, buddy. Mommy and I were just talking a little loudly, that's all." Noah looked unconvinced. Aria knelt as well, sandwiching their son between them. "Everything's okay, sweetie," she assured softly. "Sometimes grown-ups just get upset, but it doesn't mean we're mad at each other. You know we both love you very much, right?" Noah's big brown eyes flicked between them. "You're not mad?" Damien smoothed a hand over Noah's rumpled hair. "Never at you, champ. And Mommy and I are alright. Promise." Noah studied them a moment longer, then nodded. "Can I have a snack now?" A shaky laugh escaped Aria. Leave it to a four-year-old to move on that quickly. "Of course, baby. Let's get you a snack." She started to rise, but Damien was already scooping Noah into his arms. "How about some fruit and cookies?" he suggested, carrying their son toward the kitchen as Noah cheered weakly. Damien glanced back at Aria, a flicker of regret in his eyes. She offered him a faint, grateful smile in return before following. In the kitchen, the atmosphere was markedly lighter. Damien set Noah on a stool and busied himself slicing up an apple, while Aria poured a small glass of milk. They worked in tandem, exchanging only brief glances. The tempest between them had been bottled for now, set aside by mutual unspoken agreement for Noah's sake. Soon Noah was munching happily, swinging his legs as he chattered about a cartoon. Aria and Damien listened, mustering smiles that became less forced by the minute. By the time Noah finished his snack, he was back to his bubbly self, and Aria's heart unclenched to see him so unfazed. When Noah trotted off to the living room with his dinosaur and a remaining cookie, an uneasy quiet fell between the adults. Aria leaned against the counter, tracing a pattern on the marble with her fingertip. "Thank you," she murmured, eyes downcast. "For handling that with Noah." Damien sighed, bracing his palms on the island across from her. "I never wanted him to see us like that." Aria dared a look up. The anger in his face had ebbed, leaving only weary resignation. The day's events had clearly taken a toll on them both. "We still need to settle this," he said quietly, returning to the issue at hand. Aria's stomach twisted. "I know." Damien studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "I meant what I said, Aria. I feel... betrayed," he admitted, voice strained. "But I can see you're not ready to tell me. I can't force you." Tears burned at Aria's eyes again. "I don't want to hurt you," she whispered. "Or Noah. That's why I—" "Even lies of omission hurt," he cut in, though gently. "I hope you understand that." Aria blinked back tears. Before she could attempt another apology, Damien straightened, rolling his tense shoulders as if rebuilding his walls. "In any case," he continued briskly, "tomorrow night is the Blackwood Foundation charity gala. Board members, investors—half the city's elite—will be there. As my wife, you're expected by my side." Her heart skipped. A public gala—swarming with people who might recognize her. She had hoped to avoid such functions, but clearly Damien had made up his mind. "This isn't optional," he added, firm but not unkind when she remained silent. "We need to present a united front. Especially now." Aria understood the layers beneath his words. Especially now—with cracks forming in their story, he wanted her close. She forced a nod. "Alright. I'll be ready." Damien nodded, accepting her compliance. "Good. I'll have a dress arranged for you and inform the driver of our schedule." With that, he turned to leave the kitchen. He paused only once, speaking without looking back. "We'll get through tomorrow. After that… we'll figure this out." When he was gone, Aria slumped against the counter, tears finally spilling over. Tomorrow night she would have to stand under society's microscope as Damien Blackwood's dutiful wife—all while praying her past stayed buried. One crisis had been averted today, but a bigger one loomed on the horizon. And this time, if her secret came out, it could cost her everything.