Bound by One Night

That evening, Aria donned the midnight-blue silk gown Damien had sent over. A stylist swept her hair up elegantly and clasped a delicate diamond necklace at her throat as the finishing touch.

When Aria descended the staircase, Damien looked up from adjusting his cuff. His dark eyes widened as she approached.

"You look... stunning," he managed at last.

A blush warmed Aria's cheeks. She hadn't expected such an open compliment. "Thank you," she murmured. "The dress is beautiful."

Damien cleared his throat. "The car is ready. Shall we?"

He offered his arm, and Aria placed her hand lightly in the crook of his elbow. The gesture felt oddly intimate given the icy distance of the previous day. But tonight they had a part to play.

During the drive to the hotel ballroom, Damien was quiet. Aria's stomach fluttered with nerves as she gazed at the passing city lights. Once or twice, she felt Damien's hand cover hers in silent reassurance. Each time, her heart skipped, and she wondered if he could feel it racing.

"Remember, we present a united front," Damien said softly as their limousine joined the queue of luxury cars at the venue's entrance.

Aria nodded. "Of course."

They stepped out under a barrage of camera flashes. Damien kept a protective arm around Aria and guided her along the red carpet, offering the press only a polite smile and no comment as questions flew.

Inside, the ballroom was a glittering sea of evening gowns and sharp suits. Crystal chandeliers bathed the crowd in golden light. Waiters circulated with champagne, and a gentle hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by occasional warm laughter.

Aria clung tighter to Damien's arm as they entered. Damien fell into conversation with a couple of board members, and Aria answered a few polite questions. She was conscious of the curious eyes appraising her, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Excusing herself for a moment of air, she drifted toward the edge of the crowd—only to have another guest slide smoothly into place beside her.

"Well, I finally get to meet the mystery wife," purred a female voice.

Aria turned to find herself face to face with a statuesque blonde. The woman's red lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her sharp blue eyes. She wore a silver gown and exuded easy confidence.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," Aria said politely, though a sinking feeling told her who this might be.

"Victoria Hale," the blonde introduced herself, offering a manicured hand. Aria shook it, noting the coolness of her skin. "Our families have been friends for ages. I've known Damien since we were practically children." Victoria's gaze flicked over Aria from head to toe.

"How kind of you," Aria replied, keeping her smile in place. "It's nice to meet you, Victoria."

Victoria's eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching for cracks in Aria's façade. "Tell me, how did you and Damien meet? He's been so tight-lipped and we're all simply dying of curiosity."

Aria's pulse sped up. They had rehearsed a simple answer: they'd met through mutual acquaintances and reconnected unexpectedly, leading to a whirlwind romance. It was half-true at best, but better than admitting the real origin of their relationship.

Before Aria could recite the prepared story, Damien's hand settled at the small of her back. He had finished his conversation and clearly caught Victoria's probing question. "Victoria," he said with a cordial nod that didn't reach his eyes, "so good to see you."

"Damien." Victoria's smile brightened as she turned to him, subtly straightening to draw attention to her figure. "You've been a stranger. I hardly knew you were in town until tonight."

"I've been occupied," Damien replied evenly, keeping his hand at Aria's back. "Managing a new marriage and a company at once tends to fill one's schedule."

Victoria chuckled lightly. "Of course. I do hope you haven't forgotten your old friends in the process."

"Not at all," Damien said, though his tone was perfunctory. "Aria, darling, have you tried the champagne? Allow me." He smoothly changed the subject, signaling a waiter and procuring two flutes. He handed one to Aria, meeting her eyes with a hint of concern, as if to ask, Are you alright?

Aria accepted the champagne and mustered a grateful smile. Victoria's presence—clearly that of a former hopeful or at least an overcurious acquaintance—had set her on edge, but Damien's subtle reassurance steadied her nerves.

Victoria, however, wasn't done. "So, Aria," she continued, undeterred, "where are you from? I can't quite place your last name. Lancaster, was it?"

Aria's stomach plummeted. Lancaster. Hearing her maiden name in this crowd was a jolt of electricity. She froze for an instant, fingers tightening around her glass.

Damien's brow creased. "Lancaster?" he echoed, looking between the two women.

Aria recovered fast. She let out a light laugh, as if amused. "Oh, no—my maiden name is Lambert," she lied smoothly. "Common mistake. I get Lancaster or Langford sometimes. Similar first syllable."

Victoria's brows lifted, a flicker of disappointment in her icy gaze at Aria's quick save. "Ah, my mistake," she purred, all apologetic innocence. "Lambert, of course."

Damien's hand pressed a touch more firmly against Aria's back, a subtle sign of support—or tension. "Aria's originally from upstate," he interjected, covering gracefully. "We met in New York through mutual friends."

"Is that so?" Victoria responded with a thin smile. "How lovely."

Before she could pry further, another couple approached to greet Damien, pulling his attention away. Victoria gave Aria one last look—suspicion and hostility barely hidden—before excusing herself with a tight smile.

Aria exhaled slowly, only then realizing how stiffly she'd been holding herself. She hadn't expected to be confronted with her old name so directly. It was sheer luck she'd managed a plausible lie on the spot.

"Lambert?" Damien queried under his breath as he guided her toward a quieter corner. To onlookers, they appeared to be a doting couple stepping aside for a private word.

Aria's heart thudded. Damien clearly noticed the inconsistency. She gave a tiny, helpless shrug. "It's my mother's maiden name," she whispered, offering at least a sliver of truth. "I—I panicked. I'm sorry."

His eyes searched hers, concern mingled with a trace of confusion. But he simply nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's alright," he said gently. Still, Aria knew this moment would not be forgotten.

They didn't linger much longer. Within half an hour, Damien had made the necessary rounds and cited Aria's fatigue as a reason to depart early. Soon they were back in the limousine, leaving the gala's glitter and gossip behind.

As the car pulled away, Aria released a breath and sank against the seat. Relief and dread warred within her. They had survived the event—barely. But the close call with Victoria had shaken loose pieces of the truth Aria had long kept buried.

Damien was quiet beside her, his face unreadable in the blur of city lights. His hand remained around hers, warm and steady, but she could sense the questions coiled beneath his calm exterior.

Aria's mind raced. She knew the reprieve was temporary. Very soon, she would have to lay everything out in the open—the past she had fled, the secrets she feared would change everything. Her heart pounded at the thought.

Damien was quiet for a long moment. At last, he spoke softly: "We'll talk when we get home, Aria."

Her heart thudded. "Alright," she whispered.

As she stared out at the city lights flickering past, Aria realized the hardest part of the night still lay ahead. The walls of secrecy between them were crumbling—and once they reached home, she would have to face the truth she'd been running from for so long.