Bound by One Night

Aria slipped through the front door of the mansion shortly after midnight, exhausted to her bones. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and break down in private. Maybe, by some grace, Damien would still be out or fast asleep. She could postpone the inevitable confrontation—at least for tonight.

The house was hushed and dark. She eased the door closed and tiptoed through the foyer, heart pounding. Just a few more steps to the staircase—

A lamp clicked on in the living room, throwing amber light into the hall. Aria froze.

Damien sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees. He had changed out of his suit into a black sweater and slacks, but nothing about his posture was relaxed. He looked up at her, and the intensity of his gaze rooted her in place.

"You're home," he said quietly. His voice was calm—dangerously calm.

Aria forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "I... didn't realize you'd still be up. I'm sorry if I worried you."

Damien slowly rose to his feet. In the low light, his face was all hard lines and shadows. "Where were you?" The question was simple, but an undercurrent in his tone raised the hairs on Aria's neck.

Keep it together. Stick to the story. "I just went out for some fresh air," she lied. "I couldn't sleep and I—"

"Try again," Damien cut in, voice still eerily controlled. He took a measured step toward her. "And this time, the truth."

Aria's pulse skyrocketed. He knew. Or at least, he knew something. She opened her mouth, then closed it, panic rising. "Damien, I..."

He stopped in front of her, arms crossing over his chest. "You snuck out in the middle of the night, alone, without a word. Why?"

Aria's mind raced. If she admitted the truth about Victor, she'd have to divulge everything. Yet one look at Damien's face told her any half-truths now would only make things worse. Still, the habit of secrecy was hard to break. "It's complicated," she whispered. "I... had to meet someone."

The flash of pain and anger in Damien's eyes cut her to the core. His jaw clenched. "I see."

"It's not what you think," Aria added quickly, reaching out a hand. "It wasn't—"

He recoiled from her touch as if burned. "Not what I think?" he echoed, a harsh scoff escaping. "So you weren't meeting a man in secret?"

Aria felt the blood drain from her face. "How did you—?"

Her reaction must have confirmed it. Damien raked a hand through his hair, pacing a tight line. When he faced her again, his composure was fraying. "Who is he, Aria? The man at the pier."

The floor tilted beneath her. He had followed her—he'd been there. A mixture of relief and dread flooded her; she wasn't alone in this anymore, but now Damien's fury was unleashed.

She swallowed, throat dry. "His name is Victor," she said carefully. "Victor Lancaster."

Something flickered across Damien's face—recognition. Of course he'd know that name now; between the gossip and his own inquiries, he might have discovered her past.

"My former..." The word stuck in her throat. "I was engaged to him, a long time ago."

Damien's eyes narrowed. "Your fiancé," he said flatly, as if testing the taste of the word. "The one from the rumors. And you thought not to mention that to me."

Aria's stomach churned. "It was over long before I met you. I didn't think it mattered—"

"Didn't matter?" His voice rose, disbelief sharpening it. "The fact that you had a wealthy fiancé, that you disappeared and changed your name—none of that mattered enough to tell your husband?"

Aria flinched at the bitterness in his tone. "Our marriage... it started as a contract," she protested weakly. "I never expected you to care about my personal history."

Damien let out a short, cold laugh. "A contract. Right." He shook his head. "And here I was starting to think it had become more than that."

"It has," Aria insisted, eyes stinging with sudden tears. "Damien, please. I didn't want to burden you with my past. I thought I could fix it alone—"

"Handle it," Damien corrected, temper finally snapping. "Is that what you call sneaking around behind my back to meet the man who's been tormenting you?!" His voice thundered through the quiet house, his mask of calm utterly shattered. "God, Aria, do you have any idea what was going through my head tonight?"

Aria shrank back, tears spilling over now. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I was trying to protect you. To protect Noah."

"By lying to me?" He took a step forward, and she retreated until her back hit the wall. "Do you know what it felt like to watch you with him? To hear pieces of a conversation I was never meant to hear?"

She shook her head, a sob catching in her throat. "I—I was going to tell you everything, I swear. I just... I thought I could fix it on my own."

Damien's chest heaved with ragged breaths. He stared at her, hurt and anger warring in his expression. "You don't trust me," he said, quieter now but no less anguished. "After everything, you still don't trust me."

"That's not true," Aria whispered. "I was afraid—"

"Afraid of me?" The raw hurt in his voice was like a knife.

"No!" Aria pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her, as if she could disappear into it. "Afraid of losing you. Of losing this." A sob hitched out of her. "You have to understand... Victor threatened to ruin everything—"

"So you decided to deal with him on your own and lie to my face about it," Damien finished, bitterness lacing every word. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and for the first time she noticed it tremble. "Damn it, Aria. Do you think I can't protect my own family? That I wouldn't tear apart anyone who tried to hurt you or Noah?"

Aria's heart cracked at the agony in his tone. "I was trying to keep you safe," she cried. "He said if I told you, he'd—"

"—he'd what? Reveal your secrets?" Damien's eyes bore into hers. "It's too late for that. I know about the Lancasters. I know you vanished four years ago in scandal. And I know that man is blackmailing you with it."

Aria's breath hitched. He knew so much... and yet not everything. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes. He's blackmailing me."

"For money?" Damien nearly spat.

She hesitated only a second. "Yes."

"How much?"

"Two million," she whispered.

A muscle in Damien's jaw jumped. "Of course. And you were actually considering paying him off by yourself."

"I thought I could make it go away," she said softly. "I didn't want to drag you into my mess."

Damien closed his eyes briefly, as if in pain. "It stopped being just your mess the day we married. Hell, the moment Noah was born. Did you think I'd let you shoulder this alone? What do you take me for?"

Fresh tears flowed down Aria's cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said again, voice breaking. "I was wrong. I should have told you everything from the start. I was just... so scared."

Her anguish hung in the air between them. Damien stayed rigid, hands clenched at his sides. When he opened his eyes, they glistened with anger and hurt. "You were scared..." he echoed, tone hollow. "And what about me? Do you realize how scared I was tonight when I followed you—wondering what danger you were walking into, or what you were keeping from me?"

Aria covered her face, hot shame and sorrow crashing over her. "I'm sorry," she whispered for the third time, each apology more feeble.

An awful silence fell. Damien looked away, throat working. "I don't know what hurts more," he said at last, voice rough, "that you didn't trust me enough to tell me, or that you think so little of what we have that you'd rather face the devil alone than ask for my help."

His words lanced through her. Aria pushed off the wall and took a tentative step toward him. "I was wrong," she repeated, trembling. "Please, Damien... you have to know, these past months, I—" Her voice faltered. She wanted to say it, to tell him how much he meant to her, how this marriage had become everything. But the words tangled in her throat, choked by guilt and fear.

He watched her struggle, eyes unbearably sad. When she fell silent, he gave a small, defeated nod. "Right. It's late," he muttered, the fight draining from his tone. "We should... get some sleep."

Sleep? The abrupt shift left Aria reeling. Damien turned away, as if he couldn't bear to look at her.

He made it two steps before Aria, desperate, reached out and caught his hand. "Please don't walk away," she begged, her voice cracking. "Not like this."

For a moment, he stood with his back to her, her fingers curled around his. She felt him squeeze her hand—once—before he gently pried free.

"Good night, Aria," Damien said quietly, without turning around.

Aria's hand fell to her side as he ascended the stairs, his figure soon swallowed by darkness. The soft echo of his footsteps vanished down the hallway, and then she was alone with the quiet and her mistakes.

She sank to the cold foyer floor, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs threatening to overwhelm her. In the stillness of the night, Aria realized that the cracks in her world—the ones that began at the gala—had widened into a chasm between her and the man she loved.

And she had never felt more helpless to bridge it.