The next evening arrived quicker than Aria expected. In the grand bedroom she now occupied at the Blackwood estate, she stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her evening gown with trembling hands. The dress Damien had procured for her was exquisite: a midnight-blue satin that hugged her figure and brought out the golden tones in her skin. Its elegant off-shoulder neckline left her collarbones exposed, where her pulse fluttered visibly.
A knock at the door made her jump. "Aria? May I come in?" Damien's voice filtered through the wood.
Her heart gave an odd little leap. "Y-Yes, come in."
The door opened and Damien stepped inside, adjusting the cuff of his crisp charcoal suit. "I just –" He stopped short when he looked up and saw her. The words seemed to die on his tongue.
Aria felt heat rise to her cheeks under his unblinking stare. "Is... is everything okay?" she asked softly, self-conscious.
Damien blinked and cleared his throat, but his eyes never left her. "Everything's... perfect," he said, voice unusually husky. "You look absolutely stunning, Aria."
A shy smile found her lips. Coming from him, dressed as impeccably as he was – broad shoulders filling out his tailored suit jacket, his hair artfully tousled – the compliment made her stomach flutter. "Thank you. You look very handsome too." And he did – every bit the powerful, confident CEO... and tonight, he was hers.
He approached and offered his arm with a reassuring smile. "Shall we?"
She slipped her hand around his arm. "Let's do it."
The charity gala was already in full swing when they arrived at the downtown ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over elegantly dressed guests mingling and clinking champagne flutes. As soon as Damien escorted Aria through the grand entrance, dozens of eyes turned their way.
Instinctively, Aria's grip tightened on Damien's arm. He covered her hand with his free one briefly, a subtle gesture of support that steadied her nerves. With a polite smile affixed, she allowed him to guide her into the crowd.
"Damien! Good to see you," boomed a man in a tuxedo – an investor Aria faintly recognized from one of Damien's business luncheons. The man's gaze slid curiously to Aria. "And this must be the lovely Mrs. Blackwood."
"It is," Damien affirmed proudly. "Aria, this is Walter Cummings."
Aria mustered a gracious smile and shook the man's hand. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Ah, the pleasure is mine," Walter said. "Blackwood's been keeping you all to himself. We're all so curious about the woman who tamed our favorite bachelor." His tone was jovial, but Aria still flushed.
Damien smoothly intervened, a wry note in his voice. "I assure you, Walter, I needed no taming." He cast Aria a warm glance. "And if I did, I wouldn't mind in the least."
Walter let out a hearty laugh and, with a few more pleasantries, wandered off to the bar.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Damien murmured to Aria, leaning in.
She exhaled, realizing she'd been holding her breath. "The night is young," she murmured back. "Plenty of time for worse."
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Whatever happens, I'm right here."
They made their way through the crowd at a measured pace. Several more of Damien's associates greeted them politely, and Aria found that the initial rush of attention soon dulled to a background hum. With Damien's steady presence beside her, she managed to answer questions and exchange small talk without stumbling. Many eyes lingered on her with curiosity – no doubt some had read the recent gossip articles – but no one was so ill-mannered as to mention them outright.
At least, not at first.
They were paused near the champagne table when a lilting female voice broke into their conversation. "Damien, darling, aren't you going to introduce me?"
Aria turned to see a statuesque woman with cool grey eyes and impeccably styled hair. She rested one manicured hand on Damien's forearm in a gesture of familiarity that made Aria bristle internally.
Damien's smile thinned a fraction. "Good evening, Celeste," he said politely as he subtly extricated his arm from the woman's touch. "This is my wife, Aria. Aria, this is Celeste Duvall – she runs the Duvall Foundation that this gala benefits."
Celeste's red lips curved, though the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. "Ah yes, the new Mrs. Blackwood. What a delight." She extended her hand and Aria shook it, noting the faint trace of condescension in the woman's tone.
"It's nice to meet you," Aria said, keeping her voice pleasant.
Celeste tilted her head, gaze raking appraisingly over Aria's dress, her hair, then settling on her face with sharp curiosity. "The pleasure's mine. I must say, you're quite the topic lately. The society pages are buzzing about Blackwood's mystery bride."
Aria's stomach tensed. Was Celeste fishing for gossip about her origins? Before she could formulate a reply, Damien stepped in, his tone cool. "I'm afraid we don't pay much attention to gossip. Aria's presence speaks for itself – she's here by my side, exactly where she belongs."
Aria's heart fluttered gratefully at his firm words.
Celeste raised a thin eyebrow. "But of course. Still, one can't help but wonder what charms managed to snare our dear Damien so swiftly." Her eyes flicked to Aria. "You must tell me where you're from, my dear. Were you involved in our city's social circles before? I can't recall ever seeing you at events."
Aria felt the question like a needle under her skin. She kept her polite smile, though it strained. "I lived a very private life before," she answered carefully. "Small circle of friends. Nothing nearly as glamorous as this."
"Mmm." Celeste's lips pursed as if tasting something sour. "Well, one wouldn't know it. You carry yourself very well." The words could have been a compliment, but her tone made Aria suspect otherwise.
Damien's patience had clearly run thin. He slipped an arm firmly around Aria's waist – a move that both surprised and steadied her – and addressed Celeste with a bland smile. "If you'll excuse us, we were just about to take a turn around the room."
Celeste's eyes flicked to the possessive hold he had on Aria, and a flash of irritation crossed her features. "Of course," she simpered. "Enjoy your evening." She glided off to greet another donor, the air noticeably cooler in her wake.
Aria let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Damien's hand remained at her waist. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, swallowing the faint bitterness Celeste's words had left. "Yes. Thank you... for what you said."
He guided her away from the crowded area toward a quieter side of the ballroom. "I only told the truth," he murmured. "You belong here with me."
Aria looked up at him. The soft conviction in his voice did wonders to soothe her lingering unease. All around them, couples were moving onto the dance floor as a new song began – a slow, lilting melody.
Damien followed her gaze to the dancing pairs. "Would you like to?" he asked, a bit tentative for once. "Dance, I mean."
She answered by stepping closer and holding out her free hand to him. "I'd love to."
He took her hand and led her onto the polished wood floor. With practiced ease, one of his arms encircled her waist and the other held her hand aloft. Aria rested her free hand on his broad shoulder. The music swelled, and they began to move.
At first, they kept a proper distance, swaying in time under the golden lights. But as the minutes passed, the space between them slowly closed. Aria's skirt brushed against his legs; her heels occasionally bumped his polished shoes. Neither noticed. They were too intent on each other.
"You really do look incredible tonight," Damien murmured, gazing down at her. His eyes were dark and intent, sending a pleasant shiver through her.
Aria's cheeks warmed. "So do you. All the women here have been sneaking looks at you, you know."
He scoffed lightly. "Let them look. I only care about one woman's attention."
Her breath caught at the tenderness in his tone. She knew he could feel her pulse racing where her hand rested on his shoulder.
"Aria," he murmured, and she could hear the longing in the way he said her name.
They had stopped moving – she wasn't even sure when – but they still swayed slightly to the music. They stood so close that only a whisper of air remained between them. Damien's hand splayed against her lower back, daringly intimate, and Aria's body leaned into his with each breath.
Her eyes searched his face. He looked as though he wanted to say something more; his expression was unguarded in this moment. Over the violins of the orchestra, she thought she heard him begin, "I–" but she never heard the rest.
Before she could lose her nerve, Aria rose on her toes, closing the inches between them, and pressed her lips to his.
For a split second, Damien went still, as if shocked that she had been the one to bridge that final gap. Then, with a quiet groan, he cupped her face between his hands and kissed her back.
It was like melting and catching fire all at once. His lips were warm and sure, moving against hers in a tender, yearning rhythm that made her dizzy. Aria's hands curled into the lapels of his jacket, holding him close as if afraid this was a dream that might dissolve.
Dimly, she became aware that they were still on the dance floor. A few couples nearby were politely averting their eyes with knowing smiles. Clearing her head enough to recall their surroundings, Aria gently broke the kiss, her cheeks burning.
Damien didn't release her far. He kept his forehead lightly against hers, his breath coming a little unsteadily. His eyes were closed as if to savor the moment. "Aria," he whispered, the single word filled with wonder.
She realized she was trembling ever so slightly – whether from nerves or the sheer exhilaration of finally crossing that line between them, she wasn't sure. Perhaps both. She let out a shaky little laugh. "I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
He opened his eyes at that, silencing her with the brush of his thumb over her lower lip. "Don't apologize," he said, voice low and fervent. "I'm only sorry we didn't do that sooner."
Her heart soared. Unable to resist, she leaned into his touch. "Me too."
The sound of applause rose around them just then – apparently the end of the dance set. It startled Aria and Damien out of their private world. They stepped back reluctantly, both straightening up as reality seeped back in. Aria smoothed her dress with trembling fingers; Damien cleared his throat and adjusted his jacket.
"We, uh, we should probably..." Aria began, unsure what to say.
"Get some air?" Damien finished gently, a twinkle in his eye.
She nodded gratefully. "Yes. Please."
Damien kept his hand securely at the small of her back as he guided her off the dance floor and toward a set of French doors that led to a moonlit outdoor terrace. The cool night air caressed Aria's flushed skin as they stepped outside, and she inhaled deeply.
They were alone on the terrace, save for the faint sounds of music and laughter drifting through the doors behind them. Above, stars winked in the urban sky.
Aria turned to Damien, her heart brimming with so many emotions she hardly knew where to begin. Joy, relief, a hint of fear – if they acknowledged how much had changed between them, there was no going back. But she realized, as he looked at her with such open affection, that she didn't want to go back.
Before she could speak, Damien gently took her hands in his. His thumb stroked over her knuckles. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other under the silver light of the moon.
Finally, Damien broke the silence, voice tender and sure. "Whatever comes next – whatever anyone says or does – I want you to know that what I feel for you is real, Aria."
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but they were happy tears. She squeezed his hands. "I know," she whispered. "I feel it too. I..." She bit her lip, her next words daring to bubble up, but she wasn't sure if it was too soon to say them aloud. Instead, she settled on, "I'm here with you. And I'm not going anywhere either."
It was enough. His face lit with a smile that banished any lingering shadows of doubt. Slowly, he wrapped her in his arms, and she went willingly, resting her face against his chest. His steady heartbeat thudded under her ear.
They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other close in the quiet night. Aria closed her eyes, committing the feeling to memory – the warmth of his embrace, the scent of his cologne mixed with the spring air, the absolute certainty that this man cherished her.
When they finally drew apart, Damien pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "We should go back inside soon," he murmured, though his arms remained loosely around her waist.
Aria nodded, though part of her wanted to stay in this peaceful bubble a while longer. "Just another minute."
He chuckled. "As many as you want."
So they lingered, swaying gently together on the terrace as if still dancing to a song only they could hear.
Inside, the gala continued – music and chatter carrying on without them. Outside, under the stars, Aria and Damien stood entwined, oblivious to everything but each other. In that stolen moment, the future felt hopeful and entirely their own.
By the time they rejoined the party, their course was irrevocably changed. What had begun as a pretense had grown into unmistakable reality – and both Aria and Damien knew there was no turning back now.