Murmurs spread amongst the paparazzi as they stood, their cameras dangling by their sides as they stared at Damien.
I glanced at the small crowd gathering, intrigued by the drama, and pulled at Damien's shirt.
There were eyes around us—too many eyes, and Damien looking like he wanted to kill the guy wasn't doing any good.
I needed to do some damage control…and fast.
"Damien," I called softly.
He remained rooted in place, glaring at them. I guess it was up to me then.
I picked up the damaged camera and pulled Damien aside, giving it to the owner.
"I'm sorry about your camera," I said.
I reached for my purse and brought out my card. "Text me and we'll talk about compensating you."
The man nodded and took the card. I turned to the rest of the paparazzi.
"Go ahead. You can take your shots," I said.
It wasn't okay but I was playing the devil's advocate.
They slowly raised their arms, glancing at Damien anxiously.
"Aria," Damien called, tugging my arm.
