The following week blurred into late nights, back-to-back meetings, and a relentless stream of boardroom decisions. But no matter how many contracts Damien signed, or how many cities he flew across, his thoughts refused to stray from her. Aria had lodged herself into the deepest corner of his mind like a spark refusing to extinguish.
One evening, the city lights spread beneath his office window like constellations. Damien loosened his tie, exhaustion written on his face, when his phone buzzed.
Dinner tonight? I'm free after eight.
It was Aria.
A smile tugged at his lips. He hadn't realized how much he had been waiting for her to make the first move.
–––
They met at an intimate rooftop restaurant, one shielded by ivy-covered walls and candlelit lanterns. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the warmth of summer, but it was her presence across the table that made the night electric.
She wore a silky navy dress, one that glimmered faintly under the lanterns, its neckline daring yet graceful. Her laugh was softer tonight, more personal, less guarded.
"Damien," she said after a sip of wine, "you're not what I expected."
"And what did you expect?" he asked, voice low, teasing.
"A ruthless billionaire with no time for anything human," she admitted, biting her lip as though she'd revealed too much.
He leaned closer, his gaze fixed on her mouth. "And what am I then?"
Her breath caught, but her answer came softly: "Dangerous. In a way that makes it impossible to walk away."
The silence that followed was thick, charged, unbearable. Finally, he reached across the table, his hand brushing hers. It was the briefest touch, yet it ignited a storm neither could deny.
–––
Hours later, their restraint unraveled.
Back at his penthouse, the city stretched endlessly beyond glass walls, but neither of them noticed. Her back pressed against the door the second it closed, his lips claiming hers in a kiss that was fierce, hungry, aching from weeks of unspoken desire.
Her dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling to the floor, while his hands traced the lines of her body as though memorizing every inch. She gasped his name, a sound that sent fire racing through his veins.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered against her throat, his voice ragged, though his body trembled with the effort to hold back.
But Aria's hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, her eyes burning with the same desperate hunger. "Don't you dare."
What followed was not merely passion—it was surrender. A night where the world outside ceased to exist, where two souls collided in fire, silk sheets, and whispered confessions only lovers could understand.
By the time dawn painted the sky in pale gold, she lay curled against his chest, his arm around her as though protecting something fragile yet irreplaceable.
Neither of them said the word love—but in the silence, in the way they breathed each other's air, it was already there.