At the very last second, Aria pivoted so aggressively on her five-inch Louboutins that she nearly snapped her own ankle. She power-walked straight toward a passing waiter with a tray of champagne.
"Excuse me, where is the restroom?" Aria asked tightly.
"Down the hall to the right, Ma'am," the waiter pointed.
"Thanks," Aria muttered, practically sprinting out of the auction hall.
From his seat in the VIP section, Damien's eyes never left her.
He watched the entire interaction. He watched her nearly twist her ankle trying to avoid coming near him. Even in a room full of the world's most powerful people, his entire universe was restricted to the sway of her hips in that black glittery dress. She looked devastatingly beautiful. He missed her so much it felt like a physical ache in his ribs.
"Hello, Damien."
Vittoria Rossi stopped at the edge of the velvet rope, offering him a warm, elegant smile. "It has been a while."
