The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 120: Chapter 120 Open the door, Aria

Aria’s POV

I got home earlier than usual today. By the time I’d showered and changed, it was barely eight o’clock.

I’d stopped by the grocery store on impulse and picked up ingredients for a proper meal.

Originally, I’d planned to invite Damian over for dinner.

But when we talked on the phone earlier, he told me he’d flown to the capital for meetings this afternoon and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Fine. If he couldn’t make it, I’d cook something nice just for myself. I deserved it after the day I’d had.

I made several dishes—small, refined plates that paired beautifully with a drink. Which reminded me... I mixed myself a cocktail, something strong and blue.

The exact same shade as the one I’d made for Damian that night.

I took a sip. The taste was sharp, biting in all the right ways. But the flavor wasn’t what lingered in my mind.

It was the memory of him leaning against the counter beside me, watching me work with that unreadable intensity in his eyes.

Damian had this reputation—cold, untouchable, terrifying even. The Alpha King who made grown wolves tremble with a single look.

But at home? He was... clingy. Unexpectedly so. Wherever I went, he followed.

Kitchen, living room, even when I just moved from one side of the couch to the other. Like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Not that I wanted to.

The first time I’d noticed it, I’d been making tea in the kitchen.

I’d moved to the living room to grab a book, and when I turned around, there he was—following me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When I’d teased him about it, he’d gotten this almost embarrassed look on his face, like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it.

It was endearing in a way that made my chest warm every time I thought about it.

By eleven, I’d dozed off on the couch without meaning to. The buzz from the cocktail had mellowed into drowsiness, and I’d curled up under a throw blanket.

My phone vibrated against the coffee table, jolting me awake.

"Hello?" I mumbled, pressing it to my ear without checking the screen.

"Did I wake you?"

Damian’s voice poured through the line like molten honey—low, rich, impossibly intimate.

I blinked a few times, sitting up slowly as the fog cleared from my head. "No... not really. I was just resting my eyes."

"Liar," he said softly, and I could hear the smile in his tone. "Your voice is still full of sleep."

I rubbed my face, trying to wake myself up properly. "Okay, fine. Maybe I dozed off for a minute. Are you done with your meetings?"

"Yeah. Finally." There was a pause, then his voice dropped even lower. "I missed you."

My entire body went still.

Heat flooded my cheeks instantly, spreading down my neck. My heart did this stupid fluttering thing.

"I... I missed you too," I whispered.

The words came out so quietly I wasn’t even sure he’d heard them.

I rushed to change the subject before he could say something that would make me combust entirely.

"I was going to cook dinner for us tonight, actually. I bought a bunch of ingredients earlier. But since you weren’t here, I didn’t bother making much."

"You were going to cook for me?" His voice turned warm, almost teasing. "If I’d known, I would’ve skipped the meeting entirely."

"No, don’t do that. Work is important. You can have a home-cooked meal anytime you want."

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and they felt... significant. Heavy in a way that made my chest tighten.

Because this wasn’t temporary anymore. We had time. We had a future.

I felt my lips curve into a smile I couldn’t suppress.

"Where are you right now?" Damian asked suddenly.

"At home."

"Where in your apartment?"

"The couch." I glanced around as if he could somehow see me. "Why?"

"What are you wearing?"

The question landed like a spark on dry kindling.

My face went *red*. Burning, mortifyingly red.

I looked down at myself—soft silk pajamas, short-sleeved and dangerously thin. The kind of thing I only wore when I was alone.

"Why are you asking me that?" I managed, my voice coming out embarrassingly flustered.

There was a beat of silence on his end. Then, in that devastatingly low tone that made my knees weak even when I was sitting down:

"Open the door, Aria. I want to see you. Right now."