The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 127: Chapter 127 Was I in love?

Aria’s POV

I was still smiling when I walked into the office.

I couldn’t help it. My face felt like it was stuck that way.

Damian had cooked me breakfast. Driven me to work. Held my hand the entire way like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And the way he’d looked at me—like I was the only thing that mattered—made my chest feel warm and fluttery in a way I wasn’t used to.

I stopped by the break room and ordered coffee for everyone—my treat.

When I walked into the conference room for our morning meeting, Diana raised an eyebrow.

"Someone’s in a good mood."

I tried to play it cool. "Am I?"

"You’ve been grinning like an idiot since you walked in," Leo said, smirking. "What happened? Did you win the lottery?"

"Better," Jennifer teased. "She got laid."

My face went hot. "I did not—"

"Oh my God, you totally did!" Diana clapped her hands together. "Look at her face!"

Kyle laughed. "Damn, Aria. Good for you."

I buried my face in my hands, mortified. "Can we please just focus on work?"

"Not a chance," Lucas said, leaning forward with a wicked grin. "Spill. Was it Damian?"

I didn’t answer.

Which was answer enough.

They all erupted into laughter and cheers, and I wanted to disappear into the floor.

After the meeting, we went out for lunch—my treat again. I took them to a Michelin-starred restaurant, and they didn’t stop teasing me the entire time.

"So," Diana said, sipping her wine. "When’s the wedding?"

I nearly choked on my water. "What?"

"Come on, Aria," Lucas said. "You’re glowing. You’re happy. And Damian Blackwood doesn’t strike me as the type to mess around. If he’s with you, he’s serious."

"We’re... taking things slow," I said weakly.

"Slow?" Kyle scoffed. "Babe, you’re practically radiating ’I’m in love’ energy. Just admit it."

I bit my lip, my heart doing that stupid fluttery thing again.

Was I in love?

Maybe.

Probably.

Okay, definitely.

But saying it out loud felt terrifying.

"He hasn’t brought it up yet," I said quietly. "The whole... marriage thing.Not since I turned him down last time."

"What?" Several voices exclaimed at once. "You actually rejected the Alpha King’s proposal?"

I shrugged. "I wouldn’t really call it a proposal. There was no ceremony, no grand gesture..."

Diana waved a hand dismissively. "Details. He will. Trust me. That man is obsessed with you."

I wanted to believe her.

But part of me was still scared.

What if I wasn’t enough? What if he changed his mind?

What if—

My phone buzzed.

I glanced down and saw a message from Damian.

Damian:[Thinking about you.]

My heart skipped.

I smiled, typing back quickly.

Me:[Me too.]

Damian: [Good. So, do you miss it?]

Before I could reply, a new message came through. A photo.

My breath caught in my throat. His cock—thick, hard, the tip already glistening, his hand wrapped around the base.

The familiar veins, the curve of him, the memory of how he’d felt inside me this morning—stretching me open, filling me completely, his hips driving into mine as I gripped the sheets and bit back a scream.

My face burned. Heat pooled low in my belly, my thighs pressing together under the table.

I quickly flipped my phone over, hiding the screen, my cheeks on fire.

Diana noticed. "Let me guess. Lover boy?"

"Shut up," I muttered,"I need to use the restroom."

I already standing up, my phone clutched tightly in my hand.

I slipped out of the room and hurried down the hallway, my heart pounding. The moment I locked the bathroom door behind me, I leaned against it, exhaling shakily.

My reflection in the mirror was flushed, eyes bright, lips still slightly swollen from his kiss this morning.

I looked at my phone again. That picture. God.

I pressed the call button before I could talk myself out of it.

He picked up on the second ring. "Missing me already?"

"Are you insane?" I hissed, keeping my voice low. "I’m in the middle of a team dinner. What if someone saw that?"

A pause. Then, softer: "Shit. Really? I didn’t know. I’m sorry."

But he didn’t sound sorry. There was that smug edge in his voice, like he knew exactly what he’d done and he’d do it again.

"You’re not sorry at all," I accused.

A low, dark laugh rumbled through the speaker. "You’re right. I’m not."

"Asshole."

"Where are you now?"

"In the bathroom."

"Yeah?" His voice dropped, rough and intimate. "Door locked?"

I swallowed. "...Yes."

Oh God, what was he planning? It couldn’t be what I was thinking, could it?