The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 73: Chapter 73 Unexpected Calls

Aria’s POV

The hotel room door clicked shut behind me, and I finally allowed myself to breathe.

V&A Hotels—one of Dad’s legacy properties.

I barely made it to the cream-colored sofa before my legs gave out completely.

The adrenaline that had carried me through the confrontation was gone, leaving behind a hollow ache that seemed to radiate from my very bones.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to stop the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

*God, I was so tired of crying.*

I’d spent two years with Ethan learning to suppress every emotion, to present a perfect, unshakeable facade.

And now, in the span of a few weeks, Damian Blackwood had somehow managed to shatter every defense I’d spent years constructing.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table where I’d tossed it, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.

I almost ignored it—I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, least of all if it was Damian trying to—

Rachel’s name flashed across the screen.

I stared at it for a long moment, debating whether I had the energy for this conversation. But a distraction from my spiraling thoughts might be exactly what I needed.

I swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Aria! Oh my God, I’ve been dying to call you!" Rachel’s voice was bright with excitement, such a stark contrast to my current emotional state that it almost hurt.

"I had to wait until we wrapped everything up officially, but I just—I needed to thank you properly. That V&A Group’s project you sent our way? It saved us. Like, legitimately saved our entire quarter."

Despite everything, I felt a small smile tug at my lips. "I’m glad it worked out. Your team did incredible work on the portfolio analysis. You earned it."

"Still, you didn’t have to throw us that bone. Especially not one that lucrative." There was genuine gratitude in her voice.

"So I was thinking—I’m actually flying out to your city tomorrow to take you to dinner. My treat. It’s the least I can do."

"That’s really sweet, Rachel, but I’m not in the city right now."

"Oh?" Her tone shifted to curious. "Business trip?"

"Something like that." I leaned back against the sofa, pressing my free hand against my forehead.

"I’m in the capital."

"Wait, seriously?" The excitement was back in full force. "That’s perfect! I was supposed to fly there after visiting you anyway."

We just secured a potential client there—a boutique hotel chain looking to expand. So now I can skip the layover and come straight to you!"

I should have said no. Should have made some excuse about being busy with family matters or pack politics or literally anything that would give me the space I so desperately needed.

But the thought of sitting alone in this massive suite, replaying every moment of that hospital confrontation on an endless loop?

"Okay," I heard myself say. "Sounds good."

"Yes! Oh, this is going to be amazing. I know this incredible wine bar in the financial district—they have this Bordeaux that will change your life. Let’s say 12 o’clock?"

"12 works."

"Perfect! I’ll text you the address. And Aria?" Rachel’s voice softened slightly. "Thanks for saying yes. I promise this will be fun. You sound like you could use some fun."

Was I that transparent? Even over the phone?

"Yeah," I admitted quietly. "I probably could."

We said our goodbyes, and I let the phone drop back onto the coffee table. The suite fell silent again, just me and the city lights and the thoughts I was trying so desperately to outrun.

My stomach chose that moment to emit a loud, prolonged growl.

I blinked, suddenly aware of the hollow ache in my abdomen that had nothing to do with emotional turmoil.

When was the last time I’d eaten?

There’d been some kind of celebration brunch after the presentation this morning—God, was that really just this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago.

Then the frantic drive to the airport. Eight hours on the plane where I’d been too anxious to even think about food. The confrontation at the hospital...

No wonder I felt like I was about to pass out.

I was debating whether I had the energy to order room service when a sharp knock echoed through the suite.

I froze. It was nearly ten o’clock. Who the hell would be at my door?