Chapter 122: Chapter 121: The Choice
DAMIEN’S POV - 3:28 PM
’’But he wasn’t waiting that long.’’
Damien picked up his phone, his hand steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. He scrolled to her contact...not the office extension, but her personal cell....and pressed call.
It rang once. Twice.
"Hello?" Her voice was cautious, guarded.
"Come to my office." His voice was softer than usual, lacking the commanding edge she was used to. "Please."
There was a pause. "Damien...."
"Not the main office. The lounge. Just....please. Come talk to me."
Another pause, longer this time. He could almost hear her thinking, weighing, deciding.
"Okay," she finally whispered. "I’m coming."
The line went dead.
Damien stood, straightened his tie, and walked into his private lounge....the small room attached to his office. It had a couch, a small refrigerator, a private bathroom. A place for him to decompress between meetings or change clothes before evening events.
A place where, months ago, he’d brought Aria lunch when she was still his maid. Where he’d nearly taken her virginity on that very couch before pulling back at the last moment.
Where he’d made her ride his fingers while he sucked her breasts until she came apart in his arms.
The memories flooded back, and he sat down on the couch, trying to organize his thoughts. Trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said.
How to explain that she’d unlocked something in him. That watching her on that rooftop had broken through his last defenses. That her ultimatum had forced him to face the truth he’d been avoiding.
He loved her. Completely. Desperately. In a way that terrified him but also made him feel more alive than he’d felt in years.
And it was time to stop fighting it.
******
ARIA’S POV - 3:32 PM
Aria stood outside Damien’s office, her hand trembling as she reached for the door handle.
He’d called. Not texted. Called her and asked....not commanded, asked....her to come to his lounge.
Relief had flooded through her when she’d heard his voice. Relief that he was willing to talk, that he hadn’t just let her walk away.
But terror came right behind it.
What if he’d called her in to tell her it was over? What if he’d decided the ultimatum was the final straw? What if he was going to ask her to leave, to resign, to disappear from his life completely?
What if I just ruined everything?
She took a breath, steadied herself, and opened the door.
The main office was empty. But the door to his private lounge stood open, light spilling out.
She walked toward it, each step feeling like walking toward either salvation or execution.
When she stepped through the doorway, memories slammed into her with physical force.
This room. This couch where he sat now, watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes.
She’d been here before. Had brought him lunch when she was still pretending to be Sarah the maid. Had thought it would be a simple delivery.
Instead, he’d pulled her into the bathroom. Had kissed her until she couldn’t think. Had made her give him a blowjob that left them both shaking. Had nearly....so nearly.....taken her virginity right there before pulling back with a restraint that had left her aching and confused.
"Not yet," he’d said. "When I take you for the first time, it won’t be rushed. Won’t be on a couch in my office. You deserve better than that."
And then, later, after everything had exploded....he’d brought her here again. Had made her ride his fingers while he sucked her breasts with a hunger that felt like he was trying to draw milk from her body. Had made her come so hard she’d seen stars.
Now, standing here again, remembering all of it....her body responded immediately. Heat pooled between her thighs. Her nipples tightened. Her breath came faster.
Damien’s eyes tracked every change in her expression, and a small, wicked smile curved his lips. He knew. Of course he knew. He always knew what his proximity, his presence, his memories did to her.
"Close the door," he said quietly.
She did, the soft click sounding impossibly loud.
"Come here. Sit beside me."
She crossed the room on trembling legs and sat on the couch, careful to leave a few inches between them. Professional distance, even now.
He turned to face her, and she braced herself for whatever was coming.
"I watched the security footage," he said without preamble. "Saw Victoria cornering you in the lobby. Saw you go to the roof afterward."
Her face flushed. "You were watching me?"
"I needed to understand what happened. Why you came to my office like that." His eyes searched hers. "What did she say to you, Aria? What did she tell you that sent you to the roof?"
"It doesn’t matter...."
"It matters to me."
She looked down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. "She said....she said your grandfather has approved her as your future wife. That a Blackwood-Ashford marriage is already planned. That I’m just a phase you’re working through and when Richard comes home, you’ll choose the appropriate match."
Damien’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.
"She said I don’t belong in your world. That I’m nobody. Replaceable. Out of my depth." Aria’s voice cracked slightly. "She told me to walk away now. To find someone from my own class, my own level. To save myself the humiliation."
"And you believed her?"
"I...." Aria looked up, met his eyes. "Part of me did. Because isn’t she right? I don’t belong in this world, Damien. I’m a former maid who lied her way into your life. I have no family name, no connections, no social standing. What business do I have thinking I can survive in your world?"
"Stop." His hand shot out, gripped her chin gently but firmly. "Don’t let her poison get in your head. Don’t let her make you feel small."
"But she’s not wrong...."
"She is wrong. About everything." His thumb stroked her cheek. "Yes, my grandfather and Harold Ashford have discussed a potential alliance. But I never agreed to it. Never gave them any indication I was interested in Victoria. And when my grandfather called me yesterday, I told him there was someone else. Someone important. Someone I’m...." He paused, the word catching in his throat. "Someone I’m in love with."
Aria’s breath stopped. "What?"
"I told him about you. Not everything...not the full story of how we met, because that’s complicated and requires more than a phone conversation to explain. But I told him there’s a woman I’m trying to trust again. A woman who hurt me but who I can’t seem to let go of. A woman who matters."
Tears pricked her eyes. "Damien...."
"And you’re right. I have been keeping you in limbo. Using control and dominance as a shield. Claiming your body while protecting my heart." He shifted closer, his hand moving to cup her face. "But watching you on that roof....seeing you stand there alone, seeing you fight your own battle, seeing you come back stronger....something broke open in me."
"What broke?"
"The fear. The need to protect myself at all costs. The burden of unforgiveness I’ve been carrying." His eyes were raw, vulnerable in a way she’d never seen. "I need to tell you something. About why I’ve found it so hard to trust you. Why forgiveness has been nearly impossible."
"Okay." She covered his hand with hers, anchoring him.
He took a breath, and when he spoke, his voice was rough with old pain. "My mother died a couple of years ago. Cancer. She’d been sick for two years, but I didn’t know. She hid it from me. From everyone."
Aria’s heart clenched. "Oh, Damien...."
"She didn’t want to burden me. Didn’t want to disrupt my life while I was at university. So she suffered in silence, got sicker and sicker, and by the time she finally told me..." His voice cracked. "By the time she finally told me, it was too late. Stage four. Inoperable. She had three months."
"I’m so sorry." The words felt inadequate, but she said them anyway.
"For two years, she lied to me. Told me everything was fine when it wasn’t.
Pretended she was healthy when she was dying. And when she finally told me the truth, I felt...." He struggled for words. "Betrayed. Angry. Devastated. Like she’d robbed me of the chance to say goodbye properly. To spend those two years with her instead of away at school."
Understanding crashed over Aria. "And then I did the same thing. Lied about who I was. Pretended everything was fine when it wasn’t. Hid the truth until it was almost too late."
"Yes." He pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. "Logically, I know it’s different. Your mother lived. You had reasons. But emotionally....it triggered everything I felt when my mother died. The betrayal. The anger. The feeling that someone I loved had lied to me about something fundamental."
Tears were streaming down Aria’s face now. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t know....I never meant to...."
"I know. I know you didn’t." His hands framed her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears. "But I’ve been punishing you for my mother’s choices as much as your own. I’ve been so terrified of being lied to again, of being hurt again, that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me."
"What’s that?"
"That you’re not my mother. That your situation was different. That you’ve apologized and submitted and proven yourself over and over." His voice dropped to a whisper. "That I’ve been so busy protecting myself that I’ve been hurting us both."
"Damien...." She could barely speak through the tears.
