The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 67

Chapter 67: Chapter 67: The Creep

Aria pov

"But if they do," I pressed on, forcing myself to meet his eyes. The hallway light cast shadows across his face. "Make sure Noah knows I loved him. That everything I did was for him."

"You’re going to tell him yourself," he insisted, his voice fierce and uncompromising. "Tomorrow morning, over pancakes with chocolate chips and whipped cream smiles. You’re going to tell him yourself."

"Promise me anyway," I whispered, my throat tight.

"Aria" he started, reaching for me.

"Promise me, Damien!" My voice cracked, echoing down the empty hallway.

"I promise," he said, pulling me into his arms. He crushed me against his chest, his heart pounding against my ear. "But you’re going to be fine. We both are. Because I’m not letting Marcus take you from me. Not now, not ever."

I let myself lean into him, borrowing his strength for just a moment. His cologne mixed with the scent of his skin, familiar and grounding.

"We should rest," I said against his shirt, feeling the soft fabric beneath my cheek. "Before tonight."

"I can’t rest," he admitted, his voice rumbling through his chest. His arms tightened around me. "Every time I close my eyes, I see you in danger. I see Noah crying. I see Marcus winning."

"Then stay with me," I said, the words tumbling out before I could think better of them. My fingers curled into his shirt. "Not for sex, not for anything complicated. Just... stay. So we’re not alone."

He pulled back to look at me, his hands sliding to my shoulders. "Are you sure?"

"No," I admitted, managing a shaky smile. My lips trembled. "But I’m doing it anyway."

We went into my room. Damien lay on top of the covers, fully dressed. I curled up beside him, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

His arms came around me, solid and warm.

"Thank you," he whispered into my hair. "For trusting me with this. For letting me hold you."

"Don’t make me regret it."

"Never again." His lips pressed against my forehead. "I swear, Aria. Never again."

We lay there in the afternoon light, two broken people stealing a moment of peace before walking into the storm.

And despite everything—the danger, the fear, the complicated mess of our feelings—I felt safe.

Maybe that was foolish. Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe I was setting myself up for more heartbreak.

But for now, in Damien’s arms with our son sleeping safely down the hall, I let myself believe.

Believe that we could survive tonight. That we could build something real from these broken pieces.

"Aria?" Damien’s voice was drowsy. "When this is over, when Marcus is caught and everyone’s safe—will you go on a real date with me?"

"A date?" I couldn’t help but smile. "We have a child together and you want to take me on a date?"

"We never had a real first date. A real courtship." His hand stroked through my hair. "I want to do it right this time. Take you to dinner, hold your hand, walk you to your door and ask if I can kiss you goodnight."

"You’re ridiculous."

"Is that a yes?"

I tilted my head up to look at him. "Ask me tomorrow. If we both survive."

"When we both survive," he corrected. "And I’m holding you to that."

"Deal."

We fell silent again.

"Damien?" I whispered.

"Mmm?"

"I’m scared."

"Me too." His arms tightened. "But we’re scared together. And that makes all the difference."

I closed my eyes, breathing him in, memorizing this moment.

The room was dim, only the faint glow from the hallway seeping under the door. His arms were still around me, warm and steady, but my heart wouldn’t slow. I didn’t want to think I just wanted to feel alive, right now, with him.

I shifted, turning so I straddled him. My hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt.

I leaned in and kissed him, he groaned softly against my mouth, but when my hands went to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, he caught my wrists. "Aria... no." His voice was rough, strained.

I kissed his jaw, his throat, grinding down against the hard length I could feel through his jeans. "I need you, Damien."

He exhaled shakily, hands gripping my hips like he was trying to hold me still. "You’re scared. We’re both scared. I’m not letting you hating yourself—or me—because we did this tonight. Not again. Not like last time, when you said I took advantage."

"I won’t," I whispered, nipping at his ear. "I’m choosing this. I want this."

I reached for his belt. He stopped me again, gentler this time, but firm.

"I got rid of everything," he said quietly. "All the condoms. Threw them out a few ago. I didn’t want any other misunderstanding."

I laughed, breathless. "I’m safe. In four days I’ll get my period. There’s no way I’ll get pregnant. And I swear, Damien—I will never blame you, I will never say you seduced me."

I woke to the buzz of my phone. Damien’s arm was still around me, his chest warm against my back. We’d fallen asleep after.

My phone buzzed again.

I reached for it on the nightstand, my body aching in all the right places. The screen lit up with a message from an unknown number.

Change of plans. No meeting tonight. Enjoy your last peaceful evening together. You’ll need it. I want you to live in fear, always waiting, never knowing when I’ll strike. That’s a far better punishment than a quick confrontation. Sweet dreams.

—Marcus

My blood turned to ice.

"Damien." I shook his shoulder. "Wake up."

He stirred, his voice rough with sleep. "What’s wrong?"

I showed him the message. Watched his eyes snap fully alert, the drowsiness vanishing.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, sitting up. The sheets pooled around his waist. "He’s playing with us."

"He wants us on edge." My hands were shaking. I pulled the blanket up to my chest. "Waiting. Wondering when he’ll actually make his move."

Damien grabbed his own phone from the other nightstand. He checked the time—9:30 PM. We’d slept for two hours. No missed calls, no alerts from security.

"This is worse than facing him," I said quietly. My throat felt tight. "At least tonight we would have had answers. Now we’re just... trapped in limbo."

"That’s exactly what he wants." Damien’s jaw clenched. He swung his legs out of bed and reached for his discarded shirt. "Keep us terrified. Keep us exhausted, wear us down mentally before he even makes a real move."

I watched him dress, my mind spinning. "How long will he make us wait?"

"I know his playbook." Damien turned to face me, buttoning his shirt with sharp, angry movements. "He did this when we were kids. Would tell me he was going to tell Father about something I’d done wrong, then wait days, sometimes weeks before actually doing it. The anticipation was worse than the punishment."

A chill ran down my spine. "What kind of person does that to a child?"

"The same kind who kidnaps his nephew to get revenge on his brother." Damien’s voice was bitter. He sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense. "Marcus doesn’t want quick vengeance, Aria. He wants us to suffer slowly."

My phone buzzed again. I flinched, grabbing it with trembling fingers.

Another message from Marcus: PS - I hope the sex was worth it. Letting your guard down like that. Quite the performance, by the way. Didn’t know you had it in you, Aria. Very... enthusiastic.

The phone slipped from my hands onto the bed.

No.

No, no, no.