Aria’s POV - That Evening
He smirked behind his coffee mug. "I only speak the truth."
"Uh huh." I tickled Noah until he squealed. "And what else does Daddy say?"
"That you’re beautiful when you smile." Noah giggled, wriggling away. "And that he’s lucky you don’t hate him anymore."
"Noah" Damien’s mug stopped halfway to his mouth.
"What?" Noah looked between us innocently. "You said that this morning, to Mrs Dora"
I bit back a smile. "Did he now?"
"Yes!" Noah bounced on my lap. "He said, ’Mrs. Dora, I’m the luckiest man alive because Aria doesn’t completely hate me anymore.’"
Damien set down his mug with deliberate care. The ceramic clicked against the granite counter. "That was a private conversation, buddy."
"But I was right there! You were making coffee and I was eating cookies"
"Which you weren’t supposed to have before breakfast," I interjected.
"Mrs. Dora said one cookie wouldn’t hurt!" Noah protested.
"Mrs. Dora is fired," Damien said dryly.
"Daddy!" Noah gasped. "You can’t fire Mrs. Dora! She makes the best cookies!"
"Then she needs to stop spoiling my son and telling him my secrets."
"I like your secrets." I couldn’t help myself. "They’re entertaining."
Damien’s eyes met mine, heated and intense. "I have more secrets. Want to hear them?"
"Not in front of Noah."
"Especially not in front of Noah," he agreed, his voice dropping lower.
The air between us shifted, charged with something that had nothing to do with the cartoon playing on TV. The room felt smaller suddenly. Warmer. I could smell his cologne—something woody and expensive.
Noah slid off my lap. "Mum, I am going to play with my trucks."
He scampered off to his room, leaving Damien and me alone in the too-large living room. The afternoon light slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Dust motes danced in the golden beams. Outside, I could hear the distant hum of traffic, the faint chirp of birds in the manicured garden.
I should move. Should maintain distance, should not notice the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest or how his jeans hung low on his hips.
"Stop looking at me like that," Damien said quietly.
"Like what?"
"Like you’re trying to decide whether to kiss me or kill me."
"Maybe both." I stood, needing to move, to do something with my hands but my palms were sweating. "In that order."
He laughed, low and rough."I’d die happy."
"Don’t tempt me." I headed toward the kitchen, the marble floor was cool under my bare feet. "I need wine, lots of wine."
"Long day?"
"You could say that." I pulled a bottle from his absurdly well-stocked wine fridge. The glass was cold against my fingers. "Let’s see—Marcus is destroying your reputation, your board wants you gone, Lucas grabbed me, and we’re living together pretending to be a happy family. So yes, long day."
Damien appeared behind me, taking the bottle and corkscrew from my hands, his fingers brushed mine. "Let me."
He opened it with practiced ease, poured two generous glasses, and handed me one.
"To survival," he said, raising his glass.
"To not killing each other." I clinked mine against his.
We drank in silence, standing too close in the dimly lit kitchen. The wine was smooth on my tongue, It left a pleasant warmth in my throat. I could taste blackberry.
"I talked to the board," Damien said finally. His voice was rough. "Convinced them to give me two weeks to clean up the Marcus situation."
"How’d you manage that?"
"Threatened to tank the stock price if they removed me." He shrugged as his shoulders rolled with the movement. "It’s amazing what people will overlook when their portfolios are at stake."
"That’s ruthless."
"I learned from the best." His eyes held mine, they were darker now. "You."


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The readers' comments on the novel: The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir
For someone who is supposed to be all powerful and ruthless, Damien is so lame. Marcus has outsmarted him too many times to count. Good thing i'm mainly here for the romance....