The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Chapter 83:

Aria pov

"Then let me prove it." He stepped closer. I could see the stubble on his jaw, darker now in the evening light. "Every day, for however long it takes. Let me prove I’m not going anywhere."

"And if you can’t? If one day you wake up and realize this is too hard, too messy, too complicated?"

"Then I’ll push through anyway." His hands framed my face. His palms were warm against my cheeks. "Because the alternative—a life without you and Noah—is worse than any difficulty."

I wanted to believe him. But belief was a luxury I couldn’t afford yet.

The security system beeped from the living room. Someone moving on the balcony camera. We both tensed, but then a voice came through the intercom. "Just Martinez doing rounds, Mr. Blackwood."

Damien relaxed but I didn’t.

"Do you have feelings for him?" The question burst out him "For Lucas?"

I blinked at the sudden change of topic. "What? No. Why would you"

"He said he loves you." Damien’s voice was careful. "And he’s a good man. Stable, kind, successful. Everything I wasn’t years ago."

"But he’s not you."

Damien’s eyes searched mine. "Would it matter if I did?" I countered. "Have feelings for him? You don’t own me, Damien."

"I know." His voice cracked. Actually cracked, like something breaking. "But it would destroy me, Aria. Knowing you could choose someone else. Someone who didn’t fail you someone worthy of you."

"Stop." I pressed my hand to his chest, his heart was racing under my palm. Fast, hard beats that matched my own. "Just stop. I don’t want Lucas. I don’t want anyone else, i want"

"What?" His hand covered mine, pressing it harder against his chest. "Tell me what you want."

"You." The word came out barely a whisper. My throat was tight, making it hard to speak. "I want you and it terrifies me."

His whole body shuddered. I felt it run through him, head to toe. Like an electric current.

"Aria"

"Don’t." I stepped back before I could do something stupid. My back hit the wall. The paint was cool through my thin shirt. "Don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s late, I’m tired, I’m not thinking clearly"

"You’re thinking perfectly clearly." He followed me. Planted his hands on the wall on either side of my head. Boxing me in but not touching me. "And you just told me exactly what I needed to hear."

I could smell him. That mix of cologne and soap and something that was just him that made my head spin.

"Damien"

"Do you know what it does to me?" His voice was roughly low. The kind of voice that made heat pool in my stomach. "Hearing you say you want me? After everything I did, everything I destroyed—you still want me."

"I shouldn’t."

"No, you shouldn’t." He pulled me close. His arms went around me, solid and strong. "You should hate me. Should’ve moved on. Should’ve chosen someone like Lucas who would worship you from day one."

"But I didn’t."

"But you didn’t." His forehead pressed to mine. I could feel his breath on my face. "And I’m selfish enough, broken enough, desperate enough to be grateful for that."

My hands were on his chest. I could feel his muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt. Feel the rise and fall of his breathing.

"We’re a mess," I whispered.

"The biggest mess I’ve ever seen." He smiled against my hair. I felt the curve of his lips. "But we’re our mess. And somehow, that makes it perfect."

I pulled back to look at him. His eyes were dark in the dim hallway. "Nothing about this is perfect."

"No," he agreed as his thumb traced my jawline. The touch sent shivers down my spine. "But it’s real. Complicated and painful and terrifying—but real, and after years of regrets and what-ifs, I’ll take real over perfect any day."

I wanted to kiss him. Wanted to forget about Marcus and the danger and fear and just lose myself in him. My eyes dropped to his mouth. His lips were slightly parted. I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

But Noah’s door was right there. Just a few feet away and Marcus was out there somewhere. Planning. Waiting. And nothing was resolved. We were standing in a heavily guarded penthouse because a psychopath wanted us dead.

This wasn’t the time no matter how much my body disagreed.

"We should sleep," I said instead. My voice came out hoarse. "Separate rooms with our clear heads."

Disappointment flickered across his face. His jaw tightened. His arms loosened around me. But he nodded. "Whatever you need."

The hallway was quiet now. Just the hum of the air conditioning. The distant sound of traffic from far below. The soft beep of the security system doing its checks.

He was right. Damn him, he was right.

I was falling.

And it was absolutely terrifying.

I pushed off the wall but my legs felt weak. I made my way to my bedroom. The bed looked too big, too empty. I could go to him. Walk down the hall, open his door and let this happen.

But I didn’t.

Instead I climbed into bed. Pulled the covers up and stared at the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn’t come. I knew it wouldn’t . But I closed my eyes anyway. And tried not to think about Damien down the hall. I tried not to think about the way his hands felt on my face. The way his voice sounded when he said my name.

I tried but failed.

Two Days Later

I was reviewing contracts in Damien’s study when my phone rang. A number I hoped never to see again, it was my mother.

My thumb hovered over the decline button. Every instinct screamed to ignore it, to block the number, to pretend Eleanor Monroe didn’t exist.

But curiosity won out.

"Hello?" My voice came out colder than I intended.

"Aria." My mother’s cultured tone hadn’t changed. "I’m so glad you answered. I wasn’t sure you would."

"What do you want, Eleanor?"

A pause. She hated when I called her by her first name instead of ’Mother.’

"I wanted to see you and my grandson." Her voice softened artificially. "Darling, surely we can put the past behind us?"