Chapter 5 Secrets in the Dark

The following week brought with it a strange rhythm. Aria moved through the Sinclair estate like a guest who couldn't unpack, always watched, always polished. The staff smiled with practiced warmth. The air always smelled of lavender and silence. And Damien-he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

They shared breakfasts in silence, dinners in performance, and nights apart. But something in the atmosphere had shifted since that dinner party. Tension hung heavier between them, no longer just professional-it was personal. Electric.

And dangerous.

One evening, after yet another staged photoshoot for a charity gala Damien had sponsored, Aria returned to her suite feeling hollow. She peeled off her gown, stepped out of her heels, and dropped onto the chaise with a sigh. The flash of cameras still buzzed in her head, along with the words of one persistent reporter:

"You're the mystery wife. What's it like to tame Damien Sinclair?"

She hadn't answered. Because she didn't know. And perhaps she never would.

Later that night, unable to sleep, Aria wandered the halls in her robe, bare feet padding softly against the cool tiles. The house was a maze-dark, silent, too large for one soul. It didn't feel like home. It felt like a museum, curated to impress, not comfort.

She turned a corner and froze.

Damien stood at the far end of the corridor, shirtless in black lounge pants, a glass of scotch in hand, silhouetted against the moonlight pouring through the window.

He hadn't noticed her. He was staring out, lost in thought, jaw tense, the lines of his shoulders sharp in the low light. Vulnerable. Human.

Aria took a step back to leave unnoticed, but the floor creaked.

He turned. "Aria."

She hesitated. "Couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I."

She walked toward him slowly, unsure why her heart was suddenly hammering. "You always drink alone in the dark?"

"Only when the ghosts get loud."

She raised a brow. "You don't strike me as haunted."

"Then you don't know me yet."

He offered her the glass. She took it, sipped.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward-it was loaded.

She looked up at him. "What happened to you?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on a spot beyond her.

"My father was a legend. The kind of man people feared and followed in equal measure. He built Sinclair Industries from the ground up. But he built it like a fortress-no room for emotion, only power."

"And you inherited the fortress."

"I inherited the war."

She studied his face. "That's why you don't let people in."

"I let you in."

The words were soft. Barely there.

She blinked. "Do you mean that?"

His eyes flicked to hers. "I married you, didn't I?"

"That's not the same."

A beat of silence stretched between them.

"No," he admitted. "It's not."

Aria handed back the glass. "I'm not your father. I'm not here to control or hurt you."

"I know."

"Then stop acting like I'm the enemy."

He studied her for a long moment, then set the glass down on a nearby table.

"I can't promise to stop protecting myself. But I can try not to push you away."

It wasn't a declaration. But it was something.

She nodded. "Good night, Damien."

He reached out-hesitated-then brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Good night, Aria."

The next morning, Aria received a surprise visit.

"Elena said I had a guest?" she asked, entering the drawing room in a cream blouse and jeans.

Seated on the edge of the velvet settee was a woman Aria hadn't seen in years.

"Jules?"

Her best friend leapt to her feet. "Aria!"

They embraced tightly. Jules pulled back with a grin. "You're impossible to reach! No texts, no calls? Then I see you on the cover of LuxeLife Magazine?"

Aria laughed, overwhelmed. "It's... been a lot."

"No kidding. You disappeared, married a billionaire, and didn't even invite me to the scandal of the year."

"I couldn't. It wasn't-" Aria hesitated. "It wasn't a normal wedding."

Jules studied her, eyes narrowing. "You okay? Is he treating you right?"

Aria nodded. "It's complicated. But I'm okay."

Jules wasn't satisfied, but she let it go-for now. They sat, talked, caught up on everything from old inside jokes to new worries. Aria realized how much she missed being seen without layers.

Eventually, Jules said, "So what happens when the year's up?"

Aria blinked. "You know?"

"Of course I know. You think I can't read between headlines?"

Aria sighed. "Then you know I don't have an answer."

Jules leaned in. "Do you love him?"

"No," Aria said too quickly.

Jules raised a brow.

"I don't," Aria repeated, softer this time. "I can't."

"Then why do you look like your chest hurts when you say it?"

Aria had no answer.

That night, Damien found her in the library, curled in an armchair with a book she hadn't read a single word of.

"Your friend left," he said, stepping inside.

"She thinks I'm in over my head."

"Are you?"

Aria looked at him. "Are you worth drowning for?"

Damien didn't flinch. "That's a dangerous question."

"So is marrying a stranger."

He moved closer. "I'm not a stranger anymore."

"No," she whispered. "You're not."

Their eyes locked. Neither moved.

Damien exhaled slowly. "I've been alone for a long time, Aria. Even when I wasn't."

"I know the feeling."

The space between them shrank. And when his hand reached for hers, she didn't pull away.

He drew her up from the chair, holding her hand like it was something precious. "If we're going to play this game," he murmured, "maybe we don't have to fake everything."

"Maybe," she agreed, her voice trembling.

Then he kissed her-gently, cautiously, like he was afraid she'd vanish. It wasn't about passion. It was about honesty.

And it changed everything.