Chapter 4 Unspoken Truths

The elevator ride up to Damian's office was suffocating. The sound of the quiet hum, the metallic walls, the sterile white lighting-it felt like a coffin. Aria's thoughts, as chaotic and jumbled as they were, seemed to echo within her own mind, but she couldn't escape them. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the back of her nose. His words kept playing in her head, like a melody that she couldn't shake. What I want might be exactly what you need.

What did that even mean?

Her fingers curled into fists by her sides, and she tried not to let the panic rise in her chest. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, the quiet thud of her pulse the only sound she could hear. She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't the kind of woman who belonged in places like this.

The doors of the elevator opened with a soft ding, and she stepped out, her heels clicking on the marble floor. The lobby of Damian's office was grand, but not in a way that was loud or flashy. No, it was understated-refined. Everything screamed money, but in a quiet, almost dangerous way. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, and soft golden lights bathed everything in an almost ethereal glow. She was standing in a place built for people like him-people who controlled entire industries, entire lives.

And then there was her.

She felt the weight of her own insignificance in the face of this world, and yet, some part of her couldn't stop being curious. Her breath was shallow, but she forced herself to keep walking, her gaze fixed on the floor ahead.

At the end of the long hallway stood a set of towering double doors, polished black wood that gleamed under the soft lighting. Her pulse quickened as she approached, the anticipation thick in the air. Damian had barely spoken to her in the elevator, his silence only adding to the tension building between them.

When they reached the doors, he held one open, his dark eyes never leaving hers. His gaze was intense, but there was something softer behind it, something that made her wonder if the man standing before her was truly the same person who exuded power and authority with every step he took.

She stepped into the room before him, her heart in her throat.

Damian's office was everything she'd imagined-more. The space was grand without being overwhelming, luxurious without being gaudy. A massive desk sat in the middle, surrounded by shelves filled with books and artifacts from around the world. On the wall behind him hung a painting that was both beautiful and haunting-vivid reds and golds swirling in a chaotic dance. The whole room felt like it belonged to a man who had seen it all, done it all, and was now too detached from it to care.

He walked around the desk, his hand grazing the smooth surface, as though everything here was his to command.

"Please," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Take a seat. I don't bite."

It was a strange attempt at humor, and Aria couldn't tell if it was genuine or another layer of the carefully constructed persona he wore like a second skin. She sat down, the chair too comfortable, too soft for someone like her. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep her mind from spiraling. He didn't sit right away-just stood there, watching her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

"I imagine you're wondering why you're here," he said finally, his tone low, controlled.

"Honestly? Yes," she answered, her voice steadier than she felt. "I don't know what this is about, Damian."

He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "I suppose I owe you an explanation. But first, I'd like to ask you something."

Aria looked up, meeting his gaze. "What?"

"Do you believe in fate, Aria?" His question was soft, almost like a whisper.

She blinked. It wasn't the question she'd expected. She paused, considering it for a moment. "Fate?" She scoffed, the bitterness in her voice startling her. "No. I believe in hard work. In what we make of our lives."

Damian didn't react immediately, just stared at her, as if contemplating her response. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he nodded. "I figured you'd say that. You strike me as someone who doesn't believe in the things that can't be controlled."

"Maybe it's because I don't have the luxury of believing in things like fate," she said, her words more pointed than she intended.

There was a brief silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was as though he understood her bitterness-perhaps even respected it. Damian leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as he studied her.

"I know what you think of me, Aria," he said, his voice losing some of its usual cool detachment. "You think I'm just some rich businessman who's used to getting whatever he wants. You think that I don't understand what it's like to struggle, to fight for everything I have. And maybe you're right."

The admission stunned her. She hadn't expected honesty from him-not like this. She had thought he was just playing a game, using his power to manipulate people into doing what he wanted. She hadn't expected him to open up, to show any weakness.

"And maybe you're right, too," he continued, his gaze shifting to the window, where the city stretched out before them. "But that doesn't mean I don't understand you."

The words were heavy, like a challenge, but there was something vulnerable in his voice that made Aria pause.

"You don't know anything about me," she said, though her voice lacked the bite it once had.

Damian's eyes met hers again, and for the first time, there was something raw behind them-something not entirely guarded. "I know enough to know that you're not like the others. You're not like the women who throw themselves at me because of who I am, or what I can give them. You're different."

Aria swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond to this side of him. He had a way of making her feel as though she was seen, really seen, for the first time in a long time. And yet, part of her hated the way it made her feel-exposed, vulnerable. She wasn't supposed to let him in. She wasn't supposed to let anyone in.

"I'm not interested in you, Damian," she said, the words harsher than she intended.

He didn't flinch, didn't even seem fazed. Instead, he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "And yet, here you are. Why? Because you're curious. Because you want to know what this is. What I am. And that's exactly what I intend to show you."

Aria opened her mouth to protest, but Damian stood up suddenly, walking over to the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

"You don't have to trust me, Aria. Not yet. But I think, in time, you will. And when that happens... you'll see why everything I do is for a reason."

His words hung in the air between them, heavy and enigmatic. She stared at his back, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion swirl in her chest. She didn't know why she was still here, didn't know why she couldn't walk away from this strange, magnetic pull he seemed to have over her.

But for now, all she could do was stay. And listen. And wait.