Chapter 5 Dinner in the Lion's Den

Damien hadn't stopped thinking about her since the gala.

Every detail of that night replayed like an addictive reel in his head-her gaze slicing through the crowd like a secret meant only for him, the way she smiled with her lips but not her eyes, and the way she left, just when he wanted more.

He wasn't a man accustomed to waiting.

By the next afternoon, his mind was made up. He wanted her alone. No crowds. No distractions. Just her.

The message came while I was sipping tea on my balcony.

Damien: Dinner. My place. Tonight.

No question mark. No hesitation. Just a statement, as if my answer was already yes.

I stared at the screen for a long moment, letting the corner of my lips curl.

Confident, aren't you, Damien?

I typed back one word.

Aria: Where?

His response was immediate.

Damien: Penthouse. Seven o'clock. I'll send the car.

I smirked as I set my phone down. He was drawing closer, just as I wanted.

Tonight, I'd see more of the man I planned to unravel.

By the time I arrived, the sun had dipped low, painting the city skyline in shades of gold and violet. The car slid to a stop in front of a towering building, and I stepped out, my heels clicking against the marble steps.

The elevator ride to the top was silent, but the anticipation thrummed in my chest like a pulse.

When the doors opened, Damien was waiting.

She was breathtaking.

The deep wine-red dress hugged her curves, the fabric shimmering softly under the dim lights of the penthouse. Her hair was loose this time, framing her face like a halo that contradicted the quiet fire in her eyes.

"Aria," I said, my voice low as I stepped forward.

"Damien," she replied, her lips curling into a small smile.

I offered her my hand, leading her inside. "Welcome to my home."

The penthouse was a reflection of who I was-sleek, modern, filled with sharp lines and expensive taste. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the glittering sprawl of the city below.

"You live well," she remarked, glancing around as if she were memorizing every inch.

"I do," I said with a faint smile. "But tonight, I'm more interested in you."

Dinner was already set-a private table near the window, candles flickering, soft music filling the background. I watched her as she sat down, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable.

"Do you always invite women here so quickly?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"No," I said simply. "Only when I can't stop thinking about them."

Her brows arched slightly, but she didn't respond right away. She lifted her glass of wine instead, swirling the liquid before taking a slow sip.

He was staring again.

I could feel his eyes on me like a touch, like heat that crawled over my skin. He wanted to know me, to understand me-and that made him dangerous.

But it also made him predictable.

"Why me, Damien?" I asked softly, setting my glass down. "There must be hundreds of women in your orbit."

"None like you," he said without hesitation.

I let a small smile curve my lips. "You don't even know who I am."

"Then tell me," he challenged, leaning forward.

I chuckled softly, tilting my head. "Where's the fun in that?"

His eyes darkened with intrigue, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. He wasn't used to this-someone slipping through his grasp. Good.

The conversation shifted, light and teasing, but underneath it, there was an electric current neither of us could ignore. When I stood to glance out the window, Damien rose too, stepping behind me.

"Beautiful view," I said, my voice steady.

"Yes," he murmured, though I felt his gaze on me, not the city.

I turned, and for a brief second, we were inches apart-close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, close enough that I could feel his breath.

He didn't move. Neither did I.

The air between us was sharp, heavy, like a wire pulled taut. I wanted to touch her.

Every fiber of me screamed to reach out, to brush her hair back, to feel her skin under my fingertips. But something in her gaze stopped me-a quiet warning, like a knife hidden behind a smile.

"Do you always play with fire?" I asked, my voice low.

She smirked faintly. "Only when I'm sure it won't burn me."

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of tension. By the time I walked her to the elevator, I felt like I'd been holding my breath for hours.

"I'll see you again," I said. It wasn't a question.

She tilted her head, her red lips curving into a sly smile. "We'll see, Damien."

The elevator doors closed, and I finally exhaled, my heart still drumming from the nearness of him.

Not because I was afraid.

But because I could feel the game sharpening between us.

"This is just the beginning," I whispered as the elevator descended."

*The deeper Damien fell, the closer Aria moved to her target.*