The sun filtered through sheer curtains the next morning, casting soft gold patterns on the hardwood floors.
Aria sat at the breakfast bar, barefoot in leggings and one of her oversized sweaters, nursing a lukewarm mug of coffee. She hadn't slept well in the guest room, too many thoughts and too much silence. And every time a door creaked or the air conditioner kicked on, she thought it was Damien walking in.
But he never came home.
She wasn't sure if that was a blessing or an insult.
A tall stool creaked as she shifted her weight, reaching for the remote to turn on the news. Headlines flashed across the screen, and of course, there they were. Her photo with Damien from a gala last year. Someone had dug it up, slapped it next to the headline:
"Engaged? Billionaire Damien Blackwood and PR Executive Aria Valen spark marriage rumors."
Her face in the photo wore a nervous, practiced smile.
He didn't.
He always looked the same. Untouched, unreadable. Like none of this could reach him.
She was still staring at the screen when the penthouse door finally clicked open.
She tensed.
Damien walked in like he owned not just the place, but the air around him. Black tailored suit, no tie, top buttons undone. No apology. No greeting.
Just Damien.
His eyes swept over her, pausing briefly at the coffee mug in her hand. "You're up early."
"I didn't sleep much."
He nodded once, then moved to the espresso machine like it was a ritual. Silence stretched between them like thick fog.
"Long night?" she asked, voice carefully neutral.
Damien didn't look at her. "You could say that."
She waited for more.
There wasn't more.
Of course not.
She turned off the TV, the remote clicking a little louder than necessary.
"I saw the news," she said, forcing calm into her voice.
He sipped his coffee. "We knew this would happen."
"Yes, but I didn't know I'd be bombarded with interview requests at six in the morning."
"You'll get used to it."
She bristled. "You say that like I signed up to be your celebrity pet."
He looked at her then. Calm, unreadable, annoyingly in control. "You signed up to be my wife."
"In public."
"In every way that matters."
Aria set her mug down harder than she meant to. "Define what you mean by every way."
A pause. A quiet, calculated one.
Damien leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Are you asking if I expect sex?"
The air between them shifted. Thinned.
She blinked but didn't back down. "I'm asking if this fake marriage has… conditions."
His eyes flickered, and for a second just one she saw something human in him. Surprise? Amusement? Guilt?
Then it was gone.
"No," he said. "No conditions. No expectations."
"Good." Her voice was sharper than she intended.
"But," he added, stepping closer, "we do need to look convincing. That means holding hands. That means dinners, weekend appearances, the occasional… public affection."
"I can manage that."
He studied her like he was trying to read beneath her skin. "You sure?"
"I said I could handle it, Damien. Don't act like I'm the fragile one here."
Silence.
Then a short, humorless chuckle. "You're not fragile."
He walked away, heading toward his bedroom.
She stared after him.
There it was that strange shift. Like he was almost reaching for honesty, then pulling back at the last second.
She hated that she noticed.
And she hated that part of her wanted to know what would happen if he didn't pull back.
Later that day
Aria stood in the massive walk-in closet. It was still mostly his tailored suits, pristine shirts, and dark leather shoes lined like soldiers on the lower shelves.
Her corner was pitiful in comparison: three suitcases and a garment bag.
She hadn't unpacked yet.
She didn't feel like this was home. And she wasn't sure she wanted it to be.
Her phone buzzed.
Mia: Tell me this is all a joke?
Mia: You and Damien Blackwood? ARIA?
Mia: Call me. Now.
Aria groaned and flopped onto the bench in the middle of the closet.
She didn't have the energy to explain it again. Not to Mia. Not to anyone.
It wasn't real.
But it was happening.
And she had no idea how to get through the next six months without losing herself.