He takes my hand and leads me out of the hotel room. We take the elevator down, and I'm just thinking to myself, I better not make a fool out of myself.
We get to the ground floor, where the receptionist's eyes go wide as she sees us along with everyone else in the lobby.
On the other side of the hotel's glass doors, there's already a sea of paparazzi and camera flashes, I take this as the perfect time to snake my hand around his arm. You know, for emotional support.
A very large man in all black jogs over to us, he addresses Aaron, "Sir, we don't know how they got here, we were discreet with your location-"
Aaron cuts him short. "That's alright, just make sure she's fine on our way to the car," he instructs and the huge man nods, he then signals to his men who appear in their tens out of nowhere and surround us.
Aaron places his hand around my waist and leads us outside the hotel. Beyond the hotel's glass doors, my vision is suddenly filled with bright flashes; I can barely see where I'm walking so I hold on to Aaron extra tightly.
The body guards are all around us and are preventing the journalists and paparazzi from getting any closer to us or shoving a mic in our face.
Damn, the way they're all congregated here you'd think the president cheated on his wife, also why is it such a long walk to the car?
A part of my brain pictures my face all over the internet and blog posts by tomorrow, they'll probably call me a slut and whatnot. Who knows?
"We're almost there, darling." Aaron says to me, raising his voice so that it's heard above than the clamor. All these names he keeps calling me instead of mine, they're doing something to me.
I look up at him and see he's looking over my shoulders, staring people down, making sure no one touches me. I look down at my waist and notice his hands firmly keeping me to his side. He's really putting on a show, isn't he?
We get to the car, the horde of reporters still hot on our tail. Aaron gets the door and makes sure I'm in safe before he walks to the other side and gets in the driver's seat.
"Are you good?" he asks me as soon as the doors are locked.
"Yea, l am." I respond avoiding his seeking eyes. He hums in response and starts the car. We drive away from the scene and soon enough we're on the highway.
"Does that always happen every time you're on a date with a girl," I genuinely ask and a guttural laugh erupts from Aaron.
"That's your takeaway from all that?" he glances at me, taking his eyes off the road for a while.
"I mean, I do have more questions," I chuckle, "are you gonna answer this one?"
"No, this doesn't happen often. I actually arranged for them to be there, I paid someone to tip them off and they came running. Like moth to flame," his eyes are on the road as he speaks to me. Mine are on him.
Aaron doesn't strike me as someone that just wants attention or the media in his business for the sake of popularity. He's already pretty known, so for him to be really intentional about our fake relationship gaining publicity and credibility, it has to be for something important. Right?
"You haven't told me why you want a fake marriage, Aaron," I say.
His hands tighten slightly around the wheel, jaw ticking. "You want the world to think were in love but why does it matter so much to you?"
He exhales a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
"My father," he begins, "has this twisted notion of legacy. Said he won't hand over the reins to the conglomerate unless I prove I can 'build a future worth handing it to.' His words." Damiens voice is dry, almost mocking.
I study his expression, the way his eyes stay on the road a little too long, like he's trying not to look at me.
"He said: 'Fall in love, get married. Then we'll talk.'" Damien scoffs. "That was the one condition."
"So you decided to fake it?"
"Of course I did," he mutters. "I respect the old man, I do. He wants the best for me. But I have other priorities right now. I can't afford to fall in love."
I stare at him, chewing on the words. "Why not?"
Silence stretches long enough that I think he might not answer.
Then quietly, he says, "Because love distracts. It clouds judgment. And I can't afford to be soft... not until I get revenge for the woman who mattered most to me."
I blink. "The woman who mattered most to you?"
His grip on the wheel goes white-knuckled. "My mother. She was killed. And I plan to make whoever did it pay."
The atmosphere becomes heavily charged. I can't for the sake of me come with anything to say so I decide to sit in the silence for the rest of the drive.
Somehow Aaron's manner of approach to life makes more sense now.
~~~
Dinner passes in a blur of candlelight, whispers, and practiced smiles. We dance between conversations and subtle touches that look good on camera even if there are no cameras now, I can feel the weight of eyes around us.
By the time we walk out of the restaurant, the streets are quieter. No paparazzi this time, but people still turn to look. Still whisper.
We approach the car.
"I'm gonna head home," I tell him.
He halts, brows furrowed. "You should stay at the suite tonight. It's safer."
"I need to grab a few things. And check on Darius." I force a smile. "But thank you for tonight. It was... a good date."
He studies my face, maybe unsure if I'm being sincere. Then he nods. "Alright. Let me know when you get in."
I nod. "Goodnight, Aaron."
"Goodnight, Leo." He says back and for a second the smile on his lips feel genuine.
~~~
I unlock my apartment and step inside. It might be a shoebox compared to the suite but it's still home, I guess.
I halt in my steps. Something feels... off.
The air is too still. The lights flicker faintly, as they've been turned off too long. My keys jangle softly as I move, and then—
Crack.
Pain explodes through the back of my head. My vision flashes white. I hit the ground, and the world goes black.
A groan escapes my lips as I come to with a pounding skull and the cold bite of rope against my skin.
My arms and legs are bound, my body slouched against a dining chair. My breathing is shallow, lips dry.
"Finally awake," a voice drawls above me.
A tall man stands in the shadows, arms crossed. Then from behind him, she steps into view.
My mother?