Night pressed heavy against the penthouse windows, the city lights glittering like a million watchful eyes.
Aria sat curled on the sofa, a glass of untouched wine in her hand. She'd been waiting for Darius to come home. Not because she wanted to — but because she needed to.
The front door clicked open. He stepped in, jacket slung over his arm, expression unreadable.
"Late night at the office?" she asked, voice sharper than she intended.
His gaze swept over her, noting the glass, the way her shoulders were tight. "We had a situation."
"A situation that kept you from answering your phone?"
"I told you before," he said, dropping the jacket onto a chair, "when I don't answer, it's for a reason."
Aria set the wine down. "And I told you before — I don't like being kept in the dark."
He crossed the room in three slow strides. "The dark is what keeps you safe, Aria. If you knew the names I deal with, the debts that change hands… you'd stop asking."
Her heart thudded. "Debts?"
"Not money." His eyes locked on hers. "Loyalty. Favors. People who think they own pieces of me. Pieces they'd use to get to you."
Her throat tightened. "So this is all… what? Some twisted protection plan?"
"This is survival," he said quietly. "And if I have to be the bad guy in your eyes to make sure you're breathing tomorrow, I'll take it."
Aria held his stare, but the room felt smaller, the air thinner. She wanted to believe him — and hated that part of her already did.
Darius straightened, breaking the moment. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we're going somewhere you'll need to look like you belong."
"Where?" she asked.
He smiled without warmth. "A lion's den much worse than mine."