Chapter 6 Aria's Dilemma

Aria’s POV Aria stepped into the study, her heels clicking softly against the cold marble floor. The room was dimly lit, neither too bright nor completely dark, casting eerie shadows on the obsidian-colored furniture. Everything was black. The curtains, the walls, even the chandelier above her head had black crystals dangling from it. It felt less like a study and more like the lair of a man who controlled shadows. Her heart pounded. And then she saw him. He was seated behind a grand, high, backed leather chair, its back turned to her. The chair moved gently, side to side, as if he was deep in thought. She couldn't see his face, only the broad silhouette of a man with authority etched into his very stillness. Aria swallowed. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Damian,” she said, keeping her voice steady, though her hands trembled at her sides. Silence. The air seemed to thicken with every passing second. She shifted on her feet. “My name is Aria Sinclair.” Still nothing. “I... I wanted to speak to you about something,” she continued, nerves tightening around her like a vice. “Actually... I would like to get married to you.” The silence that followed was deafening. The chair stopped moving. Aria blinked. “Umm... Mr. Damian? Did you hear what I said?” That’s when he spoke. His voice was calm, deep, and smooth like silk laced with steel. “You’re really bold.” The chair spun around. Aria’s breath caught in her throat. It was him. Her eyes widened. Her chest tightened as her mind replayed every second of that night at the club, the kiss, his touch, the way he made her feel things she never had before. It was him. The stranger she had thrown herself at. The man who left her gasping with just his fingers. “You...” she whispered, her voice almost failing her. “But how is this possible?” Damian De Luca. The infamous mafia Don. The man she had come to marry out of revenge... was the very man who had undressed her soul the night before. “You’re Marco’s father?” she asked, disbelief painting every word. Damian leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as if he enjoyed her shock. “Yes,” he said with a slow nod. “I’m Mr. Damian De Luca.” He stood and began walking toward her, his movements graceful and deliberate, like a predator approaching prey. Aria instinctively stepped back. Damian’s smirk deepened. “Seems like you couldn’t get over last night. You followed me home?” She stiffened. “No, I didn’t know—” “You didn’t know what?” he interrupted, stopping mere inches from her. His scent, something dark and masculine, wrapped around her like a cloak. He raised his hand and gently touched her lower lip. Her breath hitched. Her body betrayed her again, leaning slightly into his touch. “You seem terrified,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. “Strange, considering how eager you were for me to touch you last night.” Aria’s back hit the wall behind her. She was trapped. Her mind screamed for her to speak, to push him away, to regain control. “I... I was drunk,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean—” “You said you liked danger,” he reminded her, cutting her off again, leaning in until their lips were almost touching. “I didn’t know who you were,” she breathed. “But now you do.” His voice was hypnotic, each word pulling her deeper into the web she had unknowingly stepped into. “I made a mistake” she blurted out, desperation creeping into her voice. “I didn’t think—” “You wanted to marry me,” he said, a cold edge returning to his voice. “Was that your brilliant plan, sweetheart?” She shook her head. “It was a mistake. A huge one.” He pressed his palm against the wall beside her head, caging her in. His body was close, too close, and her thoughts blurred. Then, just as suddenly, he leaned in to kiss her. But Aria turned her face at the last second and bolted. Her heels clicked frantically as she ran through the hallway, past the confused guards, and out of the mansion. Damian stood still, watching her escape, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself. Aria’s POV The ride home felt like a blur. The city lights outside the taxi window spun like stars in a galaxy of regret. She held her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. As soon as she reached the front door, Fiona opened it. Aria didn’t speak. She walked straight in and collapsed onto the couch, her face pale and expression haunted. Fiona shut the door and followed her. “What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Aria stared blankly ahead. “I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.” Fiona knelt in front of her. “What do you mean?” Aria’s lips trembled. “The man I met at the club last night... the one I kissed, the one who touched me...” Fiona nodded, already piecing it together. “He’s Marco’s father,” Aria said, almost choking on the words. “He’s Mr. Damian De Luca. The mafia Don.” Fiona gasped. “What?! How is that even possible? You mean you never met Marco’s dad?” “I hadn’t,” Aria whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “I threw myself at him like some desperate... thing. And today I went to his house asking him to marry me.” Fiona's eyes widened. “Oh my God, Aria.” Aria buried her face in her palms. “He must think I’m some kind of cheap woman. I feel so disgusted with myself.” Fiona gently pulled her hands down. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. You didn’t know. None of this is your fault.” “But don’t you get it?” Aria snapped, standing up. “I got intimate with Marco’s father. Do you know what Marco will think if he finds out? Do you know what everyone will think?” Fiona crossed her arms. “Honestly? Who cares what Marco thinks? He cheated on you and humiliated you. If anyone deserves betrayal, it’s him.” Aria shook her head. “No. I can’t marry Damian. I won’t survive in that world. I need to stay far away from that man.” “Then stay away,” Fiona said gently. “Walk away and forget all of this.” Just then, Aria’s phone rang. Her heart dropped. The number was unknown. She hesitated but still answered with shaky hands. “Hello?” “Hey, Aria.” The voice sent chills through her spine. Cold. Calm. Commanding. It was him. “Mr. Damian?” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “See me tomorrow,” he said without emotion. “Don’t be late.” Before she could respond, the call ended. Aria stared at the phone like it might explode. “What now?” Fiona asked, already guessing. Aria swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into,” she whispered. “And I have no idea how to get out of it.”