15. Chapter Aria
I wake up in a tangle of sheets and thoughts, exhausted. I barely slept last night, my mind replaying over and over again another almost kiss between us. The little sleep I did get was filled with inappropriate dreams. The reality of the situation is that I’m here with him for business. Strictly business—that’s it. I remind myself of that as I sit up in bed and push my hair away from my face, letting out a frustrated groan.
I force myself out of bed and head to the bathroom to freshen up and start getting ready for my lunch meeting with Damian. The last thing I want to do is see him, because if memory serves right, the man shuts down every time we have a moment. These games are getting old really fucking fast, and I don’t think I can handle another cold version of him. Fuck this. And fuck him for shutting down every time too.
Yeah, like you’re any better.
Well, at least I’m not an asshole about it.
As I’m getting dressed and reviewing my notes, I can't shake the restlessness that has settled within me.
I need to get laid.
That’s it. A distraction to keep my mind off Damian and the stupid games we’ve been playing. He’s had more than enough opportunities to make a move, but if there’s one thing I know about him, he’s a calculated man, and whatever this is between us, it’s the opposite of that.
I've been single for a while, and maybe it's time to indulge in a one-night stand. It's not something I've done often, but maybe it's exactly what I need to forget him. With that decision in mind, I reopen the dating app on my phone and begin browsing through potential matches. The profiles flicker across the screen, insecurity taking over.
Is this really the best way to forget about him? Enough to forget this magnetic pull that seems to gravitate us toward each other?
After spending time swiping left and right, I'm able to meet a guy who is also in the city for a work trip. After talking for an hour or two, we set up a dinner date later today.
Perfect. My plan is already working.
As the clock ticks toward 11:00 AM, I can't escape the looming dread of our lunch meeting. I know I have to face Damian, and my nerves are working overtime. I slip into a sleek turtleneck long-sleeve shirt, paired with high-waisted pants cinched at the waist by a thick, shiny black belt. It’s a bit chilly today, so I opt for an oversized blazer to keep me warm. I complete the ensemble with my usual Louboutin heels, because even though they are terribly uncomfortable, I paid a ridiculous amount of money for them, so I gotta wear them and get my money’s worth.
Arriving at the hotel's restaurant to meet Damian as we had planned, I scan the room, quickly spotting him. He looks striking in his simple, yet well-put-together, outfit. He’s wearing a knitted black tee, and a gold necklace hangs against his chest. His light beige pants hug his perfectly toned legs, and a gold watch adorns his wrist, pairing extremely well with his deep olive skin.
My stupid heart skips a beat at the sight of him. He looks really good— too good.
Approaching the table, our eyes meet, a flush of embarrassment reaching my cheeks. I've been admiring him for longer than I intended. Still, I'm determined to maintain my composure.
Taking my seat, I offer a simple apology, “Sorry I'm late.”
His response catches me off guard as he snaps, “You're ten minutes late, and I have places to be.”
The man who was so close to kissing me in the kitchen seems so distant now, and whilst it’s fucking disappointing, I’m not surprised by his attitude at all. This is what he does. He just shuts down completely, and builds his walls right back up. We take one step forward, then two steps back. The dance is getting tiresome and annoying. I honestly thought we were past this. I should’ve known better than that now.
Before I can reply with what is sure to be a witty and sarcastic response, a man approaches us with a confident stride, his presence commanding attention. He extends his hand toward Damian, greeting him with a hearty handshake and a friendly smile. “Hey, didn't know you were coming. I would've set up a meeting if I knew.”
Damian returns the handshake, offering a nod of acknowledgment. “Last-minute work trip, you know how it is.”
He’s the same guy who was in Damian’s office the other day. The one that Damian shares some physical similarities with. The only difference between them is his deeper tan and caramel whiskey eyes. He’s a little shorter than Damian too, and somewhat bulkier, barely noticeable.
“And who do we have here?” he inquires, his gaze shifting to me as he raises a curious eyebrow.
Damian introduces me with a casual tone, “This is Aria Petrov, the curator of the gallery. Aria, meet Lorenzo Mancini, my cousin. ”
I extend my hand, meeting Lorenzo’s firm grip with my own. As we exchange pleasantries, a thought occurs to me as I glance at the restaurant's name. “Do you own Lorenzo’s in Chicago?” I ask curiously.
Lorenzo's nod is accompanied by a charming smile. “I own a couple around the world. And please, call me Enzo,” he says with a friendly wink.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a subtle change in Damian's demeanor. His shoulders tense slightly, his expression growing unreadable. Without missing a beat, Lorenzo observes Damian's reaction, his smirk hinting at an unspoken understanding as he excuses himself.
“I'll leave you two to it. Enjoy your meal. It was nice to meet you, love,” he says, offering a knowing nod before walking away.
The meeting is long and fucking dreadful. His critiques are harsher than usual, picking apart my ideas and pointing out flaws I hadn't anticipated. It feels like he's going out of his way to challenge me. He's unspokenly drawing that line between us, shutting down what has happened these past few weeks.
I bite my lip, trying to contain any witty comebacks and maintain my composure. If he wants to be a dick about it, fine. If this is how he wants to draw that line, that’s fine too. I’m not stooping to his level. There’s no denying that a lingering sense of unease has settled over our meeting, making it hard to concentrate. It's as if the electrifying chemistry we share is now sparking in a different, more volatile direction. Finally, we manage to wrap up the meeting, and he doesn't waste a moment before rising from his seat.
“We're done here. I have to go,” he says curtly, getting up from his chair and walking away.
I quickly stand and grab my purse, following after him, and somehow manage to catch up to him in these uncomfortable heels. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”
He refuses to look at me, and keeps walking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“ Ha . Honestly, Damian, you’re a lot of things, but I never thought being a coward was one of them.”
He stops dead in his tracks, snapping his cold green eyes to mine. Honestly, out of all the looks he’s had, this one is the most intimidating. There’s not an ounce of feelings, or spark for that matter, behind those eyes. “Forgive me for trying to keep a professional boundary,” he replies coldly.
“We’re way past that and you know it,” I retort.
He looks sideways and lets out a tired sigh, scrubbing his face with his left hand. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he replies with a resigned tone.
My shoulders stiffen at his resigned tone, my heart drops in the pit of my stomach. That’s the thing, I don’t know what I want from him, but it’s definitely not this.
Letting out a shaky breath, I whisper, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” and then walk away from him.