23. Chapter Aria
‘ Carry on Wayward Son ’ by Kansas blasts through my apartment as I pack for New York since we’re leaving in a matter of hours. My room is a mess and I don’t even know where I’m standing. Frustrated, I throw myself in bed to rest, except, I’m so uncomfortable because I have a pile of clothes and shoes in the bed after trying to come up with some decent outfits. It took forever, but I’m pleasantly surprised with my choices.
Why am I so nervous?
Uhm, jeez, I don’t know. Maybe because your boss kissed you and you’re kind of hoping it happens again?
I groan, murmuring some insults to myself. I’m fucking ridiculous. He’s not kissing me again, not after what happened. Having a panic attack after someone kisses you is a clear sign to not try it again. But the thing is… I want the exact opposite. To feel his strong hands roaming my body as he trails kisses from my lips, to my collarbone, my breasts…
I shake my head, trying to get the image out of my head. Closing my eyes for a moment, I let the music drift me away as I rest my eyes. Suddenly, someone jumps on top of me, startling me.
“Sophia Evans! You scared the fuck out of me! How did you even get in here?” I yell over the music.
She dangles my spare keys in front of me. “You gave me these, remember?” she yells back.
I glare at her as I get up off my bed to turn off the music. “Yes, for emergencies. Not for this!”
“Well, I knocked on the door, but the music was so loud you couldn’t hear me,” she replies with a duh tone.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I brought you the dress you asked me for,” she says, walking back to the living room.
I follow her. “Thank God. I honestly forgot.”
“Yeah, you seem distracted lately. Are you okay?” she asks, concern lacing her tone.
I’m far from good. I’m drowning in the uncertainty of the situation with Damian, my mother is coming next week, and I want to crawl out of my skin just thinking about it. The last thing I want is Sophia to worry about me, though. It’s better this way .
Always pushing people away. It’s what you do best.
I wave my dismissively. “Of course, I’m good.”
She hums with an I don’t believe you but I’ll drop it for now tone, and walks back to my bedroom, snooping in my suitcase. “Need any help with outfits?”
My shoulders sag with relief. “I think I’m good, actually.”
For the first time ever, I planned my outfits carefully. The only thing I was missing was the dress for the auction, but Sophia came to the rescue as always. My insides brim with excitement as I think about the trip. Outside of being near Damian, which I’m equally parts nervous and looking forward to, I love New York. The gastronomy and the museums are my favorite parts of the city, of course. We’re staying longer than a few days since he has some business there, so I already have an itinerary planned out. Let’s just hope that he doesn’t get any ideas to put me to work, because he already gave me the okay to take a couple of days off, and I’m taking all the advantage.
“How’s the article going?” I ask Sophia as I fold the dress neatly and place it in my open suitcase.
Sophia slumps her shoulders, sitting on the bed. “Please let’s not talk about it. It’s been driving me insane. Max has been drilling me to get it done, but the sources I find keep falling through. Everyone is being extremely cryptic about it.” She grabs her ponytail and starts playing with it. “Which, I mean, makes total sense. This heist was a big deal, you know? Honestly, this article shouldn’t be a thing, but hey, I’m just following orders.”
Humming in understanding, I sit next to her. “Yeah, I get it. Maybe he’ll drop it soon.”
“Maybe.” She waves her hand dismissively. “What about you? Are you planning to do any more kissing?” She wiggles her eyebrows, making kissing noises.
Grabbing my pillow, I throw it at her, blushing. “Shut up.”
After Sophia leaves, I’m brushing my hair, putting it in a messy bun when I hear a knock on the door. I put my brush away in my travel bag as I take one last look in the mirror, then walk to the front door and open it.
“I made it to the visitors' list, huh?” Damian asks with a playful smirk, leaning against the door frame.
I roll my eyes. “Shut up and come in. I’m almost ready.”
I try to act my normal self as he walks in, enveloping the room with his usual clean cedarwood scent that I’ve grown to obsess over. Walking to the kitchen, I ask, “Do you want anything?”
My loft is open floor, so the kitchen and living room are next to each other. I’ve hung some of my art all around to keep the place looking nice and alive. The living room has an L-shaped soft white sofa and a corner loveseat next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that I typically use to drink my tea and read.
He follows me to the kitchen and sits in one of the island chairs. “Nah, I’m good, thanks.”
I go to the refrigerator, welcoming the cold breeze on my cheeks. I don’t really need anything, but he has this talent for making me feel flustered when he’s near. And today is no exception. He has on gray sweatpants that leave nothing to the imagination, and a black hoodie. His curls are loose, and I’m not trying to read too much into it, but the fact that he’s been wearing his hair like that since I told him how much I like it makes my stomach turn with butterflies, like a stupid high school girl.
We decided to do a late flight, since we don’t really have anything pressing waiting for us at New York since the auction isn’t until Sunday night, and it’s only Friday.
I grab a bottle of water and sit next to him. “I thought you had to be ready at all times,” I joke as I look at him up and down.
He lets out a small laugh with a shrug. “We’re arriving at midnight. And it’s not like we’re going to a hotel or anything. Really, who’s gonna see me? I can enjoy comfort even once in a while.”
I take a big gulp of water, trying to avoid looking at how his sweatpants hug his strong legs and form the silhouette of his shaft. Seriously, gray sweatpants should be illegal to own. Might as well be fucking naked. “If we aren’t staying at a hotel, then where are we staying?”
“I have a condo near Central Park,” he says, getting up.
Why does the fact that we’re staying at his place make me feel some type of way? It feels… personal. The Damian I know wouldn’t do something like this. But he’s been different lately, showing another side of him that, well, I enjoy.
“Where are your bags?” he asks, getting me out of my trance.
It takes me a moment to reply, “In my room, let me go get them.”
He nods as I walk away, bringing my suitcase and work travel bag with me. He holds his hand out, offering to take my stuff. I nod as I give him my things, our hands touching for a brief moment. Without thinking, I take two steps back as the warmth of one simple touch electrifies me from the top of my fingers to the rest of my body in a millisecond. Shivers travel down my spine, making me stiff.
Maybe staying with him at his condo is not such a great idea. I’ll just get a hotel instead. That’s the logical thing to do.
So why am I hesitating to tell him that?
You know damn well why you’re hesitating.
I want nothing more than to spend more time with him, and try and discover where these feelings are coming from. So maybe, just maybe… being in such close quarters again is actually not a bad idea.
Make up your damn mind, woman.
We walk out of my apartment, and as I lock my door, I’m spiraling inside. It’s frustrating, not knowing why this is happening to me. But I’m nothing but determined to figure out the need to be near him, get to know him, and unravel those layers he has. I want all of him, I just don’t know where to begin.