36. Aria
36
ARIA
I lie beside Dion and stare at the ceiling.
We’re both still coming down from our orgasms, and I feel a swirl of emotions in my chest. There’s so much on my mind.
When Dion first suggested I take control, I didn’t know where to even start. I was about to reject the idea, not wanting to even give it a chance, but I’m glad that he insisted.
My heart pounds with exhilaration and triumph. I’m intoxicated by the rush of empowerment.
I did it.
I took charge, and it felt…incredible.
Dion turns toward me, his eyes reflecting admiration and pride. His words still echo in my mind, and I realize how pivotal his support was.
Without his encouragement and belief in me, I wouldn’t have had the guts to step out of my comfort zone.
He was right all along— I need to take charge of my life, not just in the bedroom, but in every aspect. For too long, I’ve been doubting my own abilities, convinced that I don’t have what it takes to stand up for myself. I just proved myself wrong.
He reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “ I’m proud of you, astéri mou. ”
I smile at him. “ Thank you for seeing something in me that I hadn’t.”
He places his palm on my bare chest. “ You always had it in you, Aria . When we first met, you had a spark that no one could dim. That was the real you. This isn’t. You just needed a reminder.”
My smile widens, and I lean over to kiss him softly. As I pull back, I get lost in the warmth in his eyes. I’m so screwed . How am I ever going to say goodbye to him again?
Dion’s confidence in my ability to assert my dominance gave me the strength to embrace a side of myself I never knew existed. The way he responded to me, his trust and willingness to follow my lead, made all the difference.
I didn’t know what to expect for my first time doing anal. I won’t deny that it was a little uncomfortable, but Dion made me feel good. He always does.
As our eyes meet, the spark ignites again, the attraction and the delicious tension back like they never left.
“ I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” Dion admits.
“ Me neither,” I respond, dread filling me for what’s to come. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I can’t risk being caught. Not until I figure out what to do with Andrew .
I take a deep, controlled breath. “ We can’t keep doing this, though,” I add, sounding like a broken record. I brace myself for Dion’s reaction. I know he won’t take it well. Hell , I’m even tired of hearing myself repeat the same thing over and over.
Dion and I are tangled in this web that I keep swearing we won’t fall into again.
We find ourselves drawn together, pulled by a force we both pretend to resist but never really do.
Before I know it, our hands and lips are exploring familiar territory.
It’s intoxicating and intense, and in those moments, everything else fades away.
However , the aftermath comes with the inevitable weight of reality.
After a few seconds of silence, Dion nods. “ I know.”
My heart pounds in my chest. What ?
“ You ...you agree?” I stammer. My eyes search his face for any hint that he might be bluffing, but all I see is a determined calm.
He nods slowly, his gaze steady. “ Yes , I agree. You need to focus on yourself right now, on getting better. You need to learn to cope without the drugs and alcohol, and I don’t want to be a distraction.”
Cold shock courses through my veins, and I feel my throat tighten. His fingers entwine with mine, warm and reassuring, yet his grip is gentle, as if he’s afraid of hurting me.
“ I’ll always be here for you,” Dion murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “ I’ll always need you, and I’ll always want to be with you. But I can’t get in the way of your well-being.
He cups my cheek; his thumb tracing circles on my skin. “ This is something you have to do for yourself. And it’s more important than anything.”
Even though this is what needs to be done, what’s right, I can’t help the tears that well in my eyes. I blink them away furiously. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch tender.
I nod slowly in understanding, even though it breaks my heart. “ Okay ,” I murmur, my voice cracking. “ Okay .” I can’t manage any other words, but he doesn’t push.
Dion takes a deep breath, his hand slipping from my cheek to rest on the bed between us. “ In the meantime,” he continues, a hint of steel entering his voice. “ I’ll focus on Andrew and getting rid of him. I’ve already started a plan to take him down.”
“ I know,” I admit, my voice shaking. Dion’s eyes widen in surprise.
“ How do you know?”
“ Dimitri told me.”
Dion’s expression softens, and he lets out a rough sigh. “ Of course. Dimitri .” He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me in a protective embrace. “ What did he tell you?”
“ He told me about our father’s intentions to make Andrew his heir. And that he’s been keeping in touch with you for the past year. He didn’t give me specifics of the plan, though.”
Dion nods. “ We will eliminate him one way or another,” he promises.
I bury my face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing my frayed nerves. “ I trust you,” I whisper, my voice muffled against his skin. “ I trust you with everything.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering there. “ When you’re ready,” he murmurs, “when you feel like you’ve taken hold of your life again, I’ll be there to pick up all the pieces and help you mend yourself back together.”
We lie there in silence, the weight of his promise settling between us, binding us together even as we prepare to part.
A couple hours and a full stomach later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Dion’s car.
I watch the streets blur past the window, a knot tightening in my chest with every mile that takes us closer to my estate. The sun is setting, casting long, golden shadows across the landscape, though the beauty of it is lost on me. I don’t want to leave Dion’s house. I’m safe there, almost like it’s my real home. I never feel that way in my own place anymore, where the air is thick with hostility and my reality presses down on me.
Dion’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he drives, glancing over at me with concern. I take a deep breath, trying to steady the unease bubbling inside me. “ How are you doing?” Dion asks, breaking the silence.
I hesitate, my gaze fixed on the horizon. “ Better ,” I manage to say before looking over at him. “ Still a bit out of it, but...better.” My head is clearer than it was yesterday—the drugs and alcohol are finally out of my system—but I can still feel the ghost of the hangover clutching at my temples, reminding me of my reckless choices.
He nods, his eyes shadowed, and I can tell he’s going over what happened in his head. I can still hear the raw panic in his voice when I came to, the terror as he held me, shaking me, pleading with me to wake up.
“ You really scared me, Aria . You almost died in my arms.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow it down. “ I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He glances at me again, his grip tightening on the wheel. “ My mama ,” he begins, and I notice how his voice wavers. “ She died of an overdose. I was five. Found her in her bedroom, cold and lifeless.”
The pain in his eyes slices through me. “ Dion , I? —”
“ Seeing you like that,” he continues, “it was like reliving that nightmare. I can’t lose you, Aria . Not like that. Not in the same way I lost her.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back, reaching out to touch his arm. “ I never meant to put you through that. I’m sorry. I was just trying to escape...everything. For a while, at least.”
He covers my hand with his, squeezing gently. “ I get it. But you have to find another way. Please . Not for me. You need to get better for yourself.”
The car falls silent, except for the thrum of the engine and the distant sounds of the city drawing nearer. I lean back in the seat, his words settling over me. The thought of leaving him, where I feel sheltered and cared for, fills me with dread. But I know he’s right. I can’t keep running from my problems this way.
After a moment, I find the courage to ask, “ What about your father? What happened to him?”
Dion’s face tightens, a shadow crossing his eyes. “ He was killed in a drive-by,” he says quietly. “ Wrong place, wrong time. He was involved in some shady business, as all mob men are, and he was caught in the crossfire when a job took a bad turn.”
I nibble on my lip. “ That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
He nods, his jaw clenching. “ His death was what led my mother to do what she did. She couldn’t handle it.”
A deep sadness fills me. “ I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you. I’m so sorry she couldn’t be strong enough for you.”
Dion’s grip on the wheel loosens slightly, and he looks over at me with a mixture of pain and understanding. “ She was broken, Aria . Just like you feel sometimes. But you don’t have to give up like she did.”
His words hit me hard, and tears brim in my eyes. I can empathize with his mother’s feelings, being in a situation where it seems like there’s no way out. But hearing Dion’s story has made me realize I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to cause that kind of pain to those who care about me.
We pull up to my estate and Dion parks the car. He turns to me, his expression softening, before reaching toward the back seat and holding out a small package.
“ What’s this?” I ask, taking it from him.
“ Open it,” he says quietly.
I tear off the wrapping and find a plain, black phone inside. “ A phone?”
“ It’s a burner,” he explains. “ Only I have the number. Just in case Andrew is keeping an eye on your texts and calls. If you need anything, use this.”
I slip the phone into my pocket, feeling a newfound sense of security. “ Okay , I will.”
“ You can always come back to my place if you need to. You’re always welcome there.”
I nod, fighting back tears. “ Thank you, Dion . For everything.”
He leans over and kisses my forehead, his lips warm and comforting against my skin. “ Take care of yourself, okay? Promise me.”
“ I promise,” I whisper, hoping that I can find the strength to keep it. “ Friends ?” I add with a hollow laugh, an acknowledgement to the first day we met.
Dion smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “ Just friends.”
Days later, I stand in front of a beige-brick building, my heart racing in my chest. Something coils in my stomach. I’ve never been here before.
I’ve been telling myself that this is a good step, a necessary step. But now that I’m here, the enormity of it all overwhelms me.
I clutch onto the pamphlet clenched in the palm of my hand.
This is it. My first Cognitive Behavioral Therapy session with my new therapist.
I glance up at the sign by the door. Clinical Psychology is written in neat, black letters that seem to mock my indecision. My feet are glued to the pavement, and I can’t bring myself to take that final step inside. What if they judge me? What if I can’t open up? What if this doesn’t help?
Taking a deep breath, I try to steady myself. I remind myself why I’m here, why I’ve decided to seek help. The panic attacks, the constant worrying, the nights spent staring at the ceiling with a mind that refuses to quiet down…what led me to take drugs. I can’t keep living like this. I need to do this for myself, even if the thought of facing my demons head-on is terrifying.
I take out my phone, check the time, even though I know I’m early. Fifteen minutes. I have fifteen minutes to gather the courage to walk through those doors. Leaning against the cool brick wall, I close my eyes for a moment.
Inhale . Exhale .
Inhale . Exhale .
It’s a small comfort, but it helps.
People pass by me, absorbed in their own worlds, probably not even noticing the girl who can’t seem to enter a building. I wonder if any of them have felt this way before. If any of them know how hard it is to take the first step toward getting better.
The door suddenly opens, and a woman comes out. She glances at me briefly, offering a polite smile before walking away. For some reason, that small interaction gives me a sliver of hope. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe the doctor will be kind, understanding, and patient. Maybe they’ll be able to help me untangle the mess inside my head.
I straighten up, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. The knot in my stomach loosens just a little. I can do this. I have to do this. For me. For Dion . I made him a promise, and I’m going to see it through.
I take a step forward, then another. Before I know it, I’m pushing the door open and going inside.
After a few minutes in the waiting area, a beautiful, tall woman greets me with a warm smile. “ You must be Aria .”
I nod, managing a small smile in return.
“ I’m Dr . Esther Goode . It’s lovely to meet you.”