39. Chapter Aria
T o say this morning has been insane is an understatement. The caterer will be an hour later than agreed and apparently two of their servers called in sick, so they’ll probably be short staffed on top of it.
I can feel the panic sneaking in, but I won’t let it get to me. This day is too important, and we’ve worked so damn hard to get here, I’m not letting anything ruin this.
Looking around to ground myself, I try to focus on the things I can see around me and take a deep breath as I try to redirect my focus far away from my anxiety. The first thing I focus on is my desk. It’s a little messy, considering I’ve been working nonstop.
I take a deep breath .
Looking at my hands next, I focus on the nail color. Sophia convinced me to get them done for the gala and I decided to do this delicate nude pink color. It’s a nice color, I guess.
I take another deep breath.
Last thing I focus on is the floor to ceiling window behind me that overlooks the city buildings and Lake Michigan. It’s a nice, sunny day and the lake looks beautiful.
I take one last deep breath.
My breathing has significantly calmed down as a knock on my door takes me out of my trance.
I shake my head, already feeling much better. “Come in.”
Isabella pops in her head. “Hey, what are you still doing here? You need to go get ready!”
“But—”
“I don’t want to hear it. I’ll take care of whatever’s left. Leave, now ,” she says before shutting the door.
That’s Isabella for you. Very bossy.
I grab my things and walk out of the gallery quickly because she’s right, I do need to get ready. The last thing I need is to arrive late at our own gala.
Arriving at my apartment, I text Sophia to let her know I’m home since she’s going to come over and style my hair. I take off my shoes as I walk toward my bedroom, then drop them in front of my bedroom door, too exhausted and late to care about making a mess .
Opening the door, I glance at my bed, where a black matte box sits with a note on top of it. I furrow my brows as I get closer, picking up the note.
The perfect dress for my Darling.
– Damian
As I open the box, I carefully lift the tissue paper that’s wrapping the delicate fabric. Picking it up carefully, my eyes roam the dress, excitement flooding through me. The strapless layered red dress is made out of mesh fabric, and it flows naturally, giving it airy delicate layers. It’s simple and elegant all at once. It’s perfect.
Me: Thank you for the dress. It’s lovely.
Damian: No need to thank me. After all, I get to be the one to rip it off of you later.
Me: Smooth.
Damian: Always.
A laugh escapes me. He’s such a shameless flirt and so unserious half of the time. If people knew the real Damian, they’d be shocked. He’s funny, kind, and protective. I’ve never felt so cared for and safe around someone.
Sophia arrives a few minutes later and styles my hair as I do my makeup. She’s quieter than normal, which is so strange. She’s my best friend and I love her, but boy can that girl talk.
“Are you okay?” I frown.
“Ye–No. Not really. Fucking work,” she sighs, “our editor dropped the stolen painting piece. He said there wasn’t any point in pursuing it since it’s been so long and it already fizzled out.”
“Did you make a lot of progress already?”
She slumps her shoulders. “Not really. That painting did disappear off the face of the earth, and when I tried to contact the lead Europol investigator, he shot me down so quickly.”
“Well, this is a big deal. He definitely can’t be sharing that information. You know that.”
She waves her hand around. “Blah, semantics.”
I turn around and grab her hand. “Plus, wasn’t this job temporary? Didn’t you say you wanted to start writing your own book series?”
She averts my gaze. “I’ve been so busy. I haven't had time. Anyway, let’s continue because you can’t be late.”
I hum, unconvinced. She has wanted to be a published author for years now. She’s been through a lot, which is why I try not to pressure her. I get it. But I’m going to have to pull a mom act soon, because I hate seeing her with a dead end job. She’s meant for so much more. She deserves more than life has given her. Most of the time, we need to create our own happy ending. Fight for it, too. And I get the feeling she’s giving up and lying to me, and I simply can’t allow that.
She finishes the last touches on my hair as I put on my usual red lipstick, that funny enough, is a perfect match for the dress. I glance at the clock, realizing that Damian is picking me up in about ten minutes, so I quickly get dressed and Sophia helps me with the zipper as I’m putting on my earrings and necklace.
“You look beautiful.” She beams.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I wink. “You and Isabella will be arriving together, right? Don’t be late. I’m not sure why you guys didn’t want to come with us. Damian got a limo, you know, because he’s extra.” I laugh.
“Nah, I’m fine. I’m going to pick up Isabella right now. I’ll see you there,” she says, giving me a quick hug before leaving.
Spraying some perfume on my wrist and the corners of my neck, I take one last glance in the mirror. Ever since I officially cut my mother out of my life, I’ve been rocking my curls nonstop. It’s one of the many things I’m grateful to Damian for. He slowly, but surely, has helped me feel more secure. His patience and kindness has little by little rebuilt my broken pieces that I never knew how to pick up by myself.
A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts, and as I walk to open the front door, anxiety suddenly floods through me. This gala is a really big deal. I’m talking there’s a red carpet, celebrities are attending, the whole nine yards. I can only hope I did the pieces some justice, because I really am proud of them. I’m just crossing my fingers that whatever mystery painting Damian has been keeping away from me is just as good.
Opening the door, my heart speeds up at the sight of Damian. He looks devastatingly handsome with a black tux that was tailored to hug his perfect broad shoulders and muscled thighs. His addicting masculine scent envelops me as he takes a step closer and kisses me.
He takes a step back, his eyes filling with heat. “You look… wow. There are no words. Perfetto.” Perfect .
My cheeks heat up because only he can make me blush over something so simple as a compliment.
“You ready?”
I nod as I pick up my clutch and walk out the door, grabbing his hand as we walk to the elevator.
It’s a busy Saturday night in the streets of the windy city, so we hit some traffic that hasn’t been moving for at least ten minutes.
“We’re going to be late,” I stress.
“No, we won’t. And if we are, it’s not like they can start the party without us.” He shrugs.
“How are you so relaxed? Oh, right, because you know what the statement piece is and I don't.” I roll my eyes.
He grabs my jawline softly as he kisses me. “I can think of a few ways to relax you,” he says with a sultry voice .
“Not here, are you crazy?” I whisper.
His eyes gleam with mischief. “The partition is up. He won’t hear anything. I told him to take the longer route, because there’s no way I can last all night looking at you in this fucking dress.”
His hand lands on my leg where the high slit is, and starts traveling upward as he raises his eyebrow, silently seeking permission. My core is throbbing already, because with his touch, I'm always on fire. I need his touch like I need air to breathe.
I nod with my eyes closed, trying to get my bearings.
His hand arrives at my already damp lacy underwear, and he places his thumb on my clit on top of it, moving it in taunting, slow, soft circles as he lets out a throaty groan.
“Tsk. You’re already so wet for me, Darling,” he whispers in my ear, nipping the lobe softly.
I let out a soft moan, and my body involuntarily moves seeking more pressure, because it’s not enough. I need so much more of him, to feel him, to feel his hands all over me. He keeps playing the taunting slow pace, though, knowing how crazy it drives me.
“Use your words, Aria. What do you want?” he says in a sultry whisper, moving the underwear to the side.
Two of his fingers easily slide inside of me with how wet and ready I am for him. There’s not much he needs to do to get me going, because I’ll always be ready for him. He’s addicting, and I always want to feel him. All of him .
“I want you inside of me,” I say through a moan.
His fingers are already feeling too good, but not enough. I want his cock. I want to be filled to the hilt by him.
“Get on all fours, now,” he demands.
I swiftly move, putting myself on all fours as he lifts my dress easily. He drops his head down in between my legs and licks my center in one fell swoop.
He growls, “So fucking sweet.”
This man melts my insides with his sultry, demanding voice. It’s like he knows exactly what I need to hear.
He gets his knees on the seat as he quickly unbelts his pants, dropping them halfway down.
“We’re almost there, so this is going to be quick. You up for the challenge, Darling?” he says, moving his hard, throbbing cock up and down between my folds, coating it with my wetness.
I nod frantically as I push back, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of me. The need is so desperate, my body feels like an inferno.
He thrusts inside of me in one fell swoop, and the feel of his cock inside of me, filling me up, is too much in the best possible way. An involuntary moan escapes my lips as he starts moving.
“Look at you, taking my cock so well,” he whispers as he kisses my neck, sliding his cock all the way out, then rapidly sliding it in with such delicious force .
“Oh, fuck…” That's all I manage to say as I place a hand on top of my mouth to stop my moans.
He slaps my hand away as he drops his lips next to my ear.
With a growl, he says, “Don’t you dare stop those sweet moans of yours. I want to hear you scream as my cock fills you up. Now, be a good girl and scream my name.”
I nod frantically as I meet each of his punishing thrusts, moaning his name.
He’s fucking mercilessly with such delicious force that I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. There’s nothing sweet or delicate about this. He’s fucking me with everything he can muster, and I’m enjoying every inch and thrust he gives me. It’s rough; animalistic; needy, dirty.
I roll my eyes back as his cock starts hitting that sensitive spot inside of me, my orgasm sneaking up on me, and I’m left in a haze and moan as my pussy grips him.
He lets out a groan as he brings me closer to him, my back pressed against his chest. As I’m riding my orgasm, Damian’s thrust becomes more frantic and sloppy. After a few punishing thrusts, he tenses as I feel his warmth filling me up.
“Fuck,” he groans, slipping out of me and kissing me.
As I’m trying to catch my breath, I ask, “How do I look? ”
“Freshly fucked.” He winks as he takes some napkins from the snack bar and cleans me before adjusting my underwear and dress.
I shake my head with a laugh at his response.
We arrive at the gallery a few minutes later, and walk the red carpet as we get our pictures taken, then head inside quickly because I’m a bundle of nerves and I can’t wait to see the end result.
My chest tightens with excitement as I look around. We kept the decorations simple, because the point is for the paintings to stand out and, boy, they fucking do. While the room is warm with soft yellow lighted candles, all paintings have overhead white lights, making them all stand out on their own with their bright, alluring colors.
On the other side of the gallery is the open bar. There are tables scattered all over the place with white and gold linen, as well as a dance floor because we wanted to make sure the guests had a nice time. This is better than I could have imagined, but over my dead body am I doing this again.
All the paintings we’ve carefully chosen throughout these few months are all standing out on their own, shining brightly and giving the space a sense of comfort and elegance. The only thing I’m missing is the statement piece. That specific painting, we decided was going to be at the end of the gallery by itself, right in the center of a white wall that would help people focus on it .
Damian places his hand on my waist and guides me to the center of the gallery. “I have something to show you.”
We’re walking to the back of the gallery, to go see the statement piece, I assume. There are people walking and chatting in front of us, so it’s hard to see the painting from afar. As we get closer, my heartbeat quickens, an urge of nervousness taking over me and a wave of nausea swirling my body, wanting nothing more than to come out.
“Damian, what the fuck is this?” I whisper, my voice trembling.
I don’t know why I ask the question, because I know exactly what it is. It’s one of my paintings.
There’s one of my paintings in this gallery.
In this very full, busy gallery.
Oh My God, I’m going to kill Damian. Yes. That’s it. I can already see the headlines— Psycho much? Curator Aria Petrov murders billionaire Damian Romano .
He stands in front of me, grabbing both of my shoulders and squeezing them. “Are you upset?”
I gape at him. “I’m more than upset. I could kill you right now. Is this some sort of sick joke?”
He shakes his head. “No. Aria. You’re talented, and I think it’s time for you to realize it. I’m sorry if this was the wrong way to go about it, but if I had to do it again, I would.”
“How did you even…?”
“Sophia helped me. ”
“Sophia is a very dead woman, is what she is,” I retort.
He grabs my cheek, caressing it softly. “ Tesoro , it’s okay. This is good. When I told you you were talented, I wasn’t kidding. It was the perfect painting to tie the collection together.”
My heart stabs my rib, and my hands are sweating profusely. I painted this exact painting thinking about the collection we had so carefully put together. But this is not fucking okay. I’m far from okay.
Why am I so upset? Would it really be that bad if people see my painting? It’s not like they know who did it. My signature is not even there.
The realization hits me like a strong wave crashing against me.
I’m not upset. I’m embarrassed.
I’m embarrassed because I never thought I was good enough to hang a painting in a gallery, much less a gallery like this one. Because it’s like I’m a kid all over again, excited to show my mother my very first painting. Remembering her stabbing words, the way she dismissed something I love like it was… nothing .
But this is not nothing. I can’t let my mother dictate how I live my life anymore. I can’t let her take this moment away from me. If I do, then there was no point in cutting her out of my life for good. I need to cut her from the root, starting with those hurtful words. Starting by accepting that I deserve this. Accept for once that I’m talented enough to have my painting hanging at a gallery and let people admire my art. Art was made to share, after all.
Anger floods through me now, but not at the situation or at Damian. I’m angry with myself, because I’ve brushed this part of my life as an useless hobby, as something unimportant. But art— my art— is more than important. It’s a part of me . My art is all of me; the good, the bad, and the ugly.
My throat tightens, and the words are hard to put together because I’m hit with so much emotion. “Thank you,” I manage to say above a whisper.
He hugs me tightly. “You don’t have to thank me. You are good enough. Tesoro , you have no idea how good you are. I’ve wanted nothing but to tell you this since the day we walked out on your mother. You are selfless; kind; dedicated.” His forehead meets mine, our eyes holding each other’s gaze.
He grabs my cheek and caresses it, softly. “There’s a fire in you that I never want to see put out by anyone. You deserve this. You deserve the whole fucking world. So let me give it to you.”
His voice is hoarse now, his eyes filled with an emotion I can’t place. I’m at a loss of words because no one has ever done something like this for me. He brushes his thumb against my damp cheek. “I love you,” he whispers hoarsely.
My heart bursts open with a thousand emotions. Surprise; relief; happiness. Because goddammit, I’ve fallen in love. And I’ve fallen in love hard , with the last person I thought possible.
I close the distance between us with a kiss, tuning out everything happening around us. All I can see is him, standing here, in front of me. A man that’s so much more than the coldhearted asshole everyone thinks he is. Because I see a completely different side of Damian. A man who, just like me, had broken pieces he needed help picking up. And God, I’m here to pick them up for him for the rest of my days, until my last breath. Put them together one by one, like he has done with mine.
I break the kiss as I look into his eyes containing so much longing and emotion. I get lost in them for a moment, because that’s what he does to me. He envelops me, becoming my weakness. Funny thing is, I’ve always felt stronger by his side. There’s no other place I would rather be than here.
I place my hand on his jawline, brushing it softly with my hand. “Damian, I—”
“Damian Romano?” a male voice behind me interrupts.
“Yes?” Damian answers, looking up to address the man.
As I turn around, the man lifts his FBI badge as he walks toward Damian. “You’re under arrest for possession of stolen property,” he says as he grabs Damian’s arms, putting them behind his back.
“What?” Damian asks, confused.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything— ”
“This has to be a mistake,” Damian interrupts.
The agent places the handcuffs, ignoring Damian as he continues, “You say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You—”
I interrupt this time, “Sir, I think—”
He continues to ignore us as he continues, “Have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Let’s go,” he finishes as he pushes Damian toward the exit.
My eyes fill with tears as I run after them.
Isabella is hot on my heels, trying to get a sense of the situation. “What is happening?”
I’m hyperventilating, breathing becoming harder and harder with every second that passes. “I-I-I don’t know. One second w-we were talking and th-then…” I can’t finish the sentence, my words caught between sobs and the need to breathe.
Isabella takes her phone out, firing out some texts, to Matteo or his lawyers, I suppose. “It’s okay, Ari. Everything will be okay.”
Then why do I have the feeling everything will be far from okay?
I haven’t slept one bit, just going through the motions these past seventy-two hours. Right after they took Damian, I went into panic resolution mode. The gala had to be canceled, obviously, and Isabella contacted Damian’s lawyer as soon as the agent walked out that door with him in handcuffs. As soon as everyone was out of the gallery, I went to the station to try to find out more information, but of course, they refused. He also wasn’t allowed any visitors except for his lawyer. The first twenty-four hours was all of us—Isabella, Lorenzo, Matteo, and even Sophia—who showed up at some point when everyone else had gone home. I was the only one that refused to. I stayed there, in my gown, my eyes swollen from all the crying and confusion. Granted, Sophia was there mostly for emotional support and trying to get me to eat or drink anything, which I didn’t do. That dread in the pit of my stomach simply didn’t allow me to.
Sophia and Isabella pretty much forced me to go home to get some sleep and a much-needed shower about a day and a half in. They insisted so much I caved in, not that I got any sleep anyway.
And now, we’re here. I’ve been pacing back and forth outside of the station as Liam—Damian’s lawyer—is inside, waiting for him to come out. I’m a blubbering mess. The press has been lurking around trying to find why he got arrested, because the information has been kept under wraps .
Liam has been nothing but vague at providing any further information, so I still don’t exactly know why he got arrested. For stolen property, right, but what exactly are they claiming he stole? I’m trying not to spiral right now, because he’s walking out of that door at any moment, but I am hanging by a thread. Do I think he did anything? Honestly, I don’t know.
You do know. Come on, Aria, it’s Damian we’re talking about. He wouldn’t do anything like this.
I just have a feeling of dread I can’t pinpoint, but can’t seem to shake nonetheless. All I know is that I trust him, and I trust that he’s a good person. All that he has shown me these past months has been nothing but kindness and patience.
And Love. So much love.