Chapter 4 The Invitation

The next morning, Damien was already waiting.

His mornings were usually predictable-business meetings, endless calls, and deals that required every ounce of his focus. But today, nothing felt as sharp as it should. Every time he tried to focus on work, his thoughts wandered back to her.

The way she smiled without giving anything away. The way her voice slid under his skin like silk laced with barbed wire. He didn't like not knowing someone. He didn't like being left in the dark.

And yet, here she was-an unsolvable puzzle.

By the time noon rolled around, he'd made a decision.

"Invite her," Damien said, leaning back in his leather chair.

His assistant, Jordan, blinked at him. "Who?"

"Aria," he replied, as if it were obvious. "Find out where she lives and send her an invitation to tonight's gala."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "The charity event? It's a black-tie, closed list-"

"I know what it is," Damien cut in, his tone cool. "Add her name."

Jordan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Right away."

Damien smirked faintly. He wasn't a man who begged for someone's presence, but Aria wasn't like anyone else. He wanted to see her again-wanted to see how she'd react when thrown into his world.

The invitation arrived by courier that afternoon.

I opened the envelope slowly, my lips curving upward when I read the words inside:

Damien Blackwell cordially invites you to join him at the Blackwell Foundation Charity Gala, 7 p.m. tonight.

I couldn't help but laugh softly. Persistent man.

I set the card down and sipped my coffee, staring out the window. I'd expected this. From the moment I saw the hunger in his eyes yesterday, I knew he wouldn't leave me alone.

Good.

I wanted him closer.

I picked up my phone and dialed the number he'd called me from last night.

When his phone rang and Aria's name appeared on the screen, Damien felt a surge of satisfaction.

"Aria," he said smoothly, answering on the second ring.

"Did you send me an invitation?" she asked.

"Would you rather I come pick you up myself?"

There was a pause. He could almost picture her smile through the line.

"You don't waste time, do you?"

"Not when I see something I want," he replied.

"And what do you want, Damien?" Her tone was soft, teasing, but something about it made his pulse quicken.

He leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly. "Come tonight. Maybe you'll find out."

The line went dead, and I stared at my phone for a long moment, a smirk creeping onto my face.

"This is going to be fun," I whispered to myself.

I already knew I'd go.

But not for the reasons he thought.

By evening, I stood before my mirror, adjusting the black satin gown that clung to my figure like liquid shadow. I traced a line of red lipstick across my lips, the color as sharp as a blade.

He wanted me in his world?

Fine. I'd play the part.

The gala was already alive with soft music and murmurs when Damien arrived, but his attention wasn't on the crowd, the photographers, or the polished guests.

It was on the woman who stepped through the doors twenty minutes later.

She was devastating. The room seemed to slow when she walked in, the black gown wrapping around her curves like it had been made just for her. Her hair was pinned up, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and the flash of her red lips sent a sharp pang through his chest.

She found him instantly, her gaze catching his across the room.

And just like that, he couldn't look anywhere else.

"Mr. Blackwell," she said as he approached, her tone smooth, polite, but her eyes glinting with something sharper.

"Aria," he said, taking her hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles, never breaking eye contact. "You look..." He paused, his smile faint. "Dangerous."

She tilted her head. "That's a strange compliment."

"It's not meant to be."

The night passed in a blur of champagne, whispered conversations, and subtle glances. Damien introduced her to people-business moguls, politicians, socialites-but every time someone else tried to hold her attention, his chest tightened.

She was magnetic. Everyone saw it. But he wanted her attention on him.

Aria

By the time dessert was served, I'd learned two things.

One: Damien liked control. He walked into every room like he owned it, and maybe he did.

Two: He couldn't stand not having all of someone's attention.

That would be his weakness.

I sipped my wine and smiled at him over the rim of the glass, watching the subtle tension in his jaw when I looked away for too long.

"You're quiet tonight," he said suddenly, leaning closer.

"Just watching," I replied. "Your world is... interesting."

"And you're not afraid of it?"

"Should I be?" I asked, smiling faintly.

His lips curved. "Maybe."

As the night drew to a close, Damien walked me to the waiting car.

"Dinner was good," I said softly, "but this was... something else."

"Will I see you again?" he asked.

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Maybe."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine, and for a second, I saw the fire in his eyes-the hunger, the curiosity, the need to possess.

And I smiled.

"Goodnight, Damien," I said, slipping into the car.

The door shut, and the car drove off, but Damien stood there for a long time, his thoughts tangled.

Aria wasn't just a mystery anymore. She was a challenge.

And he had no intention of losing.

As the city lights blurred past the window, I leaned back against the leather seat, my lips curling into a slow smile.

"Yes, Damien," I whispered to myself. "Chase me." - Aria.

*Every step closer to him was another step toward his destruction.*