The elevator ride to the top floor of Sinclair Enterprises felt like a funeral procession. Every floor number that lit up was a countdown to Aria's execution.
She clutched her portfolio so hard her knuckles turned white. Just give him the designs, she told herself. Get the approval, get the money, and get out.
The doors slid open.
The office was vast, cold, and smelled dangerously of him—rain, dark chocolate, and the sharp, ozone scent of a storm about to break.
Damien stood by the window, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his fist—the negative DNA results from yesterday. He stared at the city, his reflection looking tired and furious.
"You're early," he said, shoving the paper into his pocket as he turned. His voice was a low rumble, devoid of warmth.
"Time is money, Mr. Sinclair," Aria replied, keeping her voice steady. She walked to his desk and placed the portfolio down. "I have the sketches for the 'Eternal' collection."
Damien walked over, picked up the portfolio, and flipped it open. He looked at the first drawing. Then the second.
Rip.
The sound was shockingly loud.
Aria's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
Damien tore the page out, balled it up, and tossed it into the trash.
Rip. Rip.
"Stop!" Aria lunged forward, but Damien caught her wrist. His grip was iron.
"Garbage," he spat. "Science says you are a stranger, Ms. Vera. But these drawings? They are as lifeless as a corpse. I asked for passion!"
"Those were technically perfect!" Aria argued.
"I don't care about technique! I care about truth!" Damien roared, pulling her closer. "I am getting engaged to the most beautiful woman in New York. I want a ring that screams obsession. These look like they were drawn by a robot."
Aria flinched. "My personal life has nothing to do with my design skills."
"Doesn't it?" Damien lowered his head, sniffing the air around her neck. He was desperate to prove the DNA test wrong. He needed her to be Aria. Because if she wasn't, he was going insane. "You smell... empty, Vera. Like a lie."
He released her abruptly. "Sit down."
"I am leaving."
"I said sit down!" Damien's Alpha voice slammed into her. Aria's knees buckled. Her wolf instinctively obeyed. She sat.
"Since you don't understand chemistry," Damien said, pressing a button, "I have arranged a demonstration."
The door opened. Elena walked in, glowing in a dress that cost a fortune.
"Damien, darling," she purred, glancing at Aria with a sneer. "The help is still here?"
"She needs inspiration," Damien said, his eyes never leaving Aria's face. "Come here, Elena."
Elena happily walked into Damien's arms. He wrapped his arm around her waist and looked straight at Aria.
"Draw this," Damien ordered. "Capture the way a man looks at the woman he intends to claim."
Aria felt like she was swallowing glass. Her ex-husband, holding the woman who ruined everything.
"Damien, you're so romantic," Elena giggled.
"Draw," Damien barked.
Aria opened a fresh page. Her hand shook, but she forced herself to breathe. It's just a job. He is dead to me.
She began to sketch.
Damien played his part. He whispered to Elena, stroked her back. But every few seconds, his eyes flicked to Aria. He was hunting for a reaction. He wanted to see the mask crack.
Why won't she break? Damien thought furiously. Is she really a stranger? Or does she just hate me that much?
"Closer," Damien said. "Ms. Vera, come here."
Aria stood up and walked over. She stopped three feet away.
"Closer."
She stepped closer. She could smell them both.
"Look at her hand," Damien said, kissing Elena's ring finger—the spot where Aria's ring used to be. "This finger is bare. It's a tragedy."
Aria bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. "It's a standard finger size. Size six."
Damien dropped Elena's hand. His eyes flashed with anger. She feels nothing.
"Get out, Elena," Damien said abruptly.
Elena blinked. "What? But darling—"
"NOW."
Elena flinched, glared at Aria, and stormed out.
The air shifted. It was no longer a performance. It was a cage match.
"You are very good at hiding, Ms. Vera," Damien said, stalking toward her. He backed her up until her legs hit the desk, trapping her. "Most women would be jealous. You looked bored."
"I am a professional," Aria said, looking at his tie.
"Is that so?" Damien leaned in. "What if I do this?"
He brushed his nose against hers.
Aria stopped breathing. Her heart hammered. The mate bond roared.
"Your heart is racing," Damien whispered triumphantly, his thumb tracing her pulse. "You're not bored. You're terrified."
"I... I have anxiety," Aria stammered.
"Liar," Damien growled. "Science can say whatever it wants. But my wolf knows. You smell like her."
He was about to kiss her. He was going to prove she was his wife.
Ring Ring.
Aria's phone buzzed. The spell broke.
"Ignore it," Damien said.
"It might be an emergency." Aria ducked under his arm and scrambled away. She answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Aria!" It was Mrs. Gable, the neighbor watching the kids. She was sobbing.
Aria's blood ran cold. "What's wrong? Is it Leo?"
"It's Mia," the old woman wailed. "I turned my back for one minute. The door is open. She's gone, Aria! She ran away!"
Aria felt the room spin.
Mia. Three years old. With golden eyes and Damien's face. Alone in the city.
If Damien saw her... he wouldn't just know the truth. He would take her away. He would steal her baby.
"I'm coming," Aria whispered, terror gripping her throat.
"We aren't finished," Damien said, stepping forward. "Who was that?"
"Family emergency." Aria grabbed her bag. "I have to go."
"Vera, stop!"
But she didn't stop. She ran. She sprinted out of the office, fueled by the primal fear of a mother protecting her cub.
Please let her be safe, Aria prayed as the elevator doors closed. Please don't let him find her.
But downstairs, a tiny girl with golden eyes was already pushing open the heavy glass doors of the Sinclair Tower, sniffing the air with a determined scowl.