Claimed Forever

The penthouse felt colder than usual that night.

Aria stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, arms wrapped around herself, still wearing the black dress from the summit. Rain had started again... soft, persistent... streaking the glass like slow tears. She hadn't turned on any lights. The city glowed beyond the window in muted blues and golds, indifferent to the ache in her chest.

Her phone buzzed on the marble counter behind her.

She didn't look.

She already knew who it was.

The first text had come ten minutes after Ethan dropped her off.

Damien: We're not done.

Damien: Come back to the office.

Damien: Or I come to you.

Then silence... for thirty-seven minutes.

Then the flood began.

Damien: Your slap was nothing to me.

Damien: And crying on that commoner's shoulder?

Damien: You think that changes anything?

Damien: It doesn't.

Damien: You still taste like me.

Damien: You still come for me.

Damien: Talk to me, Aria.

Damien: I'm waiting baby.

She powered the phone off.

Set it face-down.

Walked to the bedroom and tried to sleep it off but couldn't.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his hand under the table... slow circles on her clit while the audience leaned forward, hanging on her words. She saw her own face on the live feed... composed at first, then cracking, stammering, flushing. She saw Ethan's note crumpled in her fist, useless now.

She saw Damien's eyes when she slapped him... burning, regretful, possessive.

She rolled onto her side.

Curled into herself.

The phone buzzed again... somehow, even powered off, the vibration seemed louder.

She ignored it.

Morning came gray and heavy.

Voss Tower felt like a trap.

The lobby security nodded too politely. The elevator ride was silent except for her breathing. When the doors opened on the executive floor, heads turned... quick glances, then away.

Victor Kane waited outside her office.

Silver hair gleaming under the fluorescents, suit immaculate, smile thin as a blade.

"Aria," he said warmly... too warmly. "A word?"

She didn't stop walking.

He fell into step beside her.

"Yesterday's panel was... illuminating," he continued. "The audience noticed the... inconsistency. Shareholders are asking questions. They wonder if you're fully focused."

She unlocked her office door.

"I'm focused."

"Are you?" Victor leaned against the frame...casual, blocking her escape. "The waterfront parcel is stalling. The board is restless. Perhaps a temporary advisory committee would help. Share the load. Ease the pressure."

She turned... slow... met his eyes.

"I don't need help carrying what's mine."

Victor's smile didn't waver.

"Of course not. But perception matters. And right now, perception is that you're distracted. Emotionally compromised. A united front would silence the whispers."

He stepped closer... lowered his voice.

"Marcus and I have discussed it. A stronger partnership. A clearer chain of command."

She felt the implication like ice water.

"Get out, now."

Victor raised both hands... mock surrendering.

"Just thinking of the company, Aria. Your father would want stability."

He walked away... unhurried... leaving the door open.

She slammed it.

Leaned against it and breathed. hard!

Her phone... now powered on... lit up with new messages.

Damien: I'm downstairs.

Damien: Come talk.

Damien: Or I come up.

Damien: You know I will.

She deleted the thread.

Blocked the number.

Tried to work as possible as she could but couldn't.

Every email felt like noise. Every spreadsheet looked like a trap. She paced... heels clacking... then sat, stared at the wall.

Lunch came and went.

She didn't eat.

At 3:17 p.m., the intercom buzzed.

Her assistant's voice... hesitant.

"Ms. Voss? Mr. Blackwood is here. He says it's urgent."

"Tell him I'm in a meeting."

A pause.

"He's... insisting."

"Tell him no."

Another pause.

"He's walking past me."

The door opened without knocking.

Damien filled the frame... charcoal suit rumpled now, sleeves rolled, gray eyes stormy.

She stood.

"Get out."

He closed the door behind him.

Locked it.

"We need to talk."

"No. We don't."

He stepped closer.

"You blocked me."

"Yes."

"You cried on his shoulder yesterday, you let him drive you home, Aria."

She lifted her chin.

"And?"

His jaw ticked.

"And you think that erases everything?"

She laughed... short, bitter.

"There's nothing to erase. You broke it. You broke us."

He moved faster than she expected... hand cupping her jaw, thumb pressing her lower lip.

"You're still mine."

She slapped his hand away.

"Touch me again and I'll scream."

He stepped back... hands raised... but eyes never left hers.

"You're running," he said quietly. "But you can't run from what's inside you."

She turned away... walked to the window.

"Leave."

He didn't.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She spun.

"Then I will."

She grabbed her coat, purse... stormed past him.

He caught her wrist... gentle this time.

"Aria... "

She yanked free.

"Don't."

She walked out... fast... heels echoing down the hallway.

Heads turned again.

She didn't care this time.

Elevator then, Lobby then... the Street.

Rain again... harder now.

She walked... fast... head down, ignoring the stares, the umbrellas, the honks.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket... new number, unknown.

She knew it was him.

She powered it off again.

Kept walking.

Blocks blurred.

Until she stopped... breathing hard... outside a small café she used to go to with him.

She stared at the window table.

Remembered those soft mornings.

Cider.

His thumb on her ankle.

She turned away... fast... almost running.

Back to the tower. Up the elevator. Into her office.

Locked the door.

Sat at her desk.

Head in her hands.

The phone... powered on again... lit with one final message.

Damien: You can run all day.

Damien: But you'll be right back.

Damien: You always do.

She stared at the screen.

Tears slipped free... silent.

Then she deleted it.

Blocked the new number.

Tried to breathe, pace by pace.

But the pull was there... deep, insistent... like a hook lodged in her ribs.

She stood.

Walked to the window.

Looked down at the street.

Saw his black SUV idling at the curb.

Saw him inside... watching up at her window.

She stepped back... out of sight.

Pressed her forehead to the glass.

Whispered to the empty room:

"I can't keep doing this."

But even as she said it, she felt the lie.

Downstairs, Damien sat in the driver's seat...engine off... eyes fixed on her floor.

His phone buzzed.

It was Marcus.

He answered.

Marcus's voice... low, calm.

"She's slipping further. Hale is circling. The board is moving. You need to lock this down."

Damien's grip tightened on the wheel.

"I will."

A pause.

Marcus's tone sharpened.

"Tonight. No more games. Remind her who owns her. Before she forgets."

Damien stared up at the darkened window.

His jaw locked.

"I won't let her forget, never."

He ended the call.

Started the engine.

But he didn't drive away.

He waited.

Because he knew... she would feel him down here.

And eventually... she would look.

And when she did...

He'd be ready.

 ***