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As the driver navigates through traffic, I try to relax, despite the nervous energy buzzing through me. Our conversation drifts from business to lighter topics, providing a welcome distraction.
When we finally arrive, Evander’s driver maneuvers the car up the driveway of the Kastellanos estate. He turns off the ignition and turns to us. “Here we are, gentlemen.”
Stepping out of the car, I straighten my suit jacket. I look to my side and see Evan doing the same. We make a fucking striking pair. Evan in a classic black tux, me in midnight blue.
As I step into the grand foyer of the mansion, my senses are immediately on high alert. Holy fuck there are a lot of people here.
Among the sea of guests, my gaze scans the crowd almost automatically, seeking out a familiar face. Aria. She must be here somewhere.
My chest tightens. This isn’t my scene. It never has been.
Each voice, each movement, is an intrusion into my bubble. When I’m in a crowd, I feel exposed, vulnerable. And I fucking hate it.
So, I’ve never tried to force myself to blend in, always kept myself more on the sidelines of business.
I wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, I used to be the kid who never shut up and talked to everyone. I thrived on chaos and noise, feeding off the energy of those around me.
But when my parents died, everything changed. Suddenly, the world felt colder, lonelier. And though Evander and Ignatius were there to pick up the pieces, I could never quite shake the emptiness that settled in my chest. We leaned on each other, and silence became our companion.
I weave through the crowd, my breaths shallow as I try to find a sliver of space. I decide to slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief against my skin. My hand trembles when I reach for my pack of cigarettes, fingers fumbling as I light one up.
The smoke curls around my head and a semblance of calm washes over me.
As I turn the corner of the patio, I catch a glimpse of someone standing in the shadows.
My heart stumbles. Even from a distance, I recognize her silhouette.
I pause, my gaze fixed on Aria.
Her gown looks as if it’s made of black liquid velvet, the fabric shimmering with every blow of the wind. The back of the dress dips into a deep V, showcasing her gorgeous, blonde hair cascading along her slender back.
She’s breathtaking.
Aria stands there, looking out into the garden and lost in her own thoughts, unaware of my presence. A surge of peace overtakes me at the sight of her.
I take a drag from my cigarette and walk over.
Aria finally turns, and our eyes meet. A flicker of something, shock maybe—or is that fear?—flashes in her expression. What the fuck?
But, as quickly as those emotions appeared, her face softens, a charged moment passing between us.
Every time I see Aria, everything else fades into the background and my heart swells with an emotion I can’t place. I want to drink her in and ask for seconds, thirds.
“Eísai ómorfi, astéri mou,” I murmur, before moving closer and burying my face in her hair. She smells like flowers, as if I’m standing in the middle of a blooming garden. A blush rises to her cheeks, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I sent you some messages a few days ago. Why aren’t you talking to me?”
Aria stammers. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“What do you mean?” I’m confused. I understand that if someone sees her alone with another man, it’ll look suspicious, but the way she’s acting is…different, not in her usual character. A sense of dread tightens my stomach.
I turn her face to me. “Aria, what’s wrong?”
She backs away from me, her eyes full of sorrow. “Please go.”
“Did something happen?” I ask, now worried.
There’s a split-second pause before Aria scowls. “Look at where I am, Dion. At my fucking engagement party! It’s too late.”
