ARIA

The next few days were torture.

Damon texted me the morning after he left my apartment. Simple. Direct. *Tomorrow night. My place. 8 PM. No pressure.* I stared at the message for twenty minutes before replying with a single word: *Okay.*

I spent the whole day nervous, changing my outfit three times, shaving everything, putting on the kind of lace underwear I hadn’t worn since the honeymoon phase with Marcus. By the time I pulled up to his sleek modern house on the edge of the city, my hands were shaking on the steering wheel.

He opened the door before I could even knock.

Damon stood there in a...