Late Nights
Ariana shut her laptop, the glow of the screen disappearing as she leaned back against the couch. The weight of everything she had uncovered sat heavy on her chest, but it wasn’t anx- iety that kept her wide awake.
It was exhilaration.
For the first time since the betrayal, she felt in control. Every piece of evidence she had gath- ered tonight was another nail in Liam and Sienna’s coffins. And she was going to bury them.
She stretched, rolling the tension from her shoulders before standing. The dim city lights out- side her penthouse window cast shadows across the room as she padded barefoot to her bed-
room.
She was exhausted, but sleep? That was impossible.
Her mind was still wired, still replaying every damning email, every secret she had un- earthed.
She slipped off her dress, trading it for a silk robe as she sat on the edge of her bed. Tomor- row, she would begin phase one of her plan.
Just as she was about to slide under the covers, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
Ariana frowned, hesitating for a moment before answering.
“Hello?”
A deep, velvet–smooth voice came through the line.
“Did you enjoy your night, Miss Cole?”
Ariana’s breath caught for half a second before a smirk curved her lips.
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“Damian Blackwood,” she purred. “I don’t recall giving you my number.”
“You didn’t,” he admitted, his voice edged with amusement. “I have my ways.”
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Ariana leaned back against the pillows, one hand trailing absently over the silk sheets. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”
“That depends,” Damian said smoothly. “Are you the type of woman who enjoys a little mystery?”
Her smirk deepened. “Oh, I love a mystery. But I hate being watched.”
Damian chuckled–a low, dark sound that sent an unexpected warmth curling in her stomach. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not watching. Yet.”
Ariana’s pulse skipped.
What is it about this man?
“So, tell me, Damian,” she said, keeping her voice cool despite the fire spreading under her skin. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Couldn’t stop thinking about me?”
“Something like that,” he admitted, the amusement never leaving his voice. “That, and I thought I should warn you.”
Ariana arched a brow, intrigued. “Warn me about what?”
There was a pause.
“Revenge,” Damian said finally. His voice had dropped lower, rougher, like he was speaking from experience.
Ariana’s fingers tightened around the phone. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“I think you’re playing with fire,” he said. “And fire has a way of burning everything–includ- ing the person holding the match.”
She let out a soft laugh. “How poetic.”
“I’m serious, Ariana.”
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Something about the way he said her name made her stomach tighten.
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“Revenge changes people,” Damian continued. “It consumes them. It eats away at the parts of you that you think are untouchable.”
Ariana exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not scared of a little change.”
“You should be.” His voice was softer now, but no less intense. “I’ve seen what vengeance does to people. It turns them into something unrecognizable. Something dark.”
Ariana swallowed, rolling onto her side. “And you think that’s what will happen to me?”
Damian was quiet for a moment before speaking again.
“I think you’re already walking that line,” he admitted. “And I think you’re too damn smart not to realize it.”
Ariana bit her lip.
He wasn’t wrong.
She was changing. She had felt it from the moment she walked into that bedroom and saw Liam and Sienna tangled in her sheets.
The woman she had been before that moment? She was gone.
“Maybe I don’t mind the darkness,” she murmured.
Damian let out a quiet breath. “You say that now. But what happens when it’s over? When you’ve destroyed them? What’s left?”
Ariana’s chest tightened.
She didn’t have an answer for that.
Because the truth was–she hadn’t thought that far ahead.
She let the silence linger before shifting the conversation. “You sound like a man who’s speaking from experience.”
Damian let out a quiet laugh. “Maybe I am.”
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Ariana’s curiosity piqued. “Who was your revenge against?”
There was a pause. A long one.
Then, finally, Damian spoke.
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“Someone who deserved it.”
Ariana knew better than to push. She recognized that tone–the same one she had when people dared to ask about Liam and Sienna before she was ready to talk.
Still, the idea of Damian Blackwood seeking revenge was… intriguing.
“Did you win?” she asked softly.
Damian exhaled. “At the time, I thought I did.”
“But?”
“But looking back… I’m not sure anyone really wins in revenge.”
Ariana swallowed, his words settling uncomfortably in her chest.
She refused to believe that. She would win.
Damian sighed. “Just be careful, Ariana.”
There was something in his voice–something almost protective.
Ariana’s lips curled. “Are you worried about me, Damian?”
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“I’d be a fool if I wasn’t,” he admitted, so effortlessly, so unapologetically, that it sent a shiv-
er down her spine.
She let out a soft laugh, ignoring the way her stomach tightened at his words. “I appreciate the concern, but I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
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Another pause. Then-
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“Good,” Damian murmured. “Then I’ll just have to be here to remind you when you forget.”
Ariana’s breath caught.
What exactly did that mean?
Before she could ask, Damian’s voice dropped into something silky and teasing.
“Now, tell me something, Ariana.”
She raised a brow. “What?”
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“How exactly are you going to fall asleep tonight knowing I’m thinking about you?”
Heat flushed through her, and for the first time in a long time, Ariana let herself giggle.
Not the bitter, sharp–edged laughter she had grown accustomed to–a real, genuine giggle.
She bit her lip, shaking her head. “Goodnight, Damian.”
He chuckled. “Sweet dreams, Miss Cole.”
The call ended.
Ariana stared at her phone for a long moment before slowly saving his number.
Damian Blackwood.
She exhaled, sinking deeper into the pillows, a small smile playing on her lips.
And as she closed her eyes, for the first time in weeks, Liam and Sienna weren’t the last things on her mind.
Damian was.
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