Chapter 22 – The Mascara Catastrophe and the Things We Don’t Say
Chapter 22 – The Mascara Catastrophe and the Things We Don’t Say
Aurora hadn’t meant to stab herself in the eye with the mascara wand. But there she was, standing in front of Luca, blinking rapidly with one teary eye, her lashes smudged in black streaks like a sad raccoon.
“Are you trying to blind yourself or seduce me?” Luca asked, biting back a grin.
She let out an embarrassed laugh. “If seduction involves stabbing your eyeball, I’ve been doing it wrong all this time.”
He leaned casually on the doorframe, arms crossed over his crisp white shirt that somehow made his golden skin glow. “I don’t know, it’s working. There’s a certain charm to clumsy women. Very... disarming.”
Aurora rolled her eyes—carefully this time. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet,” he said, pushing off the doorframe to walk into her suite, “you still keep me around. Admit it, you like me.”
“I tolerate you,” she said, dabbing her eye. “Like one tolerates mild allergies.”
Luca picked up her brush and gestured toward the couch. “Sit. Let me finish your makeup before you end up in the ER.”
She hesitated. “You know how to do makeup?”
“Older sisters. Lots of them. Sit.”
Something in his voice, that gentle confidence, made her obey. As he applied foundation to the bruised part of her cheekbone—a faint remnant from the incident with Gregory—she studied his face. He was handsome, certainly. But more than that, he was safe. Steady. Kind.
And yet… there was still that ache in her chest, that unfinished melody, a ghost of a name she didn’t dare speak out loud.
Damon.
She shut her eyes as Luca brushed over her cheekbones. If only she could stop dreaming about him. If only his touch wasn’t imprinted on her skin, his voice etched into the folds of her memory. She hated that she still loved him, especially after everything.
And yet she did.
“Done,” Luca said, breaking the silence. “You’re officially irresistible.”
Aurora opened her eyes and caught his gaze lingering a second too long. She quickly looked away, heart thudding. “Thanks.”
As she stood, his fingers gently caught her wrist. “Aurora... I don’t want to be just your safety net.”
She looked up at him. “You’re not. You’re more than that.”
“But not the one you dream about at night, right?” he said quietly.
Her silence was answer enough.
---
Meanwhile, at the Moretti Estate...
Damon slammed the file cabinet shut, causing Celeste to jump.
“Okay, that cabinet didn’t insult you,” she said dryly, holding a steaming mug of coffee.
He rubbed his temples. “Sorry. Just... long night.”
“You mean long nightmare?”
He shot her a sharp look.
Celeste sighed and sat across from him at the small table in the estate’s study. “You screamed in your sleep again.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You said her name,” Celeste said gently.
He closed his eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Damon,” she said softly, “it means everything.”
He met her gaze, guilt pooling in his eyes. “I’m trying. I am. But I—”
“Still love her,” she finished.
Silence stretched between them like glass.
“I keep trying to hate her,” Damon muttered. “It’s easier that way. But then I dream, and she’s not a villain. She’s… her. The girl who danced barefoot in the rain. The one who once cried because a dog was hit by a car. The woman who stood by me when no one else would.”
Celeste’s throat tightened. “Then why are you pretending to hate her?”
“Because it’s the only way I can stop needing her.”
Celeste stood, heart heavy. “You’re trying to forget a forest fire by lighting another match.”
He stared at her, wounded.
“I care about you, Damon. Maybe even love you. But I won’t be a stand-in for someone else.”
---
Later That Evening – The Charity Gala
The grand ballroom of the Mirabelle Hotel glittered with chandeliers and low laughter. Aurora stepped into the room on Luca’s arm, her deep crimson gown hugging her like a second skin. Heads turned. Cameras flashed. Somewhere in the room, hearts shattered quietly.
Damon, across the room, froze mid-conversation. Celeste’s hand clutched his arm tightly, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not when he saw her.
Aurora looked radiant, and not just from the glow of the chandeliers. She was laughing—laughing with Luca. Damon’s jaw tightened.
“She looks happy,” Celeste said under her breath.
He said nothing.
Aurora spotted them a moment later. Her smile faltered. Damon in a sharp black tuxedo looked unfairly good. Celeste was stunning in emerald silk. And they looked like a couple. An actual, beautiful couple.
“Are you okay?” Luca asked, leaning in.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
The air inside the ballroom was thick with champagne and unsaid things. Conversations flowed around them like rivers avoiding a jagged rock. And the jagged rock, of course, was Damon and Aurora’s proximity.
When they inevitably crossed paths by the dessert table—fate’s favorite playground—Aurora reached for a chocolate tart at the same time Damon did.
Their fingers brushed.
She pulled back as if burned. “Go ahead.”
“I insist,” he said stiffly.
Celeste and Luca hovered nearby, aware of the electric tension.
Aurora finally took the tart and offered a brittle smile. “Thanks.”
Damon nodded. “Enjoy.”
As they moved away, Aurora barely breathed. And then Luca leaned in and whispered, “You’re trembling.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know why he still affects me.”
“Because you never stopped loving him,” Luca said gently.
“I wish I did.”
---
That Night – Separate Beds, Same Dreams
Aurora tossed in bed, sweat glistening on her brow. In her dream, she was pressed against Damon’s chest, his hands tangled in her hair, his lips whispering apologies across her skin.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he murmured, kissing her jaw.
“Then why did you let me go?” she whispered back.
He didn’t answer—only kissed her harder.
Meanwhile, across town, Damon lay in a tangle of sheets, breath ragged. In his dream, Aurora stood in the moonlight, her dress slipping off one shoulder, her eyes full of heartbreak and longing.
“Say you still want me,” she said.
“I never stopped,” he breathed.
They both woke gasping—separate beds, same ache. Same shame.
---
The Next Morning
Celeste watched Damon from the kitchen doorway. He looked like he hadn’t slept, shadows under his eyes and guilt clouding his face.
“Another dream?” she asked, voice softer than usual.
He nodded.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she said. “To me. To yourself.”
He looked up. “I know.”
“I need to know something, Damon. If I wait, if I keep standing here... will she always be standing in front of you?”
He looked broken as he replied, “Yes.”
---
As Aurora arrived back at her apartment after her morning jog, her phone buzzed. It was a private message from an anonymous number.
"We know what Damon did. Want proof?"
Attached was a photo: Damon holding something that looked very much like an encrypted hard drive—one that was supposed to be destroyed after Gregory’s arrest.
Aurora’s hands shook.
Had Damon betrayed her?
Again?