Chapter 25 – Between His Lies and My Heart
Chapter 25 – Between His Lies and My Heart
[Aurora]
I wasn’t supposed to be there. Not in the corridor outside Damon’s suite. Not barefoot in the dim hallway, in nothing but a silk robe, clenching a glass of water I never intended to drink. But I’d heard him—his voice cracking through the door, strained, aching.
Celeste.
My hand had hovered over the door handle before I snapped it away. I shouldn’t care.
But I did.
I turned to leave, hoping to erase the memory of hearing Damon call another woman’s name in the most broken voice I’d ever known. But then I heard the soft gasp—the sound of lips pulling away, the shifting of fabric.
No. No. I wasn’t imagining that.
My chest tightened. I stormed back to my room, slamming the door harder than I meant to, which earned me a knock ten seconds later.
"Aurora?"
Luca.
"Yeah," I croaked. "Come in."
He opened the door slowly, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. The ridiculousness of it almost made me laugh. I’d just been reduced to ash over Damon, and here was Luca, trying to be my warm cup of cocoa.
"You okay?" he asked, settling beside me on the couch. I didn’t respond immediately, but he handed me a mug anyway.
"Thanks," I whispered.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I looked at him. Beautiful, dependable, affectionate Luca. He had always been honest, always there. But my heart? It was trapped in a burning building it refused to escape.
"Not yet."
We sat in silence for a while, the silence not uncomfortable, just charged. Then he looked at me, his expression softer than I’d seen it in days.
"You know," he said, "you keep looking at him like he’s the one who got away. But maybe you’re the one he let go."
Ouch.
I smiled faintly. "What if neither of us let go? What if we just got lost?"
He studied me. "Then you need to ask yourself if you want to be found."
---
[Damon]
I couldn’t sleep.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her standing in the hallway—yes, I knew she had been there. I saw the shadow under the door. I’d called out for her.
But I’d said Celeste’s name.
She didn’t knock. She didn’t open the door. She ran.
Celeste had been kind. She comforted me in the darkness, held me when my mind spiraled. But I didn’t see her. Not truly. I was thinking of Aurora.
Even when I kissed her, I imagined Aurora’s lips.
Celeste deserved more than being a substitute.
I sat at my desk, rereading the documents Caleb had sent. Gregory’s empire was still crumbling. We’d won the case in Geneva, but more lawsuits were stacking up across Europe.
The Moretti name was mud. And somehow, I didn’t care.
I got up, paced to the window, and watched the city blink below.
Would Aurora ever forgive me?
---
[Celeste]
He wasn’t mine.
Even when he kissed me, his eyes were closed. His touch lingered, but there was no hunger, no desperation. He was tracing a memory.
I pulled away, confused. "Damon, what’s wrong?"
He’d muttered Aurora’s name in his sleep.
It shattered me.
I left his room in silence, dignity still barely intact. As I walked past Aurora’s door, I saw the light was still on.
I paused.
Then kept walking.
---
[Aurora]
The next morning, I tried to avoid him.
But fate is cruel. Or maybe just efficient. We bumped into each other in the elevator heading down to the dining room.
He stepped in. I almost stepped out.
Silence stretched for an eternity.
"Aurora—"
"Don’t."
"It wasn’t—"
I turned to him. "Don’t lie to me."
His jaw clenched. "I’m not."
The elevator chimed and opened. Neither of us moved.
"You were with her," I said.
"And you were with Luca," he snapped.
I flinched. "So we’re keeping score now?"
His voice lowered. "I’m keeping track of the pain."
My eyes filled with tears I refused to shed. "Then maybe we should stop causing it."
He looked at me for a long time. Then nodded once. "Maybe we should."
He stepped out.
I stayed behind.
---
[Luca]
I didn’t mean to listen.
But I had been coming around the corner when I heard their voices inside the elevator.
I’d never heard Aurora so sharp. So wounded.
And Damon? He sounded like a man drowning in the very ocean he built.
I tightened my fists.
I had to win her.
Not because she was a prize—but because she deserved to be loved, purely, fiercely, completely. And Damon clearly wasn’t ready.
---
[Celeste]
Damon hadn’t spoken to me all day.
I waited at lunch. He never showed. I texted. Nothing.
So when I saw him later that evening, sitting on the rooftop terrace alone with a bottle of whiskey, I sat beside him without asking.
"Is this the part where you say it meant nothing?" I asked.
He sighed. "No. I won’t lie to you."
"Then tell me what it was."
He looked at me, hollow-eyed. "Desperation."
"And love?"
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
"It’s her, isn’t it?"
He swallowed. "Always has been."
Tears welled in my eyes, but I nodded. "Then go to her."
He hesitated. "She hates me."
"No. She just doesn’t know if she can trust herself around you again."
---
[Aurora]
That night, I dreamed again.
Not of Luca. Not of safety. But of Damon.
His hands on me. His voice in my ear. The way he used to trace my spine with slow reverence. The way he used to hold me like I was both his salvation and his undoing.
I woke with a start. My skin burning. My throat dry.
Why did he haunt me?
I sat up, hugging my knees.
Then a knock came.
Soft.
Tentative.
"Aurora?"
Damon.
To be continued...