Chapter 300: Stop Making My Heart Race!

It read:

Your father has cancer. He needs to go to California.

Aria blinked.

She stared at the note. She read it again.

"What?" Aria whispered into the quiet bathroom.

Aria crumpled the note in her fist, shoved the bathroom door open, and marched out into the hallway.

Richard was standing a few feet away. Aria shoved the black garment bag containing her ruined, torn glitter gown into his chest. Richard took it without a word.

Aria spotted Damien leaning against a marble pillar near the entrance to the main auction hall. He was watching the doors, his posture casual.

Aria didn’t say a word. She marched right up to him, grabbed him by the wrist, and hauled him down a corridor. She dragged him effortlessly until she found a set of glass doors leading out onto a secluded, wrap-around smoking balcony.

She shoved him outside and slammed the glass door shut behind them, sealing them into the cool night.

"What do you mean my father has cancer?!" Aria demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "And why is he going to California?!"

Damien didn’t answer immediately.

He was paralyzed. The ambient light caught the rich, blood-red silk of the archival gown, highlighting the way it clung to the curve of her waist and hips. The plunging, open back left a scandalous amount of skin exposed to the cool air.

Damien’s golden eyes were glued to her chest, tracing the delicate, elegant cut of the neckline.

Aria’s furious frown faltered. A bright red blush instantly rushed to her cheeks as she caught the very inappropriate look in his eyes.

"Damien," Aria scolded, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "My eyes are further up north."

Damien slowly lifted his gaze. His golden eyes met hers and it felt as if all the oxygen instantly vanished from the air.

"You look beautiful," Damien murmured.

Aria’s face burned even hotter. She was trying to be intimidating and furious, but her traitorous heart was currently doing backflips in her chest.

"Turn around," Aria commanded. "Don’t look at me."

Damien frowned slightly, tilting his head. He didn’t move an inch. "I can’t look at you too?" he questioned with a small pout.

Aria bit the inside of her cheek, desperately fighting a smile at how cute he was being.

"Did you write that note just to trick me into talking to you?" Aria asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Damien’s expression shifted into something serious.

"No," Damien replied, taking a step closer. "I didn’t lie. Raymond really does have cancer. It is still in its early stages, so it is treatable. But the only facility equipped to handle the specialized extraction is the Vanguard Oncology Institute in California."

"I need your permission to put him on a jet," Damien explained softly. "I want to send him to California under my protection. He will be safe, and he will get the treatment he needs."

Aria looked down at the stone floor. She didn’t care if her father lived or died, but she needed answers only he can give her.

Aria let out a long exhale.

"Okay," Aria nodded, looking back up at him. "Treat him. Send him to California."

"I’ll have Ken arrange the flight," Damien promised.

"Good," Aria said, taking a step backward toward the glass doors. "I’m going back inside."

"Wait."

Damien caught her wrist, his grip gentle but firm.

Aria paused. "What?"

"There is something else," Damien murmured, his golden eyes locking onto hers. "Something I need to tell you."

Her curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

Damien released her wrist. He crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

"You’ll find out," Damien drawled smoothly, "if you sit beside me in the VIP section for the rest of the auction."

Aria scoffed, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "Are you a child?"

Damien took a step into her space, crowding her against the glass door.

"I am just a husband who is desperate for his wife’s attention," Damien whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips.

Aria’s breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering a millimeter from hers. She involuntarily let her eyelids flutter shut, tilting her chin up, ready for him to kiss her.

Instead, Damien reached right past her, his hand wrapping around the brass handle of the balcony door.

He pulled the door open, stepping back with a smirk on his face.

Aria’s eyes snapped open. She stood there, her lips parted, feeling played.

Her face flooded with crimson heat. She let out a frustrated, humiliated huff, spun on her heels, and aggressively rushed past him back into the warm hallway of the auction house.

Damien’s chuckle echoed behind her as he easily matched her pace.

Aria power-walked into the main auction hall, making a beeline for the velvet-roped VIP section. She dropped into the plush armchair beside his designated seat, her face still burning with a furious blush.

Damien sat down next to her, looking incredibly smug.

He leaned over, his shoulder brushing against hers. "Is it really so bad sitting beside me?" Damien teased softly. "Did you prefer sitting back there with Lucas?"

Aria physically shuddered, a look of revulsion twisting her features as the memory of the bathroom stall flooded her brain.

Aria huffed, turning her head to glare at him. "Don’t question me, Damien Sinclair. I’m not asking you why there was a woman clinging all over your arm a little while ago."

Damien froze.

His brows pulled together in genuine confusion. "A woman?"

"Yes, a woman," Aria sniffed, looking away toward the auction stage.

For a split second, Damien was lost. And then, the realization hit him.

Damien raised his hand, gesturing to one of the operatives standing near the VIP velvet rope. He pointed toward a table near the front.

A minute later, the operative returned, escorting a girl in a silk dress.

Aria stiffened as the same woman from before approached their chairs.

"Yes, Uncle Damien?" the girl asked brightly, her voice sweet and high-pitched.

Aria’s brain screeched to a halt. ’Uncle?’

Aria turned her head, finally getting a close look at the girl.

She was tall, easily five-foot-nine, and wearing a mature, sophisticated silk gown. But looking at her face up close, it was very obvious. She wasn’t a woman. Her face was very youthful, her cheeks round with baby fat, and she was currently wearing a mouth full of silver braces.

She was a child.

"Violet is my cousin’s daughter," Damien said. He gestured to Aria with an amused glint in his eye. "Violet, I wanted to introduce you to my wife."

Aria wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She was jealous of a tween?!

"Oh my god, it is so nice to meet you!" Violet gushed, clasping her hands together. "You are so beautiful! I love your dress!"

Aria swallowed her humiliation, pasting on a bright smile.

"Thank you, Violet," Aria smiled warmly. "But I’m definitely not as beautiful as you are."

Violet blushed furiously, giggling behind her hand. "Thank you! I have to go back to my parents before they notice I wandered off. Bye!"

Violet scurried back to her table.

Damien turned to Aria, leaning back in his chair, looking so smug he practically radiated arrogance.

Aria glared at him, her face burning. "Not a single word, Damien."

"I didn’t say anything," Damien smiled.

"You promised to tell me something," Aria abruptly changed the subject, desperate to escape her own embarrassment. "What is it?"

The teasing light in Damien’s eyes vanished instantly.

He leaned in, closing the distance between them until his mouth was hovering right next to her ear. The heat of his breath tickled her skin.

"I love you," Damien whispered.

Aria’s heart exploded. She could have combusted into flames right there in the armchair, her entire body melting into a puddle of mush. She forced herself to look straight ahead at the stage, biting her lip. She had to be strong. She couldn’t let him off the hook just because he was being a sweet romantic.

She placed her hands on the armrests, fully intending to stand up and walk away.

But right as she moved to stand, the crystal chandeliers overhead suddenly dimmed. The ambient chatter of the room died instantly as the spotlights flared on the main stage.

With a huff, Aria sank back into her seat.

The auction was starting.

For the next forty minutes, Aria watched in fascination as the elite casually threw millions of dollars around for old oil paintings and antique vases.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," the lead auctioneer announced, stepping up to the podium. "We arrive at Lot 24. The breathtaking, highly coveted Star of Vienna diamond necklace."

The crowd murmured excitedly. Paddles were raised before the bidding even officially opened.

"However," the auctioneer smiled tightly, tapping his gavel. "I must inform the room that this item has already been secured."

A collective gasp of outrage and disappointment rippled through the crowd. Closed-door preemptive buyouts were very rare and required an astronomical amount of capital.

"The piece was preemptively purchased this evening for the sum of thirty-five million dollars," the auctioneer announced, his voice echoing off the mahogany walls. "By Mr. Damien Sinclair."

The entire room whipped their heads toward the VIP section.

Aria’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. She turned to stare at her husband in shock. ’Thirty-five million dollars?!’

"Mr. Sinclair has requested that a note, attached to the acquisition, be read aloud to the room tonight," the auctioneer continued, pulling a small, embossed card from his podium.

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The auctioneer cleared his throat, reading the elegant handwriting.

"To my beautiful wife," the man read over the microphone. "The only woman on this earth capable of bringing me to my knees. You are the light of my life. I love you."

A collective swoon echoed through the auction hall.

Women clutched their chests. Older socialites murmured in awe. The nasty divorce rumors that Diana had planted in the lobby earlier were publicly executed by a thirty-five-million-dollar guillotine of pure romance.

Aria’s face was so red she was certain she was glowing in the dark. She wondered if her heart would ever stop racing tonight.

She turned to Damien, forcing an unimpressed glare onto her face, though there was zero actual heat behind it.

"You can’t buy my forgiveness, Damien," Aria whispered fiercely.

Damien leaned toward her, a smile curving his lips.

"Can’t a man simply gift his wife?" Damien murmured smoothly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now take a brief, fifteen-minute intermission for refreshments," the auctioneer announced, banging his gavel. "When we return, we will commence the main event of the evening... the bidding for the fifty percent shares of Vale Entertainment."