Chapter 314: Is This a Divorce?

The foyer was painfully silent after the elevator doors clicked shut.

Aria stood glued to the marble floor, her fingers gripping her black clutch so tightly her knuckles turned white. Damien was standing just a few feet away, holding the bouquet of white peonies and the container of fresh strawberries. He looked entirely too good. The tailored black tuxedo fit his broad shoulders to perfection, and the crisp white shirt made his silver hair pop under the warm foyer lights.

Aria swallowed hard, her throat feeling like sandpaper.

She wasn’t going to cave. She had a point to make. He had kept massive, life-altering secrets from her, and she was currently administering the silent treatment to ensure he never did it again.

Aria lifted her chin, staring stubbornly at a spot on the wall just past his left ear. She took a deliberate step to the side, fully intending to gracefully bypass him and head for the lobby.

Damien casually took a step to his right, mirroring her movement and effortlessly blocking her path.

Aria frowned, stepping to the left.

Damien stepped to the left.

"Excuse me," Aria muttered, keeping her eyes glued to his perfectly knotted bowtie. "I have a red carpet to walk."

"How much longer are you going to torture me, Aria?" Damien asked.

His voice was a low, smooth rasp that sent an immediate, traitorous shiver straight down her spine.

Aria didn’t answer. She kept her gaze fixed on his bowtie. She knew that if she tilted her head up and actually looked into his golden eyes, the game was over. Her ovaries were currently screaming at her to drop the grudge. She was ninety percent sure she was ovulating, because the urge to drop her clutch and scale his body like a stripper pole was overwhelming her principles.

"I learned my lesson," Damien continued, taking a slow step closer. He held out the bouquet of peonies. "I was wrong. I was arrogant. No more secrets, Aria. I promise you."

Aria stared at the beautiful white flowers. Her resolve was crumbling at record speed.

Honestly, she was starting to wonder how much longer she should keep this up anyway. The silent treatment had stopped being a fun, empowering punishment three days ago and had slowly morphed into complete self-sabotage. She missed him. She missed his voice, she missed his stupidly handsome face, and she really, really missed his hands.

Why couldn’t she just admit it? Was it just stubborn pride?

Aria bit the inside of her cheek, desperately fighting a losing battle with her own libido.

Damien stood there, watching her stare blankly at his chest in total silence.

The quiet stretched. Aria’s silence was a terrifying, unsolvable puzzle. The longer she refused to look at him, the more his mind began to spiral into the darkest, worst-case scenarios.

Did he push her too far? Was she truly done with him?

Damien’s jaw locked. A cold, sinking dread settled deep into his stomach.

"Aria," Damien asked. "Do you want to divorce me?"

Aria’s brain screeched to a halt.

She snapped her head up, her emerald eyes blowing wide as they locked onto his.

Damien looked devastated. He genuinely looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for her to push him over.

Aria stared at him for two solid seconds.

And then, a loud, breathless snort escaped her lips.

The snort quickly bubbled into a fit of full-blown, hysterical laughter. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain her amusement, but the sheer absurdity of the question was too much.

Damien blinked, his brows pulling together in profound confusion. "Is that a yes?"

"Divorce?!" Aria wheezed, dropping her hand. "Damien, are you insane?! You think I’m giving you the cold shoulder because I want a divorce?!"

"Then why won’t you even look at me?" Damien asked, the tension in his shoulders refusing to drop.

"Because if I look at you in that tuxedo," Aria blurted out, her intrusive thoughts completely hijacking her vocal cords, "I am going to throw these flowers on the floor and jump you right here in the foyer."

Damien froze.

The devastation vanished from his face in a microsecond, instantly replaced by a dark, hungry heat. His golden eyes dilated, sweeping over her flushed face and the stunning dress hugging her curves.

"Then jump," Damien ordered softly, tossing the container of strawberries and the bouquet onto the console table. He stepped into her space, his hands coming up to grip her waist.

Aria gasped as his fingers dug into her sides, but she quickly placed her hands flat against his chest and pushed him back an inch.

"No," Aria argued, though her face was burning a vibrant shade of tomato red. "We can’t just kiss and make up. A kiss doesn’t magically fix the fact that you lied to me. We can’t just sweep our issues under the rug with physical affection."

Damien paused.

He stared down at her. He thought about Elias’s advice to him.

"Women are emotional," Elias had warned him. "They need to talk things out. They want a dialogue, Damien. You can’t just throw money at them and expect the problem to disappear."

Damien took a deep, steadying breath. He forced his hormones into a locked box. He was going to be a mature, communicative husband. He was going to show her that he respected her boundaries and valued her emotional needs.

"You’re right," Damien agreed smoothly, nodding his head.

Simultaneously, Aria’s willpower disintegrated.

Damien opened his mouth to deliver his mature response, at the exact same millisecond Aria’s lack of impulse control won the battle.

"We should sit down and talk," Damien suggested sincerely.

"Angry make-up sex," Aria blurted out.

The words crashed into each other in the quiet foyer.

Total silence followed.

Damien stopped breathing. He stared down at her, his golden eyes wide, slowly processing the words that had just tumbled out of her cherry-red lips.

Aria stood frozen like a deer in headlights.

Her face ignited, turning a shade of crimson so bright she was certain she could glow in the dark. She had said it out loud. Not in her head. Right to his face.

She stared up at her husband, absolutely mortified, as an arrogant smirk began to stretch across Damien’s face.