Chapter 315: Bros Before Billionaire Hoes

Aria stared at her husband’s smug face, feeling a wave of heat wash over her entire body. Her brain frantically scrambled for a backspace button that didn’t exist in real life.

"Talk!" Aria blurted out, her voice pitching up in a desperate panic. "I meant talk! I wanted to say we should sit down and talk! The syllables just... they got mixed up in my throat! It was a slip of the tongue!"

Damien didn’t even try to hide his amusement.

He knew that she meant what she said and it was exactly what she wanted.

"Right," Damien hummed, his voice smooth and dripping with teasing disbelief. "A slip of the tongue."

"It happens!" Aria argued, grabbing the small plastic container of strawberries from the console table and holding it to her chest like a shield. "People misspeak all the time! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am fashionably late to my own premiere, and I have a red carpet to walk."

She spun around on her heels, intending to escape the suffocating embarrassment of the foyer.

"I’m going with you," Damien stated, effortlessly matching her pace.

Aria stopped at the kitchen archway, shoving the container of strawberries into the refrigerator to buy herself a second to breathe. She shut the stainless-steel door and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her dress.

"No, you aren’t," Aria deflected, lifting her chin. "Zoe is my date tonight. We made plans. Bros before hoes, Damien."

Damien paused. He tilted his head, staring down at her with an entertained glint in his eye.

"Are you calling me a hoe?" he asked, completely unbothered.

Aria tried to keep a straight face, but a small, suppressed giggle escaped her lips. "If the shoe fits."

Damien stepped closer. He didn’t look offended in the slightest. In fact, he looked very satisfied.

"I don’t mind the title," Damien murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. "As long as you put the word ’my’ in front of it. I’ll gladly be your hoe."

Aria’s jaw dropped, a fresh blush dusting her cheeks at how effortlessly he flipped the insult into a declaration of devotion. She quickly turned around, speed-walking toward the elevator.

"You’re ridiculous!" she called over her shoulder, hitting the call button.

"I’m coming with you," Damien insisted, stepping right into the elevator cabin with her as the doors slid open.

"I told you, I’m going with my bro!" Aria protested, trying to hold back a smile.

"And you are going to have to be the date to both your bro and your hoe tonight," Damien reasoned flawlessly as the doors slid shut. "Because I’m not letting you go without me."

By the time the elevator reached the lobby, Aria had given up on trying to ditch him.

Zoe and Coco were waiting near the revolving glass doors, both pacing nervously and checking their phones. The second they saw Aria and Damien step out of the elevator together, Zoe let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank god," Zoe cheered, rushing over in her silver dress. "I thought we were going to have to do a solo carpet walk and field a million awkward questions. Let’s go, the car is outside!"

They pushed through the glass doors of the building and stepped out onto the evening sidewalk.

Zoe stopped dead in her tracks.

Coco gasped, dropping his designer bag onto the pavement.

Parked at the curb wasn’t the usual black SUV. It was a custom, midnight-black Maybach Pullman limousine. It was absurdly long, sleek, and practically radiated wealth. A uniformed driver was standing at attention, holding the rear door open to reveal a massive, plush leather interior bathed in soft ambient lighting.

"Damien," Aria laughed, turning to look at him. "This is an actual spaceship."

"I figured we needed room for the dress," Damien shrugged casually.

Zoe was already sprinting toward the open door. "I call the backwards-facing seat! I want to feel like a pop star!"

They piled into the back of the limousine. The interior was massive, featuring a chilled champagne cooler, crystal flutes, and a state-of-the-art sound system. Coco immediately hijacked the Bluetooth, blasting a Charli XCX track that filled the cabin with heavy, upbeat bass.

Aria and Zoe popped a bottle of sparkling cider and clinked their glasses together as the limo merged into the busy Manhattan traffic.

The back of the car was loud, chaotic, and filled with high-energy excitement. Coco was adjusting the sheer black ribbons on her red skirt, while Zoe snapped flash photos of them posing with their drinks.

Tucked into the far corner of the plush leather bench, Damien sat perfectly still.

He held a glass of sparkling water, his long legs crossed, watching them. He didn’t speak, but a faint smile touched the corners of his mouth.

He watched Aria throw her head back, laughing loudly at something Coco said. Her emerald eyes were bright, completely free of the stress and anxiety that had plagued her for the last few weeks. She looked stunning in the dress, but more than that, she looked really happy.

Damien took a slow sip of his water, his gaze lingering on her smile.

He wanted her to look exactly like this for the rest of her life. He wanted her to be carefree, celebrating her career, surrounded by people who made her laugh.

Which was exactly why a dark knot was currently twisting in the pit of his stomach.

Damien stared out the tinted window at the passing city lights, his smile fading into a tight line.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the phone call he had received earlier that afternoon.

He had found something.

It wasn’t a confirmed fact yet. But if the theory his team had uncovered turned out to be true... it was going to shatter the ground Aria walked on. It was going to change everything she thought she knew about her past.

Damien looked back at his wife. She was currently helping Zoe fix a smudge of lip gloss, her face glowing under the neon lights of the limo.

He couldn’t tell her tonight.

He refused to be the reason that smile vanished from her face. She had fought too hard for this premiere, and she deserved to have her victory lap without a dark cloud hanging over her head.

’Tomorrow,’ Damien decided, taking another sip of his drink and forcing his tense shoulders to relax.