"Where are we going?" Aria asked as the Rolls Royce bypassed the route back to the office and turned toward the city's private district. "If you're taking me to another restaurant, my stomach will explode. That steak was the size of a brick."
Damien didn't look up from his phone. "We're done eating. I'm taking you to meet the Board."
Aria froze. "The Board of Sinclair Corp? Dressed like this?" She gestured to her jeans. "Damien, I just insulted a banking heiress. I can't walk into a boardroom looking like a casual Friday intern."
Damien finally looked at her, a glint of amusement in his golden eyes. "Not that Board. The real Board. The only three people in this city I haven't tried to kill yet."
The destination wasn't a glass skyscraper. It was an unassuming, black iron door in an alleyway that smelled surprisingly like jasmine and expensive cologne. There was no sign. Just a camera with a red laser eye.
Damien stepped in front of it. The laser scanned his retina.
Click. Buzz.
The door swung open, revealing a staircase descending into darkness. Bass-heavy music thumped from below, vibrating in Aria's chest.
"Welcome to The Obsidian," Damien murmured, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her down. "Try not to stare at the clientele. They get nervous."
They emerged into a cavernous, subterranean lounge. It was screamingly expensive—black velvet booths, neon geometric lights, and a bar stocked with bottles that probably cost more than Aria's kidney. The people scattered around were a mix of celebrities, politicians, and dangerous-looking men in suits.
But Damien walked past them all, heading straight for a secluded VIP section guarded by two massive bouncers.
The bouncers bowed. "Mr. Sinclair. They're waiting."
Damien pushed open the velvet curtain.
Inside the private booth sat three men who looked like they had walked out of a GQ magazine spread for "Most Eligible Bachelors."
"Well, well, well," a voice drawled. "Hell has frozen over. The Monk has descended the mountain."
The speaker was a man with electric blue dyed hair, wearing a patterned silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest to reveal a stack of silver chains. He was lounging on the sofa like a boneless cat, swirling a martini. This was Kai Vane, the Information Broker and owner of the city's nightlife empire.
Next to him sat a man in a perfectly pressed charcoal suit that rivaled Damien's in cost. He had sharp, angular features and wire-rimmed glasses that slid down his nose as he typed furiously on a laptop. Julian Cross, the Legal Shark known as "The Grim Reaper" in court.
On the other side, inspecting a glass of whiskey like it was a biological specimen, was a man in a rumpled white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had tired, dark circles under his eyes and a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Dr. Elias Thorne, the genius Dean of Medicine at the Central Hospital.
"And he brought a pet," Kai added, his eyes landing on Aria. He sat up, grinning playfully. "Wait, is that the 'Missing Heiress'? The one trending on Twitter for dumping Lucas?"
"She's not a pet," Damien said, sitting down and pulling Aria next to him. "She's my fiancée. Watch your mouth, Kai, or I'll have Julian sue you for harassment."
Julian finally looked up. He adjusted his glasses, scanning Aria with a terrifyingly blank, analytical gaze. "I've already drafted the defamation paperwork. Just give the signal."
"You guys are no fun," Kai pouted. He leaned forward, extending a hand to Aria. "Hi, beautiful. I'm Kai. I own all the secrets in this city. If Damien treats you bad, come to me. I'm much nicer. And I don't have a stick up my ass."
Aria looked at the hand, then at Kai's face.
"Kai Vane," she repeated calmly. "The owner of the Red Lotus network."
Kai blinked, his hand freezing in mid-air. "How do you know the network name? That's not public."
Aria smiled. It was the smile of a fox who just found a chicken coop. "I have my sources. And I heard you have a distinct allergy to strawberries. Which is unfortunate, because that martini has a strawberry garnish."
Kai froze. He looked down at his drink. Indeed, floating innocently at the bottom under the olive was a tiny slice of strawberry.
"Holy shit!" Kai yelped, tossing the glass onto the floor where it shattered. He glared violently toward the bar. "Are they trying to kill me?!"
He turned back to Aria, eyes wide with genuine shock. "You have sharp eyes, beautiful. You just saved me an EpiPen stab."
Damien let out a low chuckle. He leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the booth behind Aria. He looked incredibly smug.
"I like her," Dr. Elias announced. The doctor leaned forward, his tired eyes sharpening into focus. "But let's cut the crap. Damien looks... alive. His pupils aren't dilated. His hands aren't shaking. He actually ate lunch."
Elias turned his intense gaze to Aria. "You. What did you do to him?"
"I treated him," Aria said simply.
"Impossible," Elias scoffed, rubbing his temples. "I've treated him for five years. I've consulted the best neurologists in Switzerland. His condition is genetic and progressive. There is no cure."
"Western medicine focuses on the symptoms," Aria said, leaning forward to match his intensity. "You treat the pain with opioids. You treat the insomnia with sedatives. You're trying to bludgeon the nervous system into submission."
She reached out, tapping the table with a fingernail.
"I don't fight the nerves. I redirect them. His Qi is blocked at the Fengchi and Anmian points, creating a pressure cooker in his skull. I simply... opened the valve."
Elias stared at her. His mouth opened slightly. Then he pulled a notebook out of his pocket.
"Show me," he demanded. "Where? Which points?"
"Elias, stop dissecting my wife," Damien warned, though he didn't look angry. "She's off the clock."
"Wife?" Julian spoke up again, closing his laptop with a snap. "So the rumors of the marriage registry are true? You didn't sign a prenup."
"I didn't," Damien confirmed.
The three men went silent. Not signing a prenup with Damien Sinclair was equivalent to winning the lottery ten times over.
"She demanded 20% of her own company and triple her salary," Damien explained, looking at Aria with a side-eye. "She's cheap."
"I'm efficient," Aria corrected. "Why take your money when I can make my own?"
Kai laughed, slapping his knee. "Damn, Damien! Where did you find her? She's vicious. I thought you liked them quiet and obedient."
"I like her because she's useful," Damien said, his tone flat. But his hand, hidden behind Aria's back, was playing with a strand of her rose-gold hair, twirling it around his finger.
"Useful is good," Julian nodded, approving. "Useful doesn't get you sued."
Suddenly, Aria's phone buzzed. She pulled it out.
It was a text from an unknown number.
[Sender: Unknown][Image Attachment]It's a photo of Aria walking into the club with Damien. The angle is high up, from a nearby building.[Text: Nice date. Would be a shame if Lucas found out you're at a sex club.]
Aria frowned. 'Sex club? This is a lounge.'
"Problem?" Damien asked, noticing her expression shift.
Aria showed him the phone.
Damien's face went from relaxed to icy in a nanosecond. The temperature in the booth dropped.
Kai leaned over. "Ooh, a stalker? Let me see."
He glanced at the photo. "Hey! That's my entrance! Who is camping on my roof?"
"Trace it," Damien ordered Kai.
Kai pulled out his phone, his playful demeanor vanishing. His fingers flew across the screen. "On it. Give me thirty seconds."
"Julian," Damien barked. "Draft a restraining order against whoever owns that number. And prepare a lawsuit for invasion of privacy."
"Already typing," Julian said, his laptop open again.
"Elias," Damien said.
"I can't sedate a text message, Damien," Elias sighed. " But I can offer you a Xanax so you don't murder someone."
"I don't need Xanax," Damien growled. He looked at Aria. "Are you scared?"
Aria looked at the photo. Then she zoomed in.
"No," she said slowly. "I'm not scared. I'm annoyed."
She pointed at the corner of the photo.
"That reflection in the window... that's a Cartier bracelet. The 'Love' bracelet."
She looked up at Damien.
"Bella has one. Lucas gave it to her for 'friendship' last year."
Aria stood up.
"Where are you going?" Damien asked, grabbing her wrist.
"To the roof," Aria said, a dangerous smile spreading across her face. "My sister wants to play paparazzi? Fine. I'll give her a show."
She grabbed Damien's tie and yanked him closer, her face inches from his.
"Clause 2, Mr. Sinclair," she whispered. "You protect me. So... come with me. Let's make sure she gets a really good angle."
Damien stared at her. Then, a slow, predatory grin matched hers.
"After you, Mrs. Sinclair."