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17
Damian pickedup the phone on the firstring. “Yes?”
“She’s on her way back,”Colesaid.
Damian resisted the urge to exhale with relief. “Don’t leave her until she’s in theelevator.”
“Surething.”
Damian tossed his phone onto the table and turned to the suite’s windows. The sun was setting over Paris, the cloudy sky a swirl of steelylavender.
He’d left Christophe’s cyber lab after Cole’s second call — the one where he’d told Damian that Aria was meeting with Primo near the catacombs. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to head directly to the cafe and pull Aria out — by force ifnecessary.
The thought of her with Primo, with the brother who had sold her out to Gatti and Anastos to satisfy his own insecurity, his own jealousy, made Damian want to punchsomething.
Orsomeone.
Or multiplesomeones.
But force wasn’t what Aria needed from him. She still hadn’t broken open about what had happened in Greece. That meant it was still in there, festering, waiting forrelease.
She’d been sexually ravenous since her rescue, her appetite surprising even to him. He understood, recognized the impulse to lose yourself in powerful sensation that blotted out all else. It was the same impulse that had driven him to fight and train while he’d been plotting her rescue, the same impulse that had forced him to steer clear of histhoughts.
Thoughts were dangerous — deadly even — when you werevulnerable.
He knew that better thananyone.
Aria’s determination to avoid processing what had happened to her put her at risk — she just didn’t know it yet. Her kidnapping would always be a source of vulnerability until she faced it. She was off-balance but convinced she wasjustfine.
A dangerouscombination.
Add to that the fact that she didn’t know Primo had been involved in her kidnapping and Damian shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d met withPrimo.
Damian didn’t have any siblings. He didn’t understand the connection. Sharing his history with Aria was one thing, but he had no desire to share such intimate details of his past with someone who had sufferedalongsidehim.
But he knew Aria and Primo had been through a lot together. Knew they’d come through the death of their parents, that Primo had supported Aria through high school and college. Aria had been Primo’s touchstone, pulling him back to the side of sanity when the riptide of his madness threatened to pull him too far outtosea.
Damian had to imagine it was an airtight bond. He’d underestimated it, should have arranged for Aria to contact Primo while he was present, get it out of the way while she wasprotected.
Most of all he should have told her about Primo’s involvement in her kidnapping. Damian had been trying to protect her, but she had a right to know. Had a right to protect herself fromPrimo.
Damian stalked to the bar and poured himself a drink. He’d had no idea when he left Cole at the hotel to keep an eye on Aria that he would be protecting her from herself. He’d assumed the threat was Malcolm and Anastos, that if they got wind of Damian’s presence in Paris they would come after Ariaagain.
The oversight had been his — which didn’t mean he wasn’tfurious.
He was contemplating the wisdom of another drink when he heard the click of the lock on the suite’s door. He set down the bottle and turned to face the door in time to watch Aria step across thethreshold.
She didn’t see him at first. It had been daylight when he’d returned to the hotel and he hadn't bothered turning on the lights as the afternoon darkened. He watched her unwind her scarf, remove her coat. She jumped a little when she saw him and held a hand to herchest.
“Damian! You scared me half to death.” She walked toward him, then froze in her tracks. “You had mefollowed.”
He wasn’t surprised that she knew. She wasnofool.
“It’s a good thing,” he said. “You could have beenkilled.”
“Primo isn’t going to hurt me,” she said. “He’s mybrother.”
Damian inhaled, forced himself to control the storm raging in his body. It was a storm born of anger and fear and love, all churning inside him like a violenthurricane.
