RUTHLESS LOVE Chapter Four: The Waiting Game

---

Damian Rael did not wait for anyone.

He made kings kneel, corporations beg, and governments pause. Patience was not his strength—it was his weapon. But today, it turned on him like a dagger.

He stood at the balcony of his private penthouse suite, overlooking the city skyline. His shirt was still unbuttoned, his jaw locked tight. A tumbler of untouched whiskey rested in his hand. Below, the world moved as usual—cars rushed, lights blinked, deals were made. But up here?

Time had frozen.

It had been three hours since Aria left. Three hours of silence. Three hours since she walked away wearing his shirt and carrying his scent like a brand.

“If I come back?” she had asked.

He said he’d wait.

But every second that passed was another echo in the hollow space she left behind.

Damian was not used to feeling this exposed. Vulnerability was for the weak. For amateurs. For people who didn’t know how to win. He’d built his entire empire on staying ten steps ahead.

And yet... she broke through him like a thief in the night. Again.

He took a long breath and forced himself to replay everything.

---

Two years ago, the first time he touched her... he hadn’t expected her to matter.

It was a gallery opening. One of those cold, overhyped events with tasteless champagne and fake smiles. But then he saw her across the room. That silver dress. That sarcastic laugh. That way she met his gaze and didn’t look away.

She didn’t care who he was.

That’s what intrigued him.

So he invited her out, expecting another beautiful distraction. What he got was Aria Venn—all fire, all art, all thorns. She questioned him. Challenged him. Mocked him. She told him love wasn’t her style, and that men like him didn’t scare her.

And he believed her... until she kissed him first.

It should’ve ended there. A few nights. A few battles in bed. But with Aria, it was war. Every glance. Every touch. She got under his skin and burrowed deeper than anyone ever had.

And then, one morning, she was gone.

No fight. No explanation.

Just a note:

“I can’t do this. You’ll destroy me.”

Now, she was back.

Last night had rewritten every memory he ever had of her. Not just the way she surrendered, but the way she looked at him—as if she saw something in him even he didn’t understand.

He couldn’t let her go again.

Not because of ego. Not because of pride. But because he knew now:

Aria Venn was the only real thing in a world built on illusion.

The elevator dinged.

Damian stiffened.

Footsteps.

He turned toward the door, pulse quickening—though he would never admit it. If it was her, if she had come back, then—

But it wasn’t.

It was Kara, his assistant. Perfectly groomed, impersonal, efficient.

“You have a 1 PM board call,” she said calmly. “Also, the Paris acquisition—”

“Cancel it,” he said flatly.

Kara blinked. “Sir?”

“Cancel. Everything.”

She hesitated for the first time. “Is everything... alright?”

Damian looked past her. His voice was steel. “Nothing will be alright until she comes back.”

Kara gave a slight nod and left.

The door clicked shut.

Damian sat, finally. The velvet ring box still sat on the table.

He opened it.

Stared at it.

Not a proposal. A challenge. A promise of war. That ring wasn’t tradition—it was rebellion. Just like Aria.

He ran a hand through his hair, then picked up his phone.

Still nothing from her.

He should’ve sent security to follow her. Should’ve kept eyes on Eliot. But that would’ve made him a villain in her eyes again. And now, he didn’t want control. He wanted truth.

Was that weakness?

No. It was the most ruthless move of all—loving someone without force.

---

Meanwhile…

Aria stood outside the gallery, her heart beating erratically.

Eliot had walked away. His face pale, his voice shaking. He didn’t fight. Didn’t scream. He simply looked at her like she’d become someone else entirely—and maybe she had.

Maybe last night with Damian had changed her.

Because the moment Eliot gave her the choice, her heart made the decision before her mouth ever could.

She clutched the ring Damian gave her—still hidden in her pocket—and stepped into the street.

Her hand was on her phone. Her thumb hovered over Damian’s name. She didn’t press it.

Instead, she whispered to the wind.

“I’m coming back.”

---

Back at the penthouse...

The elevator chimed again.

Damian didn’t move this time.

If it was Kara again, he’d dismiss her. If it was a courier, he’d send them away. He didn’t care.

But then he heard it—her voice.

“Are you going to keep standing there, or do I have to let myself in again?”

He turned.

She stood in the doorway, soaked again from the light drizzle, eyes shining like wet stars. This time, no dress. No heels. Just jeans. A tee. A trembling smile.

And in her hand?

The ring.

Damian didn’t smile.

He simply walked toward her, slow, like he was afraid she’d vanish if he moved too fast.

“Aria,” he breathed.

She held up the ring. “I don’t want a safe life.”

“I’m not safe.”

“I know,” she said, stepping into his arms. “But I’m not running anymore.”

His mouth found hers—not in hunger this time, but in relief.

And for once, the ruthless king... let himself feel.

---

TO BE CONTINUED…