Chapter 16 – Bruises and Boundaries
Chapter 16 – Bruises and Boundaries
[Aurora]
The kiss didn’t solve anything.
It shattered everything instead.
By morning, Aurora wasn’t sure what hurt more—the ache in her chest or the silence between them. Damon had fallen asleep beside her, holding her like she was a lifeline. His body had molded to hers, and for the first time in weeks, his heartbeat had calmed in sync with hers.
But the dawn didn’t promise healing.
It only revealed the bruises neither of them could hide.
He stirred as she slipped from the bed, pulling on her robe, quietly padding toward the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror startled her—messy curls, swollen lips, guilt swimming behind tired eyes.
She had kissed Damon like she needed him to breathe.
But Luca’s touch still lingered on her fingers.
And that made her feel like the villain in her own story.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Damon was up, standing by the window, shirtless and silent, city light falling across the hard lines of his back.
She cleared her throat. “Morning.”
He glanced over his shoulder, nodded once. “Hey.”
“About last night—”
“We don’t have to talk about it.” His voice was stiff.
“But we do,” she said, walking toward him. “That kiss... it wasn’t nothing.”
He turned to face her, his jaw ticking. “Then what was it? Closure? Nostalgia?”
Her heart squeezed. “It was real. Damon, I still—”
He cut her off. “You kissed me like you needed me. Then you got dressed like you couldn’t stand to be near me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” He took a step closer, voice low. “Then tell me—did you think about him when you were in my arms?”
Aurora flinched.
And that was answer enough.
Damon’s face hardened.
“I don’t blame you,” he said after a pause. “I just don’t know what we are anymore.”
“We’re trying,” she whispered.
“Are we?”
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed.
He glanced down, then stiffened.
“Celeste,” he muttered.
Aurora blinked. “The journalist?”
He nodded. “We’re supposed to meet for a piece she’s writing... on the vault trial fallout.”
Aurora raised an eyebrow. “You’re doing press now?”
“Trying to reclaim the narrative,” he said. “You’re not the only one who wants to build something new.”
Something twisted in Aurora’s gut.
“Right,” she said coolly. “Then don’t let me keep you.”
Damon stared at her a moment longer, eyes dark with something unreadable.
And then he walked out.
---
[Celeste]
She chose the art gallery intentionally.
Public. Elegant. Safe.
Damon arrived ten minutes late, dressed in charcoal slacks and a black button-up, sleeves rolled to his forearms. The faintest bruise bloomed beneath his eyes—sleep deprivation, no doubt.
Still, he was magnetic.
“Celeste,” he greeted, voice rougher than she remembered.
“Damon.” She smiled. “Come to cleanse your soul with overpriced art?”
“I came to honor my PR handler’s threats,” he quipped. “Said I’d lose investors if I didn’t humanize myself.”
She tilted her head. “And how’s that going?”
He smirked faintly. “So far, I’ve been called ‘the fallen prince of finance’ and ‘the iceberg heir.’ I think I’m thriving.”
They strolled between abstract canvases, pausing in front of a painting splashed with deep red and streaks of black.
“Looks like heartbreak,” Celeste mused.
“Looks like war,” Damon said.
“Maybe both.”
She let the silence stretch before she added, softly, “I read your testimony. What you did... that was brave.”
He said nothing, hands in his pockets, eyes darkening.
Celeste turned to him. “You don’t have to keep bleeding to prove you’re not like him.”
Damon’s head snapped toward her.
“I’m not,” he said coldly.
“I know,” she replied gently. “But do you?”
That question hung in the air between them.
And she could tell—just like the first time—that she’d gotten under his skin.
But this time, he didn’t run.
He leaned in a little, voice softer. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I see someone worth knowing,” she replied. “Not fixing. Not saving. Just... worth knowing.”
For a moment, Damon didn’t move.
Then he looked away, jaw clenched.
“I should go.”
She didn’t stop him.
But she knew he’d come back.
Because that kind of pain always did.
---
[Luca]
Aurora wasn’t in the mood for more meetings.
But Luca brought coffee and that lopsided smile that made her forget her guilt—if only for a moment.
“You look like you barely slept,” he said, handing her the cup.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Rough night?”
She didn’t answer.
But he didn’t push.
Instead, he opened the folder he brought and started discussing legal strategy for the expansion of their shelters across southern Europe.
Midway through the meeting, Aurora’s phone buzzed.
Damon: Are you free to talk tonight?
She stared at the screen.
Luca noticed.
“Everything okay?”
She locked the phone. “Just noise.”
But she couldn’t stop the tremble in her fingers.
---
[Damon]
He didn’t know why he kept dreaming about her.
Worse, he didn’t know why they kept turning hotter.
In last night’s dream, Aurora had been wearing the same silk robe she wore when she first confronted him about Gregory. She pushed him against the wall, kissed him hard, hands roaming his chest, biting his lip like she wanted to tear him apart.
He had woken up so turned on he nearly punched the wall.
Because when he reached out, the bed was empty again.
He sat on the edge now, fingers clenched, jaw locked.
He couldn’t keep doing this.
Couldn’t keep pretending he hated her when all he wanted was to be inside her again, to hear her say his name like it was the only word that mattered.
But every time he looked at her now, he saw her with Luca.
Every time she smiled, he wondered who had earned it.
And that made him angry.
Too angry.
He texted Celeste.
Damon: Dinner?
A minute later, her reply blinked in.
Celeste: Only if you’re not using me to forget her.
He stared at the screen.
Then deleted the draft response.
Because she was right.
---
[Aurora – Later That Night]
She sat on the balcony, glass of wine in hand, hair down, letting the city buzz below.
Her phone buzzed again.
Damon: Still want to talk.
She didn’t reply.
Instead, she whispered into the dark, “I still love you.”
And maybe he would feel it.
Somehow.
Somewhere.