Chapter 28 – Unspoken Flames

Chapter 28 – Unspoken Flames

The masquerade continued under the shimmering chandeliers and classical strings, but for Damon and Aurora, time bent and twisted, centering only around each other. From the moment their eyes met across the ballroom, the crowd blurred into irrelevance. Damon’s lips twitched into a smirk, his mask hiding the full effect of his expression—but Aurora felt it like a secret touch.

Aurora swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away. Luca stood beside her, charming and gracious in his navy tux, his mask trimmed with gold filigree. He noticed her shift, her tension, and without comment, gently placed his hand on the small of her back.

"Shall we dance before the wine vanishes and I’m forced to pretend to like cocktails again?" Luca joked, his voice lifting the mood.

She laughed lightly. "Let’s."

As Luca led her onto the floor, Damon finally broke from his group—leaving Celeste with a polite excuse—and moved toward the edge of the dance circle, his gaze tracking Aurora’s every move.

Celeste, from across the hall, watched Damon with a weight pressing against her chest. She knew she was losing him—not to someone new, but to someone who never left his heart.

Meanwhile, Luca was aware too. Every step they took in rhythm was precise, but not intimate. He could feel the distance. He leaned in just enough to whisper, “You can look at me like that too, you know. I don’t bite—unless asked.”

Aurora chuckled. "I’m sorry, Luca. It’s been... a complicated day."

His smile was warm, forgiving. "You don’t owe me anything. But if he’s the one keeping you from breathing freely, maybe don’t let him win so easily."

Her eyes widened, caught off guard. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's watched two people pretend not to be in love."

The music slowed. Damon stepped onto the floor, cutting in with a practiced confidence that was impossible to deny.

"May I?" Damon asked, gaze locked on Aurora.

Luca didn’t hesitate. "Of course," he said smoothly, releasing her hand with the grace of a gentleman.

As Damon and Aurora danced, the world narrowed again. They didn't speak for a full minute, their bodies moving fluidly as if their silence was more powerful than any words. Every touch sent shivers down Aurora’s spine, every glance from Damon made her pulse stumble.

"You look like sin and heaven in the same breath," Damon said at last, his voice low.

Aurora’s throat tightened. "Is that meant to be flattering or dangerous?"

"Both."

She stepped closer, dangerously so, her mask inches from his. "You shouldn’t say things like that."

"Why not? You’re not mine. Not anymore."

It was a stab, deliberate and raw. She felt the air between them crackle.

"Is that how you justify your bitterness, Damon? By pretending you’re the one who lost something?"

His jaw tensed. "I lost everything. And I still wake up tasting you in dreams I shouldn't have."

They both stopped dancing.

Her lips parted. "Me too."

The moment was interrupted by the sound of camera shutters. The press, discreet until now, began snapping photos of them.

Across the room, Luca noticed. So did Celeste.

Celeste’s face paled. It was undeniable now—the tension, the ache, the fire neither Damon nor Aurora could bury. She stepped back from the crowd, escaping through a side corridor, her heels echoing in the marble hallway.

Luca didn’t follow. He simply watched. A storm brewed behind his eyes, but it wasn’t rage. It was the quiet pain of knowing he’d been chasing someone running in another direction all along.

Back on the dance floor, Aurora took a breath and turned away.

"I have to go."

Damon caught her wrist. "Why do we keep pretending this is done when we both know it never was?"

"Because the pretending is safer than the truth."

She pulled away and vanished into the crowd.

---

Outside the estate, the air was cooler. Aurora leaned against a stone pillar in the garden, trying to catch her breath.

She barely heard the footsteps.

"You looked like a goddess in that dress."

She turned to find Luca approaching, holding a flute of champagne.

"And you look like you’ve just watched a hurricane pass through."

Aurora gave a tight smile. "That obvious?"

He offered her the champagne. She took it.

"I’m not angry," he said, sitting beside her on the edge of the fountain. "But I’m not stupid either."

"Luca—"

"Don’t. Don’t explain. You don’t owe me that. I like you, Aurora. Enough to not want to be your second place. And enough to tell you that if you're still in love with him, deal with it. Or walk away from it. But don’t stay in this limbo—it’s cruel to everyone."

She blinked against the emotion rising in her throat. "I didn’t mean for this to happen."

"No one does. That’s love’s favorite trick."

He rose, brushing off his jacket. "If you ever decide you want someone who sees you completely, I’ll be around. But I won’t be waiting forever."

And with that, he left.

Aurora stared at the champagne glass, now warm in her hand, and whispered, "Neither will I."

---

Meanwhile, Damon stood in the hallway, his reflection fragmented across a gilded mirror. Celeste approached, her steps hesitant.

"She loves you."

He turned, surprised.

"But you still don’t know what to do with that, do you?" Celeste asked softly. "You’re so focused on pretending you hate her that you’ve forgotten how to feel anything else."

"You don’t understand—"

"No. I do." She sighed, stepping closer. "I wanted a chance. But I won't compete with a ghost. Especially not one who’s still alive and dancing right in front of you."

He looked away. "I’m sorry, Celeste."

She smiled, sadly. "I know."

The party continued behind them. But for four people tonight—Damon, Aurora, Luca, and Celeste—the masquerade had lifted. And what remained was far messier than masks and music.

---

Cliffhanger Ending:

Later that night, a new headline hit the tabloids:

“Billionaire’s Ex and Heiress Rekindle Sparks at Masquerade—Caught in Intimate Dance!”

But beneath that, another photo leaked—Aurora and Luca, laughing by the fountain.

And yet another—Damon and Celeste, standing close in the corridor.

The public speculated. The whispers began. And for the four entangled hearts, tomorrow promised consequences none were ready for.