Aria's POV
The moment I got home that evening, I couldn't resist calling Damian.
I sat on my couch, turning the elegant velvet box over in my hands, admiring my choice.
The sapphire cufflinks I'd bought earlier gleamed under the lamplight, and I felt a flutter of anticipation in my chest.
Would he like them? God, when had I become this person—nervous about giving a gift?
The phone rang twice before his deep voice filled my ear. "What's wrong?"
Nothing was wrong. But the way he said it—his tone was different tonight.
Softer somehow. Like warm honey dripping through the receiver, coating every word with an intimacy that made my skin tingle.
"Nothing's wrong," I said, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. "I just... I picked up something for you today. A gift."
