Chapter 207 ~His Promise~

Chapter 207 ~His Promise~
Aria's POV

I woke up to a headache pounding hard behind my eyes, sharp enough that I groaned out loud before I'd even managed to sit up properly. My mouth felt dry, my throat scratchy, and it took me a moment to piece together why my body felt this rough before the memory of the liquor bottle came back to me in fragments.
I pushed myself upright slowly, pressing the heel of my hand against my temple, and found Maeve already awake, sitting cross legged at the foot of my bed with a mischievous grin stretched wide across her face.
"What?" I asked, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
Her grin only widened. "You didn't tell me things were working out so well with the handsome Alpha."
My brows knit together in confusion, my aching head making it hard to follow whatever she was getting at. "What are you talking about?"
"I saw him carry you into the room last night," she said, practically bouncing where she sat. "Like a princess. You looked so snug tucked against his chest, all peaceful and everything. Goodness, you two look perfect together." She let out an excited little squeal that did absolutely nothing to help my headache.
The memory came rushing back all at once, the office, the liquor, his hand cupping my face, the warmth of being carried through the hallway with my head resting against his shoulder. Heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks despite every effort to stop it, and I grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it directly at her still grinning face.
"It's not what you think," I muttered, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "I need to freshen up."
Maeve was having none of it. She scrambled off the bed and followed me toward the bathroom door, still chattering excitedly about what she'd seen, tugging at my sleeve every few steps like she couldn't physically contain her enthusiasm about the whole thing. I ignored most of it, focusing instead on washing my face and trying to will my headache into submission, though nothing about Maeve's excited commentary was making that particularly easy.
Once I'd changed and splashed enough cold water on my face to feel somewhat human again, I let Maeve pull me along toward the dining room, still talking my ear off about how romantic the whole scene had apparently looked from her vantage point on the balcony. I didn't have the energy to argue with her interpretation of things, not with my head still throbbing the way it was.
The light, easy mood between us drained away the moment we stepped into the dining room and found Vivian and my father already seated, breakfast spread out in front of them.
I hesitated in the doorway, half considering turning around and heading back the way I'd come. But retreating now would only draw more attention to the awkwardness than simply sitting down and getting through the meal would. I forced myself forward and settled into an empty chair across from Vivian, keeping my eyes carefully away from my father's side of the table.
"How are you feeling?" Vivian asked, studying my face with obvious concern. "I heard about what happened yesterday. Camille, hiding among the rogues that entire time." She shook her head slowly. "I can hardly believe it. It's almost shocking she didn't use the opportunity to strike while she had the chance, being that close to everyone without anyone knowing."
My father cleared his throat uneasily at the mention of Camille's name, shifting slightly in his seat, and I caught the discomfort flickering across his face before he could fully mask it. Probably not thrilled about hearing his precious daughter's actions laid out so plainly in front of everyone at the table.
I let out a short, humorless scoff. So much for all that supposed repentance Vivian kept insisting he was drowning in.
I ignored him entirely and turned my full attention back to Vivian instead. "I know," I said. "It's terrifying to think about, honestly. But at least she's gone now. Thank goodness for that much."
As the words left my mouth, Darius's voice from the night before echoed back through my memory, low and steady, promising me she wouldn't come back, that he wouldn't let her get anywhere near me even if she tried. My chest warmed despite myself, some small, stubborn part of me choosing to believe him even though I knew better than most how unpredictable Camille could be.
Camille was gone. Truly gone this time, and given everything that meant for her, given how thoroughly she'd have to disappear to stay ahead of the search Darius had personally taken charge of, there was a real chance she wouldn't dare show her face back here again anytime soon. I held onto that thought, letting it settle something unsteady in my chest, even as the rest of me stayed stubbornly aware that hope like that had burned me before.
I reached for a piece of toast, my appetite still not fully returned, and let the conversation around the table drift elsewhere. I was fairly certain that my father was grateful for that change as the crease between his brows eased off.