Chapter 142

Roman Vale's call came while Damian Cross and Aria Bennett were watching a newly released film in a private theater. Both phones were silenced, so neither noticed the incoming call.

After the credits rolled, Damian glimpsed Roman's dinner invitation in their group chat. Deeming it unimportant, he didn't respond.

Fate had other plans—they ran into each other at the restaurant.

"Had my phone silenced this afternoon," Damian explained casually, his gaze sweeping over the trio. "How'd you find us here?"

Roman grinned, thumbing his own chest. "Spotted your back when we entered. Got your booth number from the host." They frequented this establishment and knew the owner well.

Damian nodded. "Rain check."

The dismissal couldn't have been clearer.

The three men exchanged glances. Since when did Damian prioritize romance over friendship? The old Damian would've invited them to join immediately.

Elias Vaughn tactfully tugged Roman's sleeve. "Sure, next time." Best not interfere with the man's pursuit—unless they wanted future retaliation.

Marcus Sterling's gaze lingered on Aria. He'd initially admired the woman who'd saved Damian, especially after his sister Elise's glowing reviews. But since his friend had staked his claim, Marcus knew better than to intrude.

"We'll leave you to it," he said with polished courtesy.

Roman turned to go, then froze at Marcus's address. "Master Aria?"

"Miss Bennett is a metaphysics expert," Marcus clarified. "She saved Elise."

Roman's eyes lit up as he plopped into the seat opposite Aria. "You can really do divination?"

Aria's lips curved. "Can't speak for others, but I can." She studied Roman briefly. "As a courtesy to Damian, I'll give you one reading."

"If provoked today, walk away. Otherwise—" her fingertip tapped the tabletop, "—blood calamity."

Roman scoffed. "Seriously?"

"Your choice to believe." Aria speared a slice of sashimi with deliberate grace. "If bottles start flying, protect your head."

"Alright, I'll play along." Roman rose with a dismissive chuckle, winking at Damian. "Later!"

"Remember her words," Damian said suddenly.

Roman waved him off, thinking love truly made men irrational.

After they left, Damian asked, "How bad?"

"Minor injuries." Aria accepted the shrimp he'd shelled. "A scratch at worst."

Damian nodded. The idiot could use some humbling.

As seafood dishes arrived, Aria's eyes crinkled with delight. "Damian, you're a secret gourmet, aren't you?"

"Know a few decent places." He cracked a crab claw. "I'll take you next time."

Accepting the crabmeat, Aria felt an odd warmth. Since their island ordeal, Damian treated her with inexplicable familiarity that put her at ease.

Their meal concluded with another knock.

Roman reappeared, sporting a bloody scratch and bandaged arm.

Damian arched a brow. "Couldn't resist?"

"That bastard Julian Valmont started it!" Roman grimaced, then turned shining eyes to Aria. "You're psychic!"

At the restroom, his rival had provoked him. When Roman retaliated verbally, the man smashed a bottle—but thanks to Aria's warning, he'd shielded his head, taking only an arm wound.

"Sent the jerk to jail already." Touching his injury, Roman fixed Aria with an intense stare. "Oracle, another reading?"