Aria woke up alone. She lay there for a moment, listening to Damian moving around in the living room, trying to put her finger on what was different. It took her a minute to figure it out.

She’d slept without a single nightmare.

She wasn’t naive enough to think talking about her kidnapping with Damian would undo all the damage. What she’d been through was traumatic, and she’d suffered enough trauma in the past to know that it never really left you. Long after she and Primo had talked about their parents’ death, long after she’d stopped having nightmares about the night of the fire, the pain and fear of it had lurked under her skin.

But there was no denying that acknowledging the pain eased its passing. The rest of it would take time — time in which she was safe and in charge of her own circumstances.

She would spend that time with Damian. Little by little, she would feel safe again. Someday the trauma of her weeks in Greece would fade to scar tissue — present but no longer painful to the touch.

She sat up and stretched, then climbed out of bed and slipped on one of the hotel robes. She walked barefoot into the living room where Damian was pouring coffee from an elaborately set room service tray.

He looked up as she came in and set down the coffee pot. He smiled and came toward her.

“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” he said, kissing her.

“I’m more interested in that coffee.” She returned his kiss, relishing the feel of his body against hers. “And the man pouring it.”

“You don’t have to choose,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “The world is your oyster.”

She wanted to believe it was true, but there was no denying that there were still obstacles between them and a future in which they could be free.

He patted her ass as she crossed to the other side of the table. She picked up one of the mugs and took a sip of the dark, bitter coffee. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, she tucked her legs under her body and reached for a croissant.

She looked up at Damian. “What now?”

She didn’t want to pretend the war wasn’t under way anymore. She didn’t want to pretend Primo wasn’t the enemy, that she and Damian could remain secluded in Paris, that their love could hold at bay the violence that would come.

She hadn’t been part of Primo’s business in New York. Hadn’t wanted to be part of it. But Damian was her lover, her soulmate. There could be no separation between his work and their life together and she could no longer fool herself into believing that turning a blind eye made her innocent.

She hadn’t been innocent all these years. She’d used Primo’s money to establish a false sense of security, to go to college, to lick the wounds she’d suffered the night her parents died.

Now she was ready to own her choices. Angel and Jenna had made their peace with the business — Angel through the charitable foundation that seemed to mean so much to her, Jenna through her unquestioning love for Farrell.

Aria would find her own way.

Damian sat across from her and studied her over his coffee cup. She had the sense that he was considering something as he watched her, that he was making some kind of decision.

“We’re going to Christophe’s cyber lab today,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “Christophe has a cyber lab?”

He nodded. “A pretty impressive one, and it pains me to say that because I’ve made cyber capability a cornerstone of my operation in New York.”

She didn’t want to make a big deal of the confession — but she knew it was one. Damian had crossed a line, including her in details of his operation that would leave him vulnerable if Primo or Malcolm ever found out.

To say nothing of Stefano Anastos.

He was sending her a message, telling her that she was part of it now — part of him.

That she was on his team.

“That’s unexpected,” she said.

“Is it?” He took a bite of the omelet in front of him. “It always seemed like a no-brainer to me. Can’t compete in this world without information. It’s the most valuable commodity that exists. And you can’t get information in this day and age without significant cyber capability. Which is why I should have suspected the Syndicate had their own operation.”

“It makes sense,” she said, spreading jam on a piece of the croissant. “It’s just more… elegant than I expected.”

“Primo didn't have a cyber operation?” Damian asked.

She shook her head. “Not like the one you’re talking about. He had people — people who did background checks, ran financials, that kind of stuff — but it was hardly a well-oiled machine.”

“He’s been working the old model,” Damian said. “A lot of the organized crime world is still working that model, which is why they’re becoming obsolete. Nico Vitale was the first one to really have his finger on the pulse of the business’s future. It almost got him killed.”

She looked up with interest. She felt like she’d been sleeping for years and years. Now she felt awake. Alert. Interested in something besides her own survival and Primo’s state of mind.

“How so?” she asked.

Damian shrugged. “I don’t know all the details, but Raneiro Donati tried to have Nico killed in response to his vision for the future of the Syndicate. He was ahead of his time, but the old school members didn’t appreciate it.”

She wondered how Angel fit into the puzzle. She had a feeling it was another story for another time.

“What happened?”

“Nico banded together with Farrell and Christophe and killed Raneiro, took over what was left of his operation, and excised the ones who weren’t willing to adopt his model,” Damian said.

“That’s what was happening when Primo gained ground in New York,” she murmured.

Damian nodded, wiped his mouth on one of the linen napkins, took another drink of coffee. “It took awhile. The Syndicate was a multinational organization. Sorting out the loyalists who wouldn’t get behind new leadership from the ones who were willing to embrace the new vision took time. They’ve only recently gained enough stability to start retaking territories like New York.”

Now she was starting to understand. “I take it that’s where you came in?”

“They approached me to take back New York,” he said. “Gave me permission to offer Primo a fair price for the territory.”

She remembered the meeting between Primo and Damian at Velvet, the beginning of the end of her old life.

The beginning of her love for Damian.

“And if he’d taken it?” she asked.

“If he’d taken it, I would have had a choice to walk away with a similar offer or take over the territory as part of the new Syndicate,” he said.

“What would you have done?” she asked.

“Back then?” He seemed to think about it. “I’m not sure. I might have taken the money and gone underground with another kind of operation. I’ve never been much of a joiner.”

“And now?”

But she already knew the answer. He would join the Syndicate — was already part of it — because of her.

“Things are different now,” he said, pushing back from the table.

She looked up at him. “Because of me?”

She hated the thought of Damian being trapped in a life he didn’t want because of her, because he’d had to call in a favor with the Syndicate to get her out of Greece.

He walked to her side of the table and looked down at her with his dark eyes. “Because of you. Because of a lot of things.”

“Did you join them because of me?”

He lowered himself next to her so they were at eye level. “Let’s just say I’ve come around to the idea of being a team player.”

She slid her hand to the back of his neck. “I just want you to be happy when this is all over, Damian.”

“Will you be with me?” he asked. “When this is all over, I mean?”

She nodded. “Always.”

“Then I’ll be happy.” He leaned in, kissed her softly. “You should get dressed.”

She remembered his words at the start of the conversation; we’re going to Christophe’s cyber lab today.

“I’m going with you today?” she asked.

His hand lingered on her face. “You’re going with me every day.”

A shiver ran up her spine at the sound of his voice, cold and hard. Was it wrong to be turned on by someone who would kill to protect her? Who would do anything to protect her?

She didn’t know, but she couldn’t deny that she was.

She stood and started for the bedroom. “Then I better get dressed.”

She dropped the robe before she reached the bedroom door. He groaned behind her.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Aria.”