Chapter 1 - Welcome to the Lion’s Den

Kyle’s POV

If someone told me six months ago I’d be sitting in the private elevator of Silviero Corp, riding up to the thirty-fifth floor to meet one of the most powerful and most terrifying CEOs in the country, I would’ve laughed in their face. Probably mid-sip of a two-hundred-peso iced coffee I could barely afford.

But here I am.

Wearing a slightly-too-tight button-down and praying it hides the sweat blooming across my lower back. I check my reflection in the gold panel of the elevator. Hair: tamed. Lips: bitten to hell. Eyes: tired, but fake-confident. I can work with this.

Now?

Now I’m counting the seconds before the doors open and I get to meet the Damien Silviero.

The man behind Silviero Corp. The empire of steel, finance, and silent scandals. CEO since he was twenty-eight. Midas touch on business. Devil’s mouth in courtrooms. Ice in his veins. No one sees him outside of boardrooms and billion-peso deals.

No interviews. No charity galas. No smile in any photo.

Just raw, cold power.

And somehow, I’m about to be his personal secretary.

Which, let’s be clear,

wasn

’t even the plan.

I applied on a dare. My best friend dared me to submit my half-assed resume to a company that usually hires ex-Ivy Leaguers with robotic personalities and LinkedIn profiles that look like a spreadsheet.

I have none of that.

No business degree. No rich daddy. Just a public school education, an okay GPA, a freelance background in admin work, and a mouth that tends to get me into trouble.

Apparently, that was enough.

Or they were desperate.

Either way, HR called back. Said they were impressed with my “composure” and “communication style.”

Translation: he’s cheeky but hot enough to distract clients.

A week later, I was walking into a minimalist conference room in Makati, where the head of HR smiled like she wanted to adopt me. She told me I’d be assisting directly under the CEO himself, that I should dress sharply, avoid small talk, and her exact words, “try not to take things personally. Mr. Silviero doesn’t like noise.”

Fun. The elevator dings. Game time.

The doors slide open to a hallway that looks like a villain’s lair. Dark marble, polished steel accents, and silence that feels like it’s listening. No receptionist. No music. Just double doors at the far end, wide open like jaws waiting to snap.

I roll my shoulders back. Walk.

Every step echoes.

And then I see him.

Damien Silviero.

The first thing that hits me is how still he is.

Not calm. Still. Like a man who doesn’t move unless it’s to strike.

He sits behind a massive obsidian desk, backlit by glass windows that frame the gray, overcast skyline. Storm clouds gather behind him like a cinematic mood board. He’s in a black suit, shirt crisp and open at the collar. No tie. Jacket unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled to his forearms.

His face?

Sharp angles. Clean-shaven. Jaw like it could cut glass. And lips that look like they’ve never smiled. Not once.

He doesn’t look up. Just flips a page in the folder in front of him.

Alright. Showtime.

I stop a few feet from his desk and clear my throat. “Kyle Reyes. Reporting for duty, sir.”

His eyes lift. Just slightly.

And I swear the temperature drops by a full degree.

Those eyes are darker than I expected. Not just in color, but depth. Cold. Controlled. Unreadable.

“You’re late,” he says.

I glance at my watch. “By thirty seconds.”

“Still late.” He shuts the folder with a soft snap . “And I don’t tolerate late.”

Oookay.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to be early tomorrow,” I reply smoothly, stepping forward and adding just enough defiance to my smile to see what happens.

His brow lifts. Barely. Just a flicker.

Is that… amusement?

He doesn’t invite me to sit. So I sit anyway.

Screw it. I’ve already walked into the lion’s den, I might as well get comfortable.

“You read my file?” I nod toward the folder.

“Yes.”

“And you still hired me?”

“You’re efficient, dangerously overqualified, and annoyingly confident.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

I swallow.

Not because I’m scared. Okay, maybe a little.

But also because his voice is… dangerous. Not in the loud, aggressive way. No, his tone is quiet. Steady. Lethal like a silk rope.

Controlled like a blade. Smooth like sin. And God help me, I hate how hot that is.

“Your job is simple,” he continues. “Keep my schedule, screen calls, handle correspondence, and stay the hell out of my personal life.”

“Copy that. Any other rules I should know?”

He leans back slowly, eyes dragging over me, not in a sexual way. In a surgical way. Like he’s dissecting me without touching me. Like he already knows my tells. My angles.

“Don’t touch my coffee,” he says.

I blink. “Your… coffee.”

He gestures at a sleek espresso machine in the corner. Black. Custom. Intimidatingly complicated.

“I don’t trust anyone to make it but myself.”

Wow. We’ve got a coffee control freak. Noted.

“Noted, sir.”

He looks me dead in the eye. “Don’t call me sir.”

“What should I call you?”

“Mr. Silviero.”

I smile. “You got it, boss.”

He blinks once. Then returns to his paperwork like I didn’t just call him the one thing he told me not to.

The next ten minutes are silent.

I try not to fidget. He doesn’t look up once. His pen moves with the precision of a sniper. Everything about him screams discipline. Order. Restraint.

I lean back a little. Stretch, subtly. Arms up, just enough to lift the hem of my shirt and flash the waistband of my slacks.

Not on purpose.

…Okay, a little on purpose.

And that’s when I feel it. His eyes flick toward me. Fast and sharp. Like a blade unsheathed.

“You always this distracting, Reyes?” he asks, voice lower now.

My heart stutters. But I grin.

“Only when I’m bored.”

He shuts the folder with a snap .

“Then I suggest you get to work.”

I stand. “Gladly.”

As I head to the desk across from his, my spine straightens. I can feel him watching me. Not just looking, but watching.

His gaze lingers on the line of my back. My neck.

Heavy and hot. More like a warning.

Or a promise.

Chapter 2 - Coffee, Control, and the CEO’s Mouth

It takes less than an hour on the job for me to realize two things:

One:Damien Silviero doesn’t trust anyone.

Two:He really, really shouldn’t have hired me.

Because if he wanted someone quiet, obedient, and eager to be invisible… That’s not me. That has never been me.

My new desk sits just outside his office, a glass box in the sky. Minimalist, yes, but still screaming money. Smooth black wood. Matte-finish drawers. A high-end ergonomic chair that probably costs more than my laptop. Across from me, his office door looms, closed, quiet, heavy.

But not fully tinted.

I can see a blurred silhouette of him pacing, stopping, sitting. Like a shadow behind a wall of ice. Still. Cold. Dangerous.

I boot up my system. Outlook pings awake. Calendar, inbox, calls. His entire life laid out in rows and boxes. Everything color-coded, time-blocked, labeled down to the damn minute.

I let out a low whistle. “Control issues: confirmed.”

As expected, there’s a checklist titled CEO Preference Notes , and the top item?

Do NOT touch the espresso machine.

Use of it will result in immediate termination.

I smirk.

Wow. I wasn’t kidding. He really doesn’t trust people.

I glance at the machine in question, sleek, black chrome, resting on a side counter like a throne. Like it’s sacred. I can practically hear it hissing, “Back off, bitch.”

Still, the urge to press one button just to see what happens is strong. Too strong.

I resist. Barely.

Instead, I open the top drawer to check for supplies and find a perfectly labeled stack of folders, his system is obsessive, surgical, kind of impressive… and very, very tempting to mess with.

I peel off a sticky note and scribble:

Organized AF. Love that for you. —K

Stick. Close. Subtle rebellion.

Then I get up to stretch and find the printer.

The rest of the floor is practically dead silent. The kind of corporate hush that feels like walking through a crime scene that’s still being investigated. Everything smells like money and disinfectant.

I pass two women huddled near the copier. One of them glances at me and whispers something to the other.

“That’s the new one. Silviero’s secretary.”

Poor me, their eyes say.

I smile brightly and wave. “Yup. Pray for me.”

Their jaws drop. I continue walking.

When I return with Damien’s 10 a.m. investor agenda printed, he’s still behind his door. Still moving like he’s made of storm clouds and tension.

I sit back down and answer three emails, send two calendar invites, and debate adding “emotional support hotness” to my job title.

At exactly 9:58, his door opens.

He steps out with the elegance of someone who owns time itself.

“Follow me,” he says.

I blink. “Uh—me?”

“No, the ficus behind you.”

Right.

---

The conference room is all white marble and black glass. Ten suited men sit around the table, shifting uncomfortably in their chairs like kids about to be scolded. I get zero introductions, zero context, and zero instructions, but I figure it out.

I hand out reports. I sit. I observe.

Damien speaks only when necessary. And when he does, the room stills.

His voice isn’t loud. But people listen.

His presence bends the air.

During the third agenda point, one of the junior partners clears his throat and makes a suggestion about expanding the Borneo branch without a compliance audit.

I don’t even understand the full details, but even I know it’s dumb.

Damien’s jaw clenches a little. His fingers tighten on the pen in his hand.

Before he can speak, I lean down behind him, pretending to check something in my binder.

“Want me to order a coffin for that guy,” I whisper softly, “or just a resignation letter?”

There’s a pause.

He doesn’t turn his head. Doesn’t respond.

But his lips twitch.

The smallest crack in his armor.

Gone before anyone else notices. But I catch it.

And something about seeing that tiny, rare flicker of amusement bloom on his ice-sculpted mouth sends a low thrill through my chest.

The meeting ends. The room empties faster than a fire drill. Everyone scatters like bugs when the lights come on.

I gather the files, feeling strangely smug.

We return to the office. He says nothing. I say less.

He opens his door. I follow. He closes it behind us with a soft click that somehow sounds louder than a slam.

He turns.

“I don’t recall asking you to speak.”

“You didn’t,” I say casually, placing the stack of papers down. “But I couldn’t help myself. The look on your face was. Honestly? Worth the risk.”

He stalks forward, slow and steady, like a man who doesn’t chase prey, just corners it.

“You enjoy testing limits, Reyes?”

I meet his gaze, all teeth and calm.

“Only when they’re begging to be broken.”

He stops just in front of me.

Close enough to feel the heat between us. Close enough that I smell the faint scent of something expensive and clean clinging to his collar. Bergamot, maybe. Sandalwood. Power.

His eyes flicker downward. Just for a heartbeat.

I see it.

The breath between us grows heavier.

“You won’t last long here if you don’t learn restraint,” he says.

I tilt my head. “I’ve lasted longer in worse situations.”

“Then show me.”

He means it as a challenge. But to me? It sounds suspiciously like foreplay.

He steps back.

“Schedule the investor call for 4 PM. Push the Morano meeting to Friday. And stop putting sticky notes in my drawers.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You saw that already?”

“I see everything.”

That… doesn’t surprise me.

“Anything else?” I ask, smoothing my tie just to give him something to look at.

“Yes.” His voice is like a silk glove tightening over my throat. “Stay out of my coffee.”

I grin. “Wouldn’t want to defile the holy machine.”

He doesn’t smile. But his eyes linger on me a little too long before he turns back to his desk.

And I swear I hear him exhale quietly, tightly, as if he hates that he noticed me at all.

---

The rest of the day passes in slow tension.

Emails. Meetings. Rescheduling nightmares. A last-minute courier screw-up that I somehow fix without breaking a sweat.

Around 5:00 p.m., I start packing up. I stretch again. Slowly. Arms above my head, shirt pulling taut across my chest.

I don’t look at the glass wall. But I don’t have to.

I feel it.

The shift in energy.

Like something across the room has turned toward me with intent. Like heat crawling up the back of my neck.

I smile to myself. Let the games begin.

Chapter 3 - Little Shit

Damien’s POV

I don’t make hiring mistakes.

I don’t gamble, I don’t guess, and I don’t let chaos through my door.

And yet…

I watch him.

From behind the tinted glass of my office, I watch Kyle Reyes with a kind of irritated fascination I can’t explain.

It’s not that he’s inefficient, he’s the opposite. He had three internal conflicts diffused before noon, a client rescheduled without a whisper of complaint, and handled my calendar like he was born for it.

But it’s the way he moves.

The way he walks across the floor like the entire building is his stage. The way he stretches, always when he thinks I’m not looking. The casual elegance of his fingers as they type. The smug, knowing curve of his mouth when he catches people watching him.

He’s loud without making noise.

And he’s under my skin.

I catch myself again, staring through the haze of glass and city light as he leans back in his chair and props his foot on the leg of his desk. Casual. Disrespectful. Perfectly composed.

He doesn’t dress like a typical assistant. No neutral corporate palette. He wore a navy button-down today, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, showing golden skin and a delicate silver bracelet he absolutely knows catches the light when he gestures.

He’s like… heat, wrapped in charm, laced with something dangerous.

And he’s ruining my routine.

I’ve redone my own damn schedule three times today just to avoid passing by his desk. I’ve memorized the way his voice sounds through glass. The quick, low tone of his laugh. The exact pitch when he’s pretending to be respectful but is absolutely mocking someone.

And I hate it.

I hate how easily he got in.

10:04 a.m.

I’m reading a quarterly projection when I hear it: his voice on the phone outside my office. Confident. Casual. Slightly raised.

He’s teasing someone. Probably Legal. Probably Valdez.

I open my drawer and pull out the Montecristo cigar I’m not legally allowed to smoke in the building. I don’t light it. Just hold it between my fingers, tapping it lightly against the desk.

Another habit I haven’t done in years.

Because of him. I stand. Cross to the window.

The skyline is aggressive today. Grey clouds and threatening rain. I used to find comfort in that. The promise of distance. Isolation.

But now…

I can still hear him through the glass. Laughing again.

My jaw clenches.

11:17 a.m.

He walks into my office without knocking.

Again.

“Morano wants to move the contract signing to next week. I told them that’s not happening unless they enjoy being audited.”

He tosses the file onto my desk like it’s his room too.

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“What?” he asks.

“You need to knock.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Silently.” He smirks. “You probably missed it.”

I step around the desk slowly, like a storm rolling in slow-motion.

“Kyle.”

“Damien.”

My name from his mouth is a problem.

It’s smooth, informal. A threat wrapped in silk. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t drop his gaze. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

He’s waiting for me to break the tension.

I don’t.

He does.

“Anyway,” he continues, “your espresso machine has a maintenance light on. Want me to call someone?”

“No,” I say tightly.

“Right. Sacred object. Got it.”

He turns.

And as he’s walking out, he pauses at my bookshelf. Fingertips gliding across the spines of hardbound volumes arranged by century and author.

Don’t.

He pulls one out.

Voltaire.

“Light reading,” he says. “Didn’t peg you for a nihilist.”

“Put it back.”

He does.

But not before smirking again.

1:42 p.m.

I’m in a call with the head of acquisition when Kyle slips a note under my glass of water.

I keep talking as I lift it slightly and read:

Reminder: 3 PM with the devil in HR. You love her. Be nice. —K

My lips twitch. The slightest curve.I bite it back immediately.

By the time I glance up, he’s gone.

3:00 p.m.

I return to find a fresh espresso waiting on my desk.

No one’s supposed to touch the machine.

Only I use it. That’s the rule.

I stare at the cup. Steam curls upward. Perfect crema. Balanced color.

He touched it. That little shit. The espresso machine was off-limits, my one ritual, my one boundary no one had ever dared cross. And yet, here it was. A fresh cup, expertly made, steam curling into the air like an invitation. I lifted it to my nose, taking in the dark roast and the subtle, almost sinful notes of hazelnut and heat. It smelled incredible.

Too good and just suspiciously perfect. My lips brushed the rim, and I tasted it. Rich. Bold. Balanced. Just the way I liked it. Damn him. I drank it.

4:12 p.m.

He’s talking to Rafael from Strategy. Too close. Too smiley. Too… easy.

His laugh rings down the hall.

I don’t hear what Rafael says, but Kyle touches his arm, and my spine snaps straight.

Possessive is not in my vocabulary. Not anymore.

But watching Kyle charm someone else feels like a splinter under my skin.

When Kyle returns, I pretend not to look at him. Pretend not to watch the way his collar is slightly askew. Pretend I didn’t just change his entire assignment list so he’ll be too busy to socialize for the rest of the week.

Call it management.

Call it control.

Call it whatever you want.

I need the chaos contained.

5:58 p.m.

He stretches.

Again.

His back arches slightly. His arms extend above his head. The hem of his shirt lifts.

Skin flashes. Golden and smooth. The small of his back, the waistband of his slacks, a tease of something I shouldn’t want to see.

But I do.

God help me, I do.

And I don’t look away.

He turns—catches me.

Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t apologize.

He winks.

Then grabs his bag and heads for the elevator.

6:07 p.m.

The floor is silent now.

He’s gone.

His scent still lingers, warm and sharp, something like citrus and danger. His chair is empty, but tilted like he left in a rush. A folder sits half-shoved into the inbox tray.

Untidy.

Wrong.

But I don’t fix it.

Instead, I sit behind my desk.

And for the first time in years, I type an email I don’t send.

To: Kyle Reyes Subject: You’re a problem. Body: You get under my skin in ways I do not permit. You laugh too loudly. You wear your confidence like a weapon. You taste like something I shouldn’t want.

I delete it.

Immediately.

Then I open my camera feed.

And replay the security footage from today.

Just for a second.

Just to see him walk.

Just to remember how he smiled.

Chapter 4 - Coffee and Complications

Kyle’s POV

I made him coffee again.

Same as yesterday. Same beans, same pressure, same amount of foam. But this time, I didn’t need the instructions taped to the side of the espresso machine. I memorized them, because I’ve been watching. Because I pay attention. Because it’s him.

Damien Silviero. My boss and my problem.

I hate that I know how he likes his coffee. I hate that I care. But most of all, I hate that a part of me looks forward to these quiet, early morning rituals. Him in his office. Me with my trembling hands. The hum of tension between us like a song only we can hear.

I walk in and set the coffee on his desk. No ceremony, no greeting. Just me pretending I don’t notice how he’s in the same sharp black suit from yesterday, minus the tie today. His collar’s undone, and the edge of his throat, smooth, tan, infuriatingly perfect taunts me.

He doesn’t look up at first. Just lifts the cup, takes a sip, and sets it down like I didn’t just pour my entire morning into it. Like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing.

No compliment. No insult. Nothing. Just that unreadable expression he always wears, cool and confident, like nothing can touch him.

“Meeting with the board at ten,” I say, sliding the folder across the desk.

He glances at it, fingers tapping lightly on the edge. “Driver’s still on time for the 8:30 with the city planner?”

“Waiting downstairs,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.

His gaze flicks to me. It lingers. “Anything else, Reyes?”

My name again. From his mouth, it sounds like something forbidden.

I clear my throat. “No, Mr. Silviero.”

His lips twitch. The corner lifts like he’s fighting a smirk.

It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from him all week. And it makes my chest tighten.

I turn quickly, walking toward the door. But I feel it, the weight of his stare, dragging down my spine like heat, like silk, like danger.

He watches me. Always. Like he’s trying to decide whether I’m worth keeping or worth breaking.

And the worst part? I don’t think I want him to stop.

—

It’s past noon when I finally look up from my screen. I’ve spent the last hour juggling appointments after one of the investors moved a meeting. I forgot to eat. My stomach growls just as I hear his voice behind me.

“You haven’t eaten.”

I jump, nearly knocking over my coffee mug.

Damien stands casually by my desk, sleeves rolled up, top two buttons undone, holding a glass of water. He’s effortless. And terrifying. That rare mix of charisma and control that turns people into yes-men.

I’m not supposed to want him.

But when he leans in like that, when his voice drops to that low, smoky tone, I forget why I shouldn’t.

“Didn’t have time,” I mutter, minimizing his schedule on my screen. My voice comes out hoarse.

He places a brown paper bag on my desk. “Eat. That’s an order.”

I blink. “You bought me lunch?”

“I ordered too much.”

Lie.

I know it’s a lie. He didn’t even eat today. I’d know, I watch him just as much as he watches me.

Still, I reach for the bag, heart thudding.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back. He just watches. Eyes dark, calculating, hungry.

His scent hits me, wood, spice, and something uniquely Damien. It coils around me like smoke.

“You keep doing that,” he murmurs.

I swallow. “Doing what?”

“Looking at me like you want something you’re too afraid to take.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

His voice lowers, barely a whisper. “I don’t bite, Reyes. Not unless you ask.”

My knees go weak.

He finally leans back. “Enjoy your lunch.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

I sit there frozen for a full minute before I dare open the bag. It’s exactly what I would’ve ordered. Down to the sauce on the side. Down to the way the napkins are folded.

He didn’t guess.

He asked someone. Or worse, he already knew.

By the time I get home that night, I’m a mess. My fingers tremble as I undress. I run a hot shower, but it doesn’t burn away the echo of his voice. The memory of his eyes.

I towel off, wrap myself in a robe, and sit on the edge of the bed. My thoughts are a storm. And in the center, always, is Damien.

I close my eyes.

I can still feel his breath near my ear.

“Not unless you ask.”

I hate him.

I hate the way he walks into a room and shifts the air, like gravity itself leans toward him.

I hate how his voice lingers long after he’s stopped speaking, like a song stuck in my head I didn’t ask for.

I hate that I can feel him even when he’s not there, like some phantom heat on my skin, like his presence has sunk beneath the surface of me.

I hate the way he looks at me, like he sees everything I try to hide, and worse, like he likes what he sees.

I hate how he’s inside my head.

Every thought. Every breath. Every quiet second between meetings.

His name, his mouth, the way he said my name like it was a secret. It loops in my mind like a spell I can’t shake off.

And most of all, I hate how much I want him to stay there.

I want him carved into my thoughts.

I want the ache.

I want the chaos he brings.

Because even though he drives me mad, even though he makes me question everything I thought I wanted, some twisted part of me is starting to think he’s the only thing that makes sense.

And that terrifies me more than anything.

—

The next morning, I find a note stuck to the espresso machine.

“Stronger. Less foam. I think you can handle that. — D.”

My hands shake as I start the coffee.

And all I can think is: fuck.

I’m already in too deep.

Chapter 5 - Proximity

Kyle’s POV

I’m early. Again.

The office is quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below. I settle into my desk, fingers tapping absently on the keyboard. It’s still dark outside, the skyline barely outlined in ash-blue hues. But I like it this way, before he arrives. Before the air changes.

Because it always does, the moment he walks in.

I tried not to think about it last night. About the way his voice dropped when he said I was afraid. About how I couldn’t sleep, not from stress, not from caffeine but because of him.

Damien fucking Silviero.

I rub the back of my neck and check his schedule again, even though I already triple-checked it. No mistakes. Nothing to fuss over. No excuse to stay buried in work and ignore everything churning inside me.

At 7:02, the elevator dings.

Footsteps. Confident. Sharp. And then there he is.

His suit is tailored to perfection. Dark navy today. He brushes past me, not saying a word, but I smell him, clean and expensive, and I feel the air shift.

“Coffee?” I offer, standing before I can think better of it.

He pauses at his office door, tilts his head just slightly, like he’s listening to something only he can hear.

“Make it strong.”

As if it wasn’t already.

—

By the time I bring it in, he’s at his desk, sleeves rolled, jacket off, already flipping through reports. I set the mug down carefully, but his hand brushes mine as he reaches for it.

Too close. Too fast. Too much.

I draw back like I’ve been burned. His eyes flick up.

“Something wrong?”

“No.”

He takes a sip, watching me over the rim. He doesn’t say thank you, doesn’t need to. I’ve stopped expecting it.

“Calendar’s clear until ten,” I say, voice steady. “Do you want me to hold your calls?”

“No. Stay.”

That one word lands heavy.

“Excuse me?”

He gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit. You’ve been on edge all morning.”

I hesitate. “I have reports to finish.”

“I don’t care.”

And somehow, that’s worse.

I sit. He watches me, silent, until I want to crawl out of my own skin. But I hold his gaze. I have to.

“I’m not on edge,” I say eventually. “I just don’t like being told what to do.”

His smirk is slow, predatory. “That’s a lie.”

My jaw tightens. “You think you know everything.”

“I don’t need to know everything.” He leans back, the fabric of his shirt stretching over his chest. “Just enough.”

It’s infuriating. The way he takes up space. The way he looks at me like I’m something he’s already unraveled, even when I don’t understand a damn thing going on inside me.

Like why my stomach flips when he’s near.

Like why I keep remembering the heat of his breath the other day.

Like why I want him to keep looking at me like that.

I hate him.

I hate how he’s inside my head.

And most of all, I hate how much I want him to stay there.

—

Later, I find myself walking past his office. I should go home. It’s late. The lights are dim in the hallway. But he’s still in there. Tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, brows furrowed over some contract.

I stop. Stare. Just for a second.

He looks up.

Fuck.

Our eyes lock. And instead of waving me off, he nods slowly. An invitation.

I pretend not to see it. Keep walking.

But even as I step into the elevator, heart thudding, my reflection catches my eye in the mirrored walls.

I look flushed. Wired.

Like a man running from something.

Or worse, toward it.

My morning starts like always. His coffee. Precise. Bold. Slightly sweet.

I make it with steady hands, but inside, I’m buzzing. Not from caffeine. From him. From everything unsaid.

I don’t know when it started, this awareness. This tension that coils in the air between us like a live wire.

I leave the cup on his desk. He glances at it. Nods.

“You’re getting better at it.”

It’s almost a compliment.

“Practice,” I say, my voice tighter than I’d like.

He hums and sips, his gaze flicking to me over the rim of the cup. I shift under the weight of it, suddenly hot under my collar.

I turn to leave, but he calls after me. “Reyes.”

I stop. Look over my shoulder.

“Lunch today,” he says. “You’re coming with me.”

Not a question. A statement.

“Sir?”

He smirks. “I’ll need your input on the contractor files. Don’t be late.”

And just like that, I’m dismissed.

—

The car ride is quiet. Tense. He’s on his phone, thumb scrolling, lips pressed together.

I keep my eyes forward, trying not to notice the way his thigh is almost touching mine. Trying not to notice the way my heart’s beating a little faster.

It’s ridiculous. I’m straight. I’ve always been straight. I’ve dated women. Slept with them. I know what I like.

So why the hell do I feel like I’m about to come undone just sitting next to this man?

The car slows. We stop in front of a low-lit, discreet-looking restaurant tucked between office towers. Not the kind of place you take a personal assistant for a work lunch.

We’re led to a private booth. He orders for both of us, like he’s done this a thousand times. I want to protest, but I don’t.

When the food comes, I focus on eating. Focus on chewing. Swallowing. Breathing. Anything but the way he’s watching me from across the table.

“How long have you worked for me now?” he asks, tone casual.

“Six months.”

“Feels longer.”

I nod. “That’s what happens when the days are intense.”

He laughs. Low. Rich. It does something to my spine.

“They are, aren’t they?”

I drink my water. Avoid his eyes. But I can feel them dragging over me like heat.

He doesn’t say anything else for a while. Just eats. Watches. Like he’s figuring out what to do with me.

And I hate that part of me wants to know what he’ll decide.

—

Back at the office, he has me follow him into the lounge area attached to his private suite. It’s not often I’m invited in here. The air smells like cedar and his cologne.

“I have a call in ten. Stay and go through those contracts,” he says, gesturing to a stack on the side table.

I sit. Start reading. He walks to the far window, back turned, phone in hand.

“I said no, Martin. Push it to next quarter.” His voice is cold. Commanding.

I should focus. But my eyes drift. The way his shirt fits across his back. The smooth motion of his fingers through his hair.

My throat feels tight.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He ends the call, tosses his phone onto the couch, and turns to face me. There’s something unreadable in his expression.

“You’re quiet today,” he says.

“I’m working.”

“Are you?”

My jaw clenches. “What do you want me to say?”

He walks closer. Each step calculated. He stops in front of me, towering.

“I want you to be honest.”

My breath catches. “About what?”

He doesn’t answer.

He just stares.

The moment stretches. The air shifts. My chest feels tight, like I can’t take in enough oxygen.

Then, mercifully, his phone rings again. He turns away, answering without looking back.

I grab the folder and bolt.

—

In the safety of the elevator, I press my back to the mirrored wall, eyes closed.

What the fuck was that?

I should be scared. Or furious. Or at least uncomfortable.

But the truth is worse.

I liked it.

I wanted more.

And I have no idea what that means.

No idea who I am if this keeps happening.

But one thing’s for sure:

Damien Silviero is dangerous.

And I think I’m starting to crave the danger.

Chapter 6 - Suit

Kyle’s POV

I adjusted my tie for the third time in the tinted mirror of Damien’s sleek black car. The suit I wore wasn’t mine of course it wasn’t. Damien had it tailored just for me, without asking, with perfect accuracy. Midnight blue. Slim fit. Subtle silk lapel. It fit me like a goddamn second skin.

I should’ve been pissed. I should’ve felt insulted, maybe even violated. I hated being treated like some doll to be dressed up for someone else’s amusement.

But instead, I was sweating. Not from the heat. Not from the pressure. From something else entirely. Something that started at the base of my spine and crawled upward every time I thought about his hands, his eyes, his voice saying my name like it meant something.

“You look good,” Damien said from the other end of the backseat. His voice was low, casual, like he wasn’t paying attention. But I knew better. I could feel his gaze sliding over me, slow and sure, like the heat of a brand.

I cleared my throat, eyes trained on the passing lights outside the window. My reflection stared back at me, unfamiliar. The man in the glass looked sharp. Polished. Like he belonged in Damien’s world. I didn’t recognize him.

“You didn’t have to buy me a suit,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

He hummed. “I didn’t. I had it made.”

I glanced at him. Big mistake.

Damien Silviero in a tux was lethal. All black. No tie. The first few buttons of his shirt undone just enough to tease the ink on his skin. He looked like sin incarnate, carved from shadows and smooth arrogance.

And he was watching me like I was the most interesting thing in the room.

I looked away before he saw the heat crawling up my neck.

“Why am I even here?” I muttered.

“Because your presence calms me,” he said simply.

Like it was that easy. Like I wasn’t coming apart inside just sitting beside him.

He didn’t look at me when he said it. Just tapped his fingers on the leather seat, his profile cut sharp against the dim lights of the city.

I turned back to the window. My throat felt tight.

What the hell was happening to me?

—

The ballroom was suffocating. Too many people, too much perfume, too many fake smiles stretched over sharp teeth. Damien glided through them all like he owned the place. Maybe he did.

I walked a step behind him, hands clenched at my sides. His world wasn’t mine. These people spoke in currencies I didn’t understa. Power, reputation, veiled threats.

And through it all, Damien never let me stray far. His fingers brushed mine now and then. His hand found the small of my back when the crowd got too thick. The touches were light. Measured. They should’ve been meaningless.

They weren’t.

Every time he touched me, something inside me jolted.

“You’re tense,” he murmured once, his breath ghosting against my ear.

I nearly jumped.

“Relax,” he added. “You’re safe.”

Was I?

We eventually made our way toward a quieter corner of the venue, a glass door opened to a stone balcony, dimly lit by golden sconces. I stepped out without asking. I needed air. Distance. Time to breathe without Damien too close.

He followed, of course.

I leaned against the cool stone railing, exhaling hard. Below us, the city pulsed. But up here, everything was still.

“You did well in there,” he said after a beat. “You handled yourself.”

I didn’t answer.

He lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face. I hated how good he looked doing something so simple. Like he was made for it.

“This suit fits you better than I imagined,” he said, more to himself than to me.

“Why me?” I asked suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You could’ve brought anyone. Why me?”

He took a drag of his cigarette. “You’re not like them.”

That wasn’t an answer. Not really.

“I don’t belong here,” I muttered.

He stepped closer. “Neither do I.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Bullshit.”

“You think money makes belonging automatic?” His tone was sharp now. “These people don’t accept anyone. They tolerate. They calculate. They survive. I’ve just learned how to play better than most.”

I stared at him. At the way the shadows caught in the hollows of his face.

“You brought me here to what? Prove something?”

He shook his head slowly. “I brought you because I wanted to.”

That shut me up.

I looked down at the street below. The night was quiet, but inside me, everything screamed. I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what this was.

I only knew that when he looked at me like that, I forgot how to breathe.

“I should go back in,” I said, already stepping away.

But then his hand caught mine. Just briefly.

It wasn’t a grip. It wasn’t a pull. Just a touch. Skin on skin.

I froze.

He let go just as quickly. As if he’d tested something. As if he already knew the result.

“I’ll be inside when you’re ready,” he said, walking away.

Leaving me with my heart pounding in my throat.

—

Later, back in the car, silence settled heavily between us. The kind that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

I stared straight ahead.

Damien didn’t say anything. But I could feel him. His gaze. His presence. Always there, like gravity.

“Thanks for the suit,” I said finally, hating how stiff my voice sounded.

“You’re welcome,” he said easily.

I looked at him. He was watching me, but not demanding. Not pressing.

Just… waiting.

“I’m not—” I started, then stopped.

He didn’t move.

“I’m not used to this,” I muttered.

“You don’t have to be.”

I looked away.

He reached forward and poured himself a drink from the car’s minibar. Then, without asking, he poured one for me too.

He handed it over. Our fingers brushed.

I took it.

The drink burned going down. But not as much as the look he gave me when I met his eyes again.

I couldn’t name what passed between us at that moment.

I didn’t dare try.

We reached the penthouse just after midnight. I stepped out of the car first, trying to mask the tension in my shoulders. Damien followed without a word.

Inside, the elevator ride stretched out in silence. Each floor we passed felt like a countdown.

When we reached the top, he unlocked the door and gestured for me to go in first. I hesitated, then stepped inside.

The place was dark, lit only by the city lights filtering through the massive windows.

“I’ll get changed,” I said, not turning around.

Damien’s voice came quiet behind me. “There’s no rush.”

But I rushed anyway.

Inside the guest room, I peeled off the suit with trembling hands. My fingers shook as I unbuttoned the shirt. My reflection in the mirror looked back at me, eyes wide, mouth tight, skin flushed.

What the hell is happening to me?

I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not about him. Not about anyone. I didn’t even know what this was.

It wasn’t about sex.

It wasn’t even about attraction.

It was about how he made the air feel electric. How he disarmed me without lifting a finger. How he looked at me like I mattered more than I ever had before.

It scared the hell out of me.

I laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Damien didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. I heard his footsteps just outside the door… and then retreating down the hall.

He hadn’t followed me this time.

And that, somehow, made me ache more.

I closed my eyes.

And I dreamed of him anyway.

Chapter 7 - Silence

Kyle’s POV

It was supposed to be just another Wednesday. Just another long day buried in spreadsheets, dodging glances, and pretending that everything wasn’t slowly unraveling inside me.

But the problem was Damien. The problem was that silence didn’t feel like silence anymore when he was around. It felt like something waiting to happen.

He hadn’t said much since Monday. No smart remarks. No hovering over my desk. No comments about my tie. He was… quiet.

Too quiet.

And I hated how I noticed. Hated how much I noticed.

“Hey, Kyle?” one of the interns called from across the conference room. “Do you know if Mr. Silviero wants the board slides on paper or digital?”

“Digital,” I replied automatically, fingers stiff on the touchpad.

The meeting hadn’t started yet, but everyone was gathering. My stomach twisted when I saw Damien walk in, immaculately put together in a deep navy suit, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the sharp curve of his wristwatch. His expression was unreadable.

He didn’t look at me.

Good. That was good. That’s what I wanted.

Right?

I sat two seats away from him, deliberately choosing a chair that wouldn’t make it look like I was avoiding him, even though I absolutely was. His presence felt like a hum beneath my skin. I kept my eyes trained on the projection screen, even when his voice filled the room.

Professional, poised, and controlled. I hated the way it thrilled something deep in me.

The meeting passed in a blur. Notes. Slides. Graphs. I barely heard any of it. Every so often, I’d glance sideways but never at him, just near him. Just enough to see the lines of tension in his jaw or the subtle way he leaned back in his chair like he was bored with all of it.

He only looked at me once.

And it was enough to unravel me.

Later that afternoon, I was in the archive room trying to find a signed contract Damien had supposedly misplaced. It was stupid. It wasn’t my job to dig through two-year-old files, but I needed the escape. The air in the office had felt too heavy. Like it was pressing against my ribs.

The door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn around.

I didn’t have to.

The silence changed.

“I said I’d find it myself,” Damien’s voice said quietly behind me.

I didn’t reply. Just kept flipping through folders.

“Or maybe,” he added, stepping further inside, “you wanted to get away from your desk. Away from me.”

I froze for half a second before pulling out a contract. “Found it.”

I tried to walk past him, but he didn’t move from the doorway. His gaze met mine, calm, steady, almost bored. But I saw the flicker of something else. Frustration. Curiosity. Tension.

He didn’t say anything.

I hated that too.

Because this silence, it wasn’t the cold kind.

It was loud.

It screamed.

“Do you need anything else?” I asked.

His eyes flicked to my mouth. Then back up.

“No.”

I stepped around him.

He let me go.

But I felt it. His eyes on my back the entire way out.

I stayed late that night. Made excuses about paperwork, unfinished reports. But really, I just didn’t want to go home. The thought of lying in bed and staring at the ceiling with all this heat crawling under my skin made my throat close up.

I found myself outside on the rooftop balcony at 10 p.m., city lights flickering below, wind brushing through my sleeves. My phone buzzed once. Then again.

Damien.

I didn’t answer.

He came up ten minutes later.

Of course he did.

He didn’t say anything. Just leaned against the railing a few feet from me, hands in his pockets, tie loosened, hair slightly wind-swept. He looked less like a CEO and more like someone caught mid-thought.

We stood there for a long time.

Nothing between us but the hum of the city.

“I don’t get you,” he said finally.

I swallowed. “Good.”

“You run hot and cold,” he said. “One day, you glare at me like I kicked your dog. The next, you look at me like I’m the one thing holding you together.”

My pulse jumped.

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

Silence.

God, the silence again.

I stared down at the street, breathing in slowly.

“I’m not—” I began, then stopped.

“You’re not what?”

I turned to face him, fists tightening in my coat pockets.

“I’m not… interested.”

He smiled. But it wasn’t amused. It was soft. And tired.

“You keep telling yourself that,” he said, voice lower now. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“It’s not like that,” I said, barely louder than the wind.

Damien didn’t move closer. But it felt like he had. Just by saying that.

He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded once, like he was backing off. Like he could see the cliff edge I was standing on and had the decency not to push.

“I’ll stop talking now,” he said, and walked away.

I stayed up there alone until midnight, wind stinging my face, heartbeat echoing in my ears.

Because I didn’t know how to lie to myself anymore.

And I didn’t even know what the truth even was.

Chapter 8 - Kiss

Kyle’s POV

The VIP room smelled like money. Not the crisp, clean kind in a bank vault, but the heavy kind, aged whiskey, polished wood, and expensive cigars. The lights were low, golden, casting everything in that warm, hazy glow that made people loosen ties and loosen tongues.

Damien sat beside me at the long, mahogany table, one arm resting lazily on the armrest of his leather chair. I knew this meeting was important, some merger talk with an investment firm whose head looked like he could buy the entire city and still have spare change.

I’d been warned to stay sharp, keep notes, and most importantly, keep my mouth shut unless Damien said otherwise.

Which I did. Mostly.

When drinks were served, cut crystal tumblers of amber liquid, I accepted mine with a polite nod.

The man across the table smiled at me in that way men do when they’re testing boundaries. Early thirties, strong jaw, perfect suit, and a confidence that screamed old money.

“You must be Damien’s secretary,” he said smoothly, leaning forward just enough for the scent of his cologne to drift my way. “He always did have good taste in staff.”

I glanced at Damien, but he was engaged with the head of the firm, expression carved in stone. “I keep his schedule,” I said, keeping it professional.

“Schedules are important,” the man replied, his smirk deepening. “I bet you’re very… precise.”

The conversation shifted back to numbers and legal terms, but every so often, the bachelor would shoot me a look.

A slow, appraising one. And maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe I was just tired, but I didn’t look away as quickly as I should have.

Hours passed. The deal closed late in the evening with firm handshakes and murmured congratulations. The atmosphere loosened, laughter replacing strategy.

I caught Damien watching me. His expression was unreadable, cold, distant, but there was a sharpness in his gaze when he noticed the younger man leaning toward me again.

I told myself I imagined it.

The man poured me another drink. We talked, about travel, about the city skyline, about nothing important. His knee brushed mine under the table, and I pretended not to notice.

When Damien finally stood to leave, I glanced at him. “You can go. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t say goodnight. Just gave a curt nod and walked out, his tailored suit disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

And for some reason, that stung more than it should have.

I stayed. Had another drink. Maybe two. My head felt pleasantly light, but my thoughts were annoyingly heavy, looping back to Damien’s face, his silence, the way he didn’t look back when he left. Why did it bother me? He was my boss. Nothing more.

“Still here?”

The voice was smooth and familiar, the bachelor again. He slipped into the chair beside me, his smile all charm and invitation. “I was hoping we could have a little time without your boss around.”

I tried to laugh it off, but my pulse was betraying me.

He leaned closer. “You know… I could show you a better view of the city than this place.”

Before I could respond, before his hand could brush mine, someone’s shadow fell over the table.

And then Damien’s hand was on my shoulder, firm, possessive, pulling me out of the chair like I weighed nothing.

“That’s enough,” Damien said, his voice low and icy.

The bachelor straightened, surprise flickering across his face. “We were just talking.”

“I wasn’t asking for clarification,” Damien replied without looking at him. His grip on my shoulder tightened just enough for me to feel the warning.

I stared up at him, heart pounding, not sure if I was more shocked by the suddenness of it… or by how much I didn’t want him to let go.

–

The elevator doors slid open. “Kyle,” Damien’s voice cut through the hallway, low but sharp.

I turned from my desk, confused. “Sir?”

He didn’t answer, just strode toward me, his hand catching my arm in one swift motion.

“Sir, what—?”

“Come,” he said, tone clipped.

Before I could ask anything, he was already pulling me down the hall. His grip was firm, unyielding, as if any attempt to shake him off would be pointless.

The other employees who were still lingering pretended not to watch, but I caught the curious glances. My heart thudded in my chest. What was happening? Did I do something wrong?

We reached the private elevator. Damien swiped a card I’d never seen him use before. The doors closed behind us with a soft thunk.

The silence was unbearable. “Sir, where are we going?”

He didn’t even glance at me. “Quiet.”

I swallowed the dozens of questions in my throat. The elevator climbed steadily, each floor passing with a soft chime that only made my unease grow.

After what felt like forever, the doors opened, not to the usual sleek hallway of his office floor, but to something entirely different.

Warm lighting. Dark marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering city skyline. The faint scent of expensive cologne and leather lingered in the air.

I froze at the threshold. “This… isn’t—”

“My penthouse,” Damien said simply, letting go of my arm.

I blinked at him. “Y-your penthouse?”

There had always been rumors in the office. That Damien’s penthouse was off-limits. That not even his most trusted secretaries had ever been inside. It was a place spoken of like a myth, part of his untouchable image.

And yet, here I was. Standing in the middle of it.

I looked at him, bewildered. “Why am I here?”

Damien’s gaze locked onto mine, unreadable as ever. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the quiet room.

“You ask too many questions, Kyle.”

“But—”

“Do you want me to send you back?” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower.

I bit my lip. “…No.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips. “Then stay. And don’t make me repeat myself again.”

I didn’t know if it was intimidation or something else entirely, but my chest tightened. For some reason, my feet wouldn’t move, except to follow when he turned away, as if being here was inevitable.

He stood on the opposite side, hands in his pockets, looking as unshakable as ever. The city lights reflected off the sharp planes of his face, making him look even more untouchable.

I should’ve said something, anything, but my tongue felt heavy. He wasn’t exactly a man who invited casual conversation.

Damien walked ahead without looking back.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, his tone clipped, as if ‘comfortable’ was a foreign concept in this place.

I set my bag down on the pristine couch. “It’s beautiful here,” I murmured, more to myself than to him.

He glanced at me briefly, then headed toward the bar. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

He poured something amber into two glasses and handed me one. His fingers brushed mine for half a second. Long enough to feel the heat of his skin, short enough to make me wonder if I imagined it.

I took a sip. Smooth, but strong. The warmth pooled in my chest.

Damien leaned against the bar, his gaze fixed on me like he was assessing a business deal. “You’re quieter than usual.”

I laughed nervously. “It’s your fault. This place is intimidating.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “You’re intimidated by a penthouse?”

“No,” I said, setting the glass down, “by its owner.”

That earned me a small, unreadable look before he walked toward the windows. He stood there, hands in his pockets, staring out at the city like it belonged to him. Maybe it did.

I found myself drifting closer, drawn by something I couldn’t name.

“You really don’t sleep, do you?” I asked softly.

“Rarely.”

“Why?”

“Too much noise in my head.” His voice was low, almost distracted.

I wanted to ask more, but there was a weight in the air that made me hesitate. Instead, I stood beside him, the glow of the city casting light across his profile.

He turned his head, and suddenly, he was looking straight at me. The kind of look that felt like it stripped away everything I thought I could hide.

The silence stretched, and I became hyper-aware of how close we were. My pulse quickened. His expression hadn’t softened, but there was something different, something searching, in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he said quietly.

“How am I looking at you?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Like you want me to do something we’ll both regret.”

My breath caught. “Maybe I do.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he’d step back. But instead, he took one step closer. Close enough that I could feel his breath.

“Don’t play with me, Kyle,” He said my name like a warning, but it didn’t sound like he meant to stop.

The space between us felt like a taut wire, one that could snap with the slightest movement. I didn’t know who leaned in first. Maybe it was both of us.

He gripped my arm, firm enough that my breath caught. I instinctively tried to step back, but the wall behind me ended that thought. Compared to his towering frame, I didn’t stand a chance.

“S-sir…”

His perfect jaw tightened, the sharp line flexing under his skin. Those thick brows drew together in a frown that was dark and dangerous. His eyes burned into mine, and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or something far more consuming.

My pulse thundered in my ears. He scared me.

“Mr. Silviero…” I finally breathed out, my voice trembling. My palm pressed against his chest, an instinctive barrier, but his body didn’t yield. His presence was unmovable, like he was daring me to try harder.

The scent of his cologne surrounded me, all clean spice and something masculine that made my knees weak.

He leaned closer, and his deep voice rumbled low, almost like a growl. “I don’t like it when other people get your attention, Reyes.” His eyes dipped briefly to my lips, then back to my gaze, sharp as glass. “You’re mine.”

A shiver shot through me, not entirely from fear.

But when his mouth finally brushed mine, it wasn’t soft. It was controlled, deliberate, like he was allowing himself a dangerous indulgence he’d been fighting against for too long.

His hand came up to grip the back of my neck, fingers digging in just enough to hold me there. The other pressed against my hip, forcing me against the wall so hard I felt the thud reverberate in my ribs.

His lips moved over mine in rough, claiming strokes, no hesitation, no gentleness. His mouth parted, and he took what he wanted, teeth grazing before his tongue pushed past my lips.

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. I tasted the heat of his breath, the faint trace of coffee and something darker, more dangerous. Him.

I pushed back, maybe out of instinct, maybe out of pride, but he only deepened the kiss, one hand sliding into my hair and tightening until I had no choice but to meet him, match him.

It was a clash. Mouths colliding, teeth knocking, breath stolen.

When he finally pulled back, our lips were swollen, breaths ragged, foreheads pressed together. His voice was low, dangerous.

“Don’t make me remind you again who you belong to.”

---

Chapter 9 - Jealousy

I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in his penthouse, not with my heart hammering like it knew something my brain wouldn’t admit.

I opened my phone to read Damien’s message.

Meet me at my penthouse.

The door opened with a low chime, revealing Damien leaning against the marble kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose like he’d stopped caring halfway through the day.

His gaze flicked to me, sharp, assessing. But didn’t linger longer than necessary.

“You’re late,” he said flatly.

“I didn’t know there was a clock-in time for… whatever this is,” I replied, shutting the door behind me.

He didn’t smile. Damien rarely did. “There’s a clock-in time for everything, Kyle. You just don’t take anything seriously enough to notice.”

“Or maybe I just don’t take you seriously,” I said, walking farther in, pretending I wasn’t eyeing the open collar of his shirt or the way his veins ran along his forearms.

His jaw tightened. “Careful.”

It should’ve been a warning. Instead, it was an invitation.

I tossed my jacket on the arm of his leather sofa. “What’s the plan tonight? Another silent dinner where you pretend I’m not here?”

Damien’s eyes shifted to me fully then, slow and deliberate, like a predator finally deciding to acknowledge prey. “If you want to leave, the door’s behind you.”

“And if I don’t?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he poured himself a drink, the clink of ice echoing through the room. He poured a second glass, mine, and set it on the counter without looking at me.

“You always this charming, or is it just me that gets the special treatment?” I asked, walking up to take it.

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” he said, sipping his whiskey.

I smirked. “Then why am I still here?”

His gaze lingered this time. “That’s what I’m starting to ask myself.”

The air between us thickened. He leaned a hip against the counter, still looking at me like he was trying to figure out how much trouble I was worth.

“You stare a lot,” I said.

“You talk a lot,” he replied.

“Guess that makes us even.” I took a sip, letting the burn settle in my throat. “So what’s your deal, Damien? You always this… fun at parties?”

“Parties aren’t my thing.”

“Right. You’re more the ‘brood in a penthouse’ type.”

His lips twitched, just slightly, but enough for me to notice.

I stepped closer, my voice dropping. “You ever let anyone in here who actually makes you laugh?”

“Careful,” he said again, his voice lower now.

I matched it. “Or what?”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the distance shrinking without either of us acknowledging it. His shoulders were tense, his grip on the glass tighter than necessary.

“You think you’re clever,” he murmured.

“No,” I said. “I think I’m right.”

The air felt heavy enough to drown in. His gaze flicked to my mouth and then back up, quick enough that he might’ve thought I wouldn’t notice.

But I did.

And I wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” I said, stepping close enough that I could feel the heat from his body.

Damien’s jaw worked. “You wouldn’t like what happens if I stop holding back.”

“Try me.”

That was all it took.

He moved first, fast, like he’d been holding the tension by the throat and finally let it go. His hand caught the back of my neck, pulling me in hard enough that our glasses clinked and threatened to spill.

And then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was controlled, deliberate, like he was allowing himself a dangerous indulgence he’d been fighting for too long. His lips pressed firm against mine, no hesitation, no testing the waters.

I shoved my drink aside and grabbed his shirt, twisting the fabric in my fists. The kiss deepened instantly, his tongue pushing past my lips in a way that felt more like claiming than exploring.

He tasted like whiskey and restraint snapping in half.

I pushed him back into the counter, but he didn’t stumble. He gripped my waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, his other hand sliding up the back of my neck into my hair, forcing me to keep my mouth on his.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, half frustration, half something darker, and I swallowed it like oxygen.

I bit his lower lip, just to see what he’d do.

He answered by kissing me harder, pulling me flush against him, chest to chest, heat bleeding through layers of fabric. His hand slid down my back and gripped my hip, dragging me closer until there wasn’t an inch left between us.

When he finally pulled away, it wasn’t because he wanted to, it was because he needed air. His forehead pressed against mine, both of us breathing hard.

“You talk too much,” he murmured, his voice rougher now.

I smirked, still catching my breath. “You kiss too well to be this grumpy all the time.”

For the first time since I met him, Damien almost smiled.

Almost.

But then he stepped back, picking up his drink like nothing happened.

“Finish your whiskey, Kyle,” he said. “We’re not done talking.”

And just like that, the walls went back up.

Only now, I knew exactly what was behind them.

–

The breakroom was quiet except for the low hum of the vending machine. I was halfway through stirring sugar into my coffee when a voice came from behind me.

“Long day already?”

I turned to see Mark Laurent, head of marketing, and one of those guys who could charm anyone’s grandmother without even trying. He leaned casually against the counter, his suit jacket slung over one arm.

“You could say that,” I said, forcing a polite smile.

Mark grinned. “Well, I heard you’ve been keeping the CEO’s schedule tighter than a vault. I’m impressed. Most people don’t last a month in that role.”

I chuckled. “Guess I’m stubborn.”

“That, or you’ve got nerves of steel.” His eyes flicked down briefly, then back up. It wasn’t subtle. “Either way… impressive.”

I took a sip of my coffee to hide my awkwardness. “Thanks. I guess.”

Before he could say more, the door swung open.

Damien walked in.

He didn’t say hello. Didn’t even look at me at first. He went straight to the counter, poured himself a coffee, his movements calm but too deliberate, like each action was a controlled choice.

But I felt his eyes.

They landed on Mark for just a second, then on me. And stayed.

Mark, oblivious to the shift in air pressure, kept talking. “You know, if you ever want to grab lunch sometime-”

“I need the quarterly report on my desk in ten minutes, Kyle,” Damien said, his voice sharp enough to slice through the room.

I blinked. “I-uh-was just-”

“Ten minutes.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

Mark frowned slightly. “Guess I’ll let you get back to it.” He gave me a small smile before leaving.

The door closed.

Damien poured his coffee without another word, but the silence wasn’t neutral, it was loaded.

I cleared my throat. “You could’ve just emailed me.”

“I don’t waste emails on things you should already know,” he said, taking a sip. His gaze didn’t leave the coffee cup.

I wanted to say something, to push back, but instead I muttered, “Right,” and left before I could embarrass myself.

The rest of the day was… punishing.

More tasks. More corrections. More clipped instructions. Damien didn’t so much as glance at me except to assign something else. It was like being under a spotlight you couldn’t see, but could feel burning the back of your neck.

By 8 p.m., the office was nearly empty. My eyes were sore from staring at spreadsheets, and my stomach reminded me I’d skipped lunch. I was ready to bolt.

I’d just grabbed my bag when his voice came again.

“Kyle. My office.”

I froze in the hallway. Part of me wanted to pretend I didn’t hear him. But my feet moved anyway.

He was standing by the window when I walked in, the city spread out behind him like a postcard. His jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up. He didn’t turn around when I shut the door.

“You were awfully chatty with Laurent today,” he said finally.

I blinked. “Mark? We were just talking.”

“Talking,” he repeated, as if the word tasted sour. “About what?”

“Work. Life. I don’t know.” I frowned. “Why does it matter?”

He finally turned, his expression unreadable but his eyes… his eyes gave him away.

“It doesn’t,” he said. “Except it was during office hours. And you work for me, not for him.”

I crossed my arms. “You can just say you don’t like him.”

His jaw tightened. “I don’t like people distracting my staff.”

“Right. Staff.” I forced a laugh that didn’t sound right even to me. “Good to know I’m just another employee to you.”

He took a step closer. “If that’s what you think, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

The room felt smaller. The air heavier.

I swallowed. “Then tell me. What am I to you?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just stared at me, like he was weighing the risk of whatever he wanted to say.

Finally, he said, low and deliberate, “Someone who shouldn’t let idiots like Laurent get too close.”

My pulse thudded. “And if I do?”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a warning. “Then I’ll make sure they don’t try again.”

I hated how much heat crawled up my neck at that. I hated that I didn’t push back.

Instead, I stood there, trapped in the weight of his gaze, wondering if maybe Mark wasn’t the dangerous one here.

Chapter 10 - Claimed

The first thing I saw when I stepped into the office Monday morning was Mark.

And of course, he was talking to me.

Or more like, he caught me at the reception, leaning against the desk with that easy grin he always wore. His tie was loose, shirt sleeves rolled up, the kind of casual confidence that made people feel comfortable.

“Rough weekend?” he asked, handing me a coffee from the café downstairs.

“Thanks,” I said, managing a smile. “Deadlines.”

“Bet your boss keeps you running even on your days off.”

I chuckled because, well, he wasn’t wrong. “Something like that.”

We kept talking, harmless small talk, nothing serious, but then he cracked a joke about my messy handwriting and I laughed. Really laughed.

That’s when I felt it.

That prickling sensation along the back of my neck. The weight of a stare.

I glanced over and there he was, Damien Silviero. Standing by his office door, sharp suit, sharp jaw, sharper eyes.

His gaze was flat and unreadable, but the way his hands were clasped behind his back… yeah, he’d seen.

I looked away quickly.

---

An hour later, I was in his office, standing in front of his desk.

“Coffee,” he said, without looking up from his papers.

I made it exactly how he liked—two sugars, a splash of cream. I set the cup on his desk.

He took one sip. And then—

He spat it out.

Right back into the cup.

The sound was sharp, deliberate.

I froze. “…Is something wrong with it?”

His eyes finally lifted to mine, cold as ice. “Redo it.”

My jaw tightened, but I took the cup, walked back out, and remade it.

When I returned, he repeated the exact same thing, one sip, and the coffee was back in the cup.

I flinched this time. “Mr. Silviero—”

“Nevermind,” he cut in, voice like steel. “You failed at a simple task. Perhaps you’ve been slacking off. Talking to other men instead of focusing on your job.”

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. My mouth went dry.

“It wasn’t—” I started, but stopped. No point.

He’d already gone back to his papers.

I left his office without another word.

---

The rest of the day, I barely spoke to him. I kept it to one-word replies when necessary. I didn’t even look at him unless I had to.

Which, apparently, didn’t go unnoticed.

By the time I passed Mark in the hallway, he noticed the tightness in my face. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“It’s nothing.”

He gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “If he’s being an ass, don’t let it get to you.”

I wished it was that simple.

The day crawled until finally, just as I was packing my things, Damien’s voice came from the doorway.

“Overtime. We’re preparing for tomorrow’s meeting.”

I turned slowly. “…Now?”

“Now.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and just walked back to his desk.

After another hour, he went to my desk. I was surprised he did, actually.

“What do you want to eat?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

I didn’t look at him. I continued working as if I didn’t know he was still standing beside me.

“Reyes, what do you want?” he asked one more time.

“Anything is fine. Should I order for you?” I asked.

“No.”

“Okay, sir.” I muttered. He hissed and then got back to his seat. I can feel him looking at me sharply.

I stayed, working through the notes and documents, ignoring him as much as possible.

At some point, I brought him the final binder. “Here.”

I expected him to take it. Instead, he caught my wrist and pulled, hard enough that I stumbled.

Before I could catch my balance, I was sitting in his lap.

“Damien—” I started, but his arms locked around me, keeping me there.

There was no one else in the office. Just us. The dim desk lamp casting shadows across his face.

His head tilted, and I felt his breath against my neck.

“You’ve been ignoring me, Reyes,” he whispered on my ear. I tried to get away.

“I wasn’t—”

“But you did.” He said firmly. He tightened his grip on my body.

“Mr. Silviero, let go—”

“This,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “is your punishment for ignoring me.”

I tensed, heat rushing to my face. “That’s not—”

His lips brushed my skin. Not soft. Not testing. Claiming.

A shiver shot down my spine before I could stop it.

“Mr. Silviero—”

“Stay still.”

His mouth trailed along my neck, slow, deliberate. A scrape of teeth. My breath hitched.

Then, his bite. Sharp enough to make me suck in air, followed by the heat of his lips again.

My hands pressed against his chest, but he didn’t let me go. His grip on my hips tightened, fingers digging in like he owned me.

A sound escaped me before I could swallow it, a soft, betraying noise.

He didn’t stop.

I could feel the hard lines of him beneath me, the tension in his body. His masculinity kept growing inside his pants as he kissed me. Fuck!

I told myself not to react, not to get drawn in. But every place his mouth touched, my resolve cracked.

“Kyle,” he said against my skin, the syllables low and rough, “look at me.”

I didn’t. Couldn’t.

His fingers slid to my jaw, tilting my face toward him. His eyes burned into mine, dark, unreadable, dangerous.

And then his mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t gentle. It was hard, demanding, the kind of kiss that stole breath and gave none back. His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me there, forcing me to match his pace.

I didn’t know when I stopped resisting. All I knew was that I was kissing him back, just as hard, just as desperate.

Before I knew it, I was sitting on his desk, the kiss deepening until the air between us was gone.

Somewhere in the back of my head, the thought tried to surface— we’re both men, this isn’t—

But then his lips crushed mine again, and it disappeared. The only thing left was the heat.

He tasted my mouth like it was already his, like there was no question, no permission needed.

Every push of his tongue was a challenge, a fight I knew I’d never win.

But I fought anyway.

The scrape of his teeth against my lower lip made my head spin, my chest heaving against his.

I lost my sanity somewhere between his grip on my jaw and the way his breath filled my lungs. My hands moved on their own, restless, sliding to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

I tried to kiss him the way he was kissing me, hard, hungry, unapologetic.

His mouth tore away just enough for his words to graze my lips.

“You’re mine. Remember?”

That cold voice… it burned hotter than anything else in the room.

“Damien…” His name left my mouth more like a plea than a protest.

He didn’t wait for me to catch my breath.

The next thing I knew, my fingers were on the buttons of his shirt, fumbling and frantic.

One by one, I tore them open until his chest was bare, taut muscle, abs cut like they’d been carved out of stone. My gaze traced every inch of him, drinking him in like I’d never see him again.

“Wow,” I mumbled in amusement.

I barely had time to admire him before his patience snapped.

He closed the distance, hand at the back of my neck, dragging my mouth back to his.

“Your lips are fucking soft,” he growled.

The kiss was rougher this time, almost punishing. His teeth caught my lip again, and I tasted copper. He didn’t care. He swallowed whatever sound I made, owning it.

And somewhere in the haze, I realized he wasn’t just kissing me. He was claiming me.

Chapter 11 - Punch in the Gut

The sunlight hit my eyes before the alarm could.

I groaned, rolling over, but the moment my body shifted, the memory slammed into me like a truck.

Yesterday, in his office. On his desk where he sat me. His hands. His mouth. Damien. Motherfucker!

My stomach flipped. My throat went dry. I sat up so fast the blanket tangled around my legs.

God. We actually did it. In his office of all places. What was I thinking? What the hell was he thinking?

The worst part wasn’t the memory. I was the fact that I could still feel him. The press of his fingers against my skin, the heat of his breath on my ear.

And yet… when I walked into the office this morning, Damien looked at me like… like nothing happened.

No secret glances, no awkwardness, no sign of guilt or, God forbid, affection. He was just Damien. The same calm man, unreadable, flipping through documents as if we hadn’t crossed a line.

It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. It really did.

---

For a whole week, it was the same.

I sat outside his office, doing my job, while he got buried in meetings and phone calls.

We didn’t talk unless it was about work. And when we did, his tone was clipped, his gaze brief.

No teasing, no subtle smirks, no… anything.

And here I was, pathetically wondering if he remembered how he kissed me, like he was starving and I was the only thing that could fill him.

Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I was stupid enough to think it meant something.

This afternoon, after another meeting, we were told to attend some auction.

I was bent over my desk, fixing the auction schedule and double-checking Damien’s calendar, when a soft voice floated from behind me.

“Excuse me?”

I turned, and for a second, it felt like my breath forgot how to exist.

She was beautiful. Not the blinding, intimidating kind of beautiful that makes you look away, but the kind that draws you in without you realizing it, gentle, unhurried, like a painting you could stare at for hours.

Her hair framed her face perfectly, her skin looked impossibly smooth, and there was a faint scent of something floral, warm, and expensive lingering in the air between us.

“You’re so handsome,” she said, her lips curving into a shy smile that reached her eyes.

And I, an idiot that I am, felt heat rush straight to my ears. No one said things like that to me. Not in that tone. Not with that look.

I managed to stammer, “Uh… thanks?” My voice cracked halfway, because apparently I was thirteen again. Damn, she’s beautiful.

She chuckled and I almost fainted.

“I’m looking for the CEO,” she continued, her tone polite but warm, like she expected me to be helpful.

“Right. This way.” I straightened my tie in a desperate attempt to look composed, silently hoping my face wasn’t still red.

As we walked toward Damien’s office, I caught myself stealing glances at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering who she was and why, suddenly, the quiet hallway felt like it had its own pulse.

When we entered, Damien’s eyes immediately went from the documents in his hand to her.

I expected his usual polite nod. What I didn’t expect was the flicker of familiarity in his expression.

I stepped aside as she walked closer to his desk, smiling. “It’s been a while, Damien.”

They talked.

I stood off to the side, watching, my stomach slowly twisting into knots. The way Damien’s lips curved, not the smug smirk I got when I annoyed him, not the tight line he used in business meetings, this was different. It wa slike he’s careful with her.

When she left, I asked another staff member who she was.

“Do you know who’s the pretty girl?” I asked John.

“Oh, yeah,”

The answer hit harder than I thought it would.

“Mr. Silverio’s soon to be wife.”

Damien’s fiancée.

---

Since that moment, I kept my distance. If he needed me for work, fine, I’d do it. But I wasn’t going to look at him longer than I had to. I wasn’t going to talk unless spoken to.

It was easier to pretend I didn’t care.

Apparently, Damien noticed. And apparently, he didn’t like it.

Three days before the auction, he was pacing in his office, clearly stressed. “Client backed out,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “We’re losing millions. I need you to-”

I was at my desk, typing. “Okay.”

He stopped. “Okay?”

“Yes.” I didn’t look up.

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

I shrugged. “What else is there to say?”

That’s when he came out from behind his desk and stalked toward me. I could feel his presence before I even looked up.

His hand gripped the edge of my desk as he leaned in.

“What’s your problem lately?” he asked, low and sharp.

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Bullshit.” His voice cut through the air, cold and sharp enough to make the hairs on my arms stand on end. He stepped closer, eyes hard, like he was daring me to look away. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Kyle. I can fire you whenever I want. I can rip you right out of this office if you keep acting like you’re not worth my time.”

Something in me snapped. Loud, sudden, like glass shattering in my chest.

The tension that had been building all week, all the unanswered questions, all the silent looks that never came, finally boiled over.

I shoved my chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoed between us, sharp and final.

Slowly, I stood, forcing myself to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold, controlled, like he’d already won this argument before it even started. That only made my blood burn hotter.

“You don’t need to fire me,” I said, and though my voice shook, it wasn’t fear, it was fury, thick and unsteady from being caged too long. “Because I quit.”

The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but the rush that came after was almost dizzying. I didn’t look away. Not once. If he wanted to play unaffected, fine, I could do that too.

Even if every part of me was screaming that walking away from him would be the hardest damn thing I’d ever do.

His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking like he was holding something back. For a heartbeat, I thought, I hoped he’d say something to stop me. A word. My name. Anything.

But he just stood there. Silent. Motionless.

And that silence it was louder than anything he could have said.

It pressed against my chest, heavy and suffocating, until the truth settled like a stone in my gut, that whatever I thought happened between us that night, every touch, every kiss, every rush of heat, meant nothing to him. I was the only one who felt it.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue. Without another word, I reached for my things, my pen, my notebook, anything that was mine, just so I’d have something to do with my hands.

The click of the pen echoed in the quiet as I slipped it into my pocket. My chair was still pushed back, a silent witness to the argument that just ended without a winner.

I turned away from him, every step feeling heavier than the last. My palm hovered over the doorknob for a second longer than it should have, as if my body was waiting for him to say something.

So I twisted the handle, pulled the door open, and walked out.

No backward glance. No second thoughts.

Just the hollow sound of the door shutting between us.

Chapter 12 - Calls

I didn’t show up the next day. Didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t explain.

My phone wouldn’t stop ringing, over and over like it was mocking me.

“God, just shut up,” I muttered, pulling the blanket over my head. But it kept going.

Kept vibrating against the nightstand like it had something urgent to say.

Finally, I sat up, grabbed it, and growled, “You want my attention? Here—” and threw it against the wall. The sharp crack of plastic hitting plaster felt good. The screen went dark. “Peace at last,” I mumbled, sinking back into bed.

I lay there for hours, staring at nothing, letting my thoughts circle the same stupid things, his voice, his hands, the way he kissed me like I mattered and then acted like I didn’t.

“You really had me fooled, huh, Damien?” I said to no one. “Guess that’s what you’re best at.”

Sleep came, but it wasn’t rest. Just a few hours of numbness. When I woke up, everything was still heavy. My chest, my head, even my arms felt like lead. No tears though.

“Not worth it,” I whispered to myself. “Not crying over an arrogant jerk who used me.”

I sat up. “Fine. New life. New me. Screw him.”

Dragged my laptop over, the screen lighting up the dark apartment.

“Resume time,” I muttered, fingers flying over the keys. “Let’s see who actually wants me.” I sent it out to half a dozen companies from my other email, the one Damien’s office didn’t know about.

“No way I’m letting his shadow follow me here,” I added under my breath.

The replies started rolling in faster than I expected. Offer after offer. My eyes widened.

“Overqualified, huh? Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” I smirked bitterly. “See, Damien? If you think I’m useless, there’s a whole damn world that disagrees.”

I made a list of offers, muttering to myself as I crossed them off. “Too low. Too far. Benefits suck… ah, here we go. Jackpot.” I circled the winner and leaned back. “There. My next chapter.”

Finally, I picked up my phone from the floor, surprised it still worked despite the crack running across the screen. Notifications poured in so fast it felt like it might explode in my hand. “Okay, let’s see who’s desperate for me…”

But as I scrolled, the smile faded. Not one from Damien. Not a single text. No email.

“All that noise,” I whispered, “and not even you.”

It was all colleagues, checking if I was okay, asking when I’d be back.

My chest sank, the disappointment heavier than I wanted to admit. I tried to laugh it off.

“Figures. Guess we’re done then. Guess we’ll never be in the same room again.”

But the laugh never really came.

I tossed the phone onto the bed and let it buzz again. And again. And again.

“Persistent, aren’t we?” I muttered, grabbing it before it fell off the edge.

The name flashing on the screen made me pause. Aaron. One of the few people at work who didn’t treat me like an accessory to the CEO.

I sighed and swiped to answer. “What?”

There was a beat of silence before Aaron said, “Wow. Morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not morning here. It’s… whatever. What do you want?”

“I’ve been calling because Damien—” he started.

“Don’t.” My tone came out sharper than I intended. “Don’t say his name.”

Aaron hesitated. “…Okay. The boss has been… difficult since you left.”

I laughed, short and humorless. “I’m sure he’s fine. Guy’s got his fiancée to keep him company.”

“That’s not—” Aaron started, but I cut him off.

“Look, Aaron, I’m not coming back. And if this is some attempt to guilt-trip me into walking through those glass doors again, save it. I’m done.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Aaron replied, a hint of something in his voice I couldn’t place. “Just… thought you should know he’s been asking about you.”

That made me still. “…Asking how?”

“Like… where you went. If anyone’s heard from you. And before you ask, no, I didn’t tell him anything. I figured if you wanted him to know, you’d tell him yourself.”

I stared at the ceiling. My voice came out flat. “Thanks. But it doesn’t matter. He could’ve texted. Emailed. Hell, sent a damn pigeon. He didn’t.”

Aaron sighed. “Kyle—”

“Don’t. I’ve got other offers. Better ones. I’m fine.”

“You sound real fine,” he said, sarcastic but not unkind. “Anyway… just take care of yourself, man. And maybe, don’t throw your phone at the wall next time.”

“How did you—” I started, but the line clicked dead.

I set the phone down and rubbed my face. My chest felt heavy again, but I forced a laugh, just to hear the sound of it.

If Damien really wanted to talk to me, he’d have found a way. And maybe the fact that he hadn’t… told me everything I needed to know.

Chapter 13 - Auction

The office felt louder without him. Not in sound. God knows Kyle barely spoke unless necessary but in presence.

He had this way of existing quietly in the corner of my vision that somehow anchored the chaos around me. Tolerable. Predictable. Balanced.

Now, nothing. Just the hollow, sterile space where he used to be. It was like someone had pulled a thread I didn’t realize was holding everything together.

I leaned back in my chair, pressing my fingers into my temples to fight the tension coiling there. “Where the hell are you, Kyle?”

Aaron stood at the doorway, hesitant. “Still no sign of him.”

I didn’t look at him. Didn’t want him to see the crack in my expression.

“Maybe he’s just taking some time—” Aaron tried.

“He’s not the type to disappear without a word.” I kept my gaze pinned to the documents in front of me, even though I couldn’t recall a single word I’d read. “And he’s not the type to ignore responsibility. Which means…” I exhaled sharply. “…he’s doing it on purpose.”

Aaron shifted his weight, like he wanted to say something more but thought better of it. “If I hear anything—”

“Don’t,” I cut in before he could finish. My voice came out colder than I meant, but I didn’t take it back. “If he wanted me to know where he is, he’d tell me himself.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, the silence rushed in, heavier than before.

I stared down at the pen in my hand, spinning it slowly between my fingers, my mind replaying the last thing Kyle had said to me.

Because I quit.

The words hit harder than I expected. Not because of what they meant, but because of how he said them. His eyes had been fierce, unflinching.

I’d seen flashes of that temper before, but never aimed fully at me. I’d been trying to push him to talk, to stop hiding behind that infuriatingly calm mask. I wanted him to crack, to let me in.

But instead, he walked away.

I don’t know if I’m more pissed at him for leaving… or at myself for letting him.

I glanced at my phone. It sat there, black screen reflecting back a version of me I didn’t particularly like, hesitant, almost… unsure. One tap, and I could call him. One tap, and this silence would be over.

But then what? Apologize? For what? For doing my job? For not saying the right thing at the right time?

No. If he wanted me to reach out, he would’ve left me something to reach for.

I set the pen down, opened the next file, and told myself I had work to do. Even though both of us knew I wasn’t going to get a damn thing done today.

I stayed in the office longer than I needed to, staring at the same stack of contracts like they might eventually read themselves. When the clock finally hit eight, I gave up. The place was empty, the quiet settling over me like dust.

The drive home was a blur of red lights and half-heard radio static. By the time I stepped into my penthouse, the city was spread out beneath me, bright, alive, and completely detached from the weight in my chest.

I tossed my jacket onto the couch and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Scotch. Neat. The glass was cool in my hand, the burn familiar down my throat. Normally, it grounded me. Tonight, it barely registered.

I told myself I was unwinding. Not pacing. Definitely not thinking about whether Kyle had eaten today, or if he was at home tearing himself apart the way I suspected he would.

But the truth? That’s exactly what I was doing.

He had this irritating way of getting into my head without even trying. The way he’d mutter under his breath when something didn’t make sense.

The little pauses he’d take before answering me, like he was filtering what he really wanted to say. I used to think it was just part of his professionalism, but now I’m not so sure.

I sank into the couch and stared at my phone on the coffee table. My fingers twitched like they were ready to reach for it.

One call. One message. That’s all.

But then I heard my own voice from earlier, sharp and cold. If

he wanted me to know where

he is

, he’d tell me himself.

I gritted my teeth, took another swallow of scotch, and set the glass down harder than necessary.

“You walked out, Kyle,” I muttered to the empty room. “You think I’m going to beg? Think again.”

Still, my eyes drifted to the phone. And for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t sure I believed my own words.

–

Three days later, the auction hall was a gold-plated cage. Crystal chandeliers dripped light across the crowd, and the air hummed with the low murmur of money and ego.

I’d been to enough of these to know the game. Smile, shake hands, pretend the overpriced antiques mattered.

I didn’t expect to feel restless.

The moment I walked in, I scanned the room. I told myself it was habit, sizing up clients. But the truth was, I was looking for him.

And then, there he was.

Kyle stood near the far wall, clipboard in hand, dressed in that charcoal suit that somehow made him look sharper than half the CEOs here.

He wasn’t looking at me. He was pretending not to notice me. But I saw the way his jaw tightened when Sofia leaned in to say something.

Sofia.

My fiancée on paper, at least. She stood beside me, her hand resting lightly on my arm.

“You seem distracted,” she said with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

Across the room, Kyle checked something on his clipboard, his gaze sliding past me like I was just another face in the crowd.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. And somehow, that irritated me more than any glares or cold shoulders could have.

Every instinct in me wanted to cross the room, close the space between us, and force him to look at me. To react. But with Sofia on my arm and a hundred eyes watching, I stayed exactly where I was.

My jaw ached from holding it shut.

You want to pretend we’re nothing, Kyle? Fine. But you and I both know you’re lying.

---

Kyles POV

The auction was everything I hated about this job, loud without being noisy, busy without anyone actually doing anything.

People dripping in designer labels, talking about bids like they were planning world peace instead of buying a vase they’d stick in a corner.

I kept my eyes on my clipboard, checking guest lists, updating seat placements. Anything to keep me from looking in  his direction.

But of course, my eyes betrayed me.

Damien stood near the center of the room, a drink in hand, Sofia on his arm like they’d been carved out of the same perfect block of marble.

She was smiling at something he said. He wasn’t smiling back, but he didn’t need to. The way they stood together screamed we belong.

And I hated how my stomach twisted at that.

I told myself I didn’t care. That I’d quit for a reason. That I was over this. But then his gaze flicked toward me, just for a second.

No smile. No acknowledgment. Just… looking. And it was enough to make my grip on the pen tighten.

I left before I could read too much into it, ducking toward the hallway that led to the restrooms. I just needed a minute to breathe, to not see him.

The men’s room was quiet, the sound of water dripping somewhere in the back. I leaned against the sink, inhaling slow. It’s fine. You’re fine.

The door opened.

And there he was.

We stared at each other, neither of us moving. My heart was thudding so hard I swore he could hear it.

He stepped closer. I told myself to leave, to push past him, to do anything but stay. But my feet stayed planted.

“Kyle,” he said, voice low, almost… hoarse.

I didn’t answer.

Another step, and now I could smell him. Expensive cologne, faint whiskey.

“You think you can just disappear?” he murmured.

I opened my mouth to throw something back, something sharp enough to cut through whatever this was, but nothing came out.

He stepped closer. Slowly. The click of his shoes against the tile was the only sound in the room.

“Say it,” Damien said quietly, eyes locked on mine. “Whatever’s been sitting in your throat. Say it.”

I straightened my shoulders, tried to glare, but my pulse was betraying me, pounding in my ears.

“What’s the point? You don’t listen anyway.”

That got the faintest twitch out of him. His jaw flexed, his gaze sweeping over my face like he was searching for something I wasn’t about to give.

“I listen,” he said. “I just don’t like what I’m hearing.”

“Then maybe you should stop cornering people who don’t want to talk to you.”

I tried to sidestep, but his hand shot out, bracing against the wall beside my head. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell that damn cologne I’d spent days trying to forget.

“You don’t get to disappear and act like nothing happened,” he said. His voice was lower now, rougher.

I laughed once, humorless. “And you don’t get to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

Something flickered in his eyes then, anger, maybe. Or something else entirely. Whatever it was, it pulled him that final inch closer, until I could feel the faint brush of his breath against my cheek.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

I should have. God, I should have. But my lips parted, and the only thing that came out was a shaky breath.

That was all the permission he needed.

His hand slid from the wall to my jaw, tilting my face up, and then his mouth was on mine, hard, unyielding, like he was trying to erase the days we’d spent apart.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t polite. It was frustration and want tangled together, and God help me, I kissed him back.

The clipboard clattered to the tile, the sound sharp in the enclosed space. His fingers tangled in my hair, my hands fisting in the fabric of his jacket, dragging him closer until there was no space left between us.

We stumbled back against the wall, breath colliding, every kiss rougher than the last, as if we were both punishing and needing each other in the same moment.

When we finally broke apart, my lips were swollen, my chest heaving. His forehead rested against mine like he wasn’t ready to let go.

And I hated that I didn’t want him to, either.

Chapter 14 - Stares

His mouth moved against mine like it was a fight he refused to lose, teeth catching my lower lip, pulling just hard enough to make me gasp.

That sound must’ve done something to him, because his grip tightened in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss until I was pinned so firmly against the wall it felt like he could feel my heartbeat through both our jackets.

“Damien—” I managed between breaths, but it came out weaker than I meant.

He pulled back just far enough to speak, his forehead pressed to mine. “You drive me insane.”

“Good,” I said, though it came out more like a whisper than the challenge I’d intended.

One corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile, more like a warning, before he kissed me again, slower this time, dragging it out until my knees felt unreliable.

I hated him for this. For knowing exactly how to break down every wall I’d built in the past week. For touching me like he owned the right to. For making me want him to.

His hand slid down to my waist, fingers curling just enough to keep me close. My own hands betrayed me, gripping his lapels like I might fall without him.

We stayed like that, mouths locked, breaths harsh, longer than we should’ve. Long enough for reality to start creeping back in.

I was the first to break away, turning my head so his lips caught my cheek instead. “We can’t—”

“We already are,” he said simply, voice low and certain, as if that was the only argument needed.

And maybe, in that moment, it was.

His thumb brushed along my jaw, his lips hovering so close I could still feel the ghost of the last kiss.

“I’m not done with you,” he murmured.

I swallowed, my voice barely holding steady. “You were done the second you introduced me to your fiancée.”

That hit, his eyes narrowed, but before he could answer, the bathroom door creaked open.

We both froze.

Footsteps. Someone clearing their throat.

“Mr. Silviero?” a man’s voice called, hesitant, like he already regretted coming in. “They’re about to start the bidding on the… uh… Ming vase thing.”

Damien didn’t move. His hand was still on my waist, grip possessive, eyes locked on mine like he dared me to say anything.

I shoved his chest, just enough to put space between us, and ducked down to grab my clipboard from the floor.

When I straightened, his expression was unreadable again. Cool. Collected. The same mask he’d worn all week, except now I knew exactly what was underneath.

“You should get back out there,” I said, my voice as flat as I could make it.

He didn’t answer. Just adjusted his tie, brushed past me, and left without looking back.

The door shut, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the heat of his hands or the taste of him on my lips.

The auction hall was warm with bodies, the hum of low chatter mixing with the clink of champagne flutes. Polished marble floors reflected crystal chandeliers, and everything about the room screamed money.

I stepped inside with Edward beside me, my new boss. His hand rested lightly on my shoulder as he guided us through the crowd, greeting people like he’d been born in these circles.

A week ago, I would’ve been walking in behind Damien, scribbling down notes, making sure his schedule ran like clockwork. Now? I was here as part of Edward’s team. My clipboard wasn’t for Damien anymore.

And God, did I feel his eyes on me.

It didn’t take long to spot him, standing near the front, surrounded by investors, wearing that same quiet authority like it was tailored into his suit.

If I didn’t know him, I’d think he looked exactly the same as always. But I did know him. And I knew he’d already seen me.

“Looks like your old boss is here,” Edward murmured, his tone casual but curious.

“I noticed,” I said, keeping my eyes forward.

Edward gave a small smile, the kind that said he’d file that away for later, then moved us toward the seating area.

Every time we stopped to talk to someone, I could feel Damien’s stare burning through the crowd.

The auctioneer’s voice cut through the noise, starting the bidding on some antique necklace. Laughter rippled through the audience when one bidder got a little too enthusiastic.

I didn’t hear half of it. My focus kept slipping, drawn back to the man in the charcoal suit who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but across the room from me.

During a short break between lots, Edward leaned closer. “Why don’t you get us something to drink? I’ll hold our seats.”

I headed toward the champagne table, glad for the excuse to breathe. My fingers curled around the stem of a glass, and I’d just lifted it when—

“Thirsty?”

That voice. Low, familiar. Too close.

I didn’t look at him. “I’m working.”

“For him?” he asked, and I didn’t need to see the flick of his gaze toward Edward to know exactly who he meant.

“Yes,” I said simply.

Something in the air shifted. “He hired you fast.”

I took a sip, not meeting his eyes. “Some people don’t need convincing to see my value.”

There was a pause. Sharp enough to cut. Then his voice dropped even lower.

“You weren’t saying that ten minutes ago.”

The glass wobbled in my hand, but I set it down before it could betray me.

“Don’t,” I said, firm this time.

He studied me for a moment, then stepped back with that infuriating unreadable expression, melting back into the crowd as if nothing had happened.

When I returned to my seat beside Edward, Damien was still standing at the front of the room. But his gaze wasn’t on the auctioneer.

It was on me.

The bidding picked up again, fast and sharp, numbers flying from every corner of the room.

Edward leaned over occasionally, asking my opinion on a few pieces, his tone light but deliberate. I knew he was making a point, showing me off as part of his team.

Halfway through the auction, a server brought us fresh drinks. Edward reached for his glass, then nodded toward the front.

“Your old boss hasn’t looked away once.”

I didn’t need to check to know he was right.

When the break came, Edward stood to greet a couple he knew, drawing them into easy conversation. I stayed seated, flipping through the catalogue to avoid Damien’s stare.

It didn’t work.

A shadow fell across my page. “Enjoying yourself?”

I looked up. Damien. Close enough that the scent of his cologne hit before his words did.

“Yes,” I said, my voice flat.

His eyes flicked toward Edward, who was still talking, then back to me.

“This is what you left for? Fetching champagne for someone who can’t even find his own seat?”

My jaw tightened. “This is what I left for,.working with someone who actually values what I do.”

Something dark crossed his expression, there and gone in a blink. “You think he values you? He doesn’t even know you.”

“Neither do you,” I shot back, standing so we were eye level. “Not really.”

Before he could answer, Edward turned, smiling. “Damien Silviero. I thought I saw you. Good to see you again.”

The air between them was like flint meeting steel, polite smiles, but something sharp underneath.

Edward gestured toward me. “Kyle’s been indispensable already. I’m lucky I met him when I did.”

Damien’s gaze didn’t leave mine. “Yeah. Lucky.”

Edward excused himself to take a call, and for a heartbeat, it was just the two of us again.

Damien’s voice dropped to a whisper meant only for me. “You can play loyal all you want, but you don’t belong here with him.”

I steadied my breath. “I belong anywhere I choose.”

His mouth curved, half challenge, half promise, but before he could push further, the auctioneer’s gavel hit the podium, calling everyone back to order.

Damien stepped away, but I felt the ghost of his presence long after he was gone.

Chapter 15 - Offer

Warning: R18 Chapter Ahead

Kyle’s POV

The auction wrapped up with the same predictability that always followed Damien, he walked away with the most expensive items, while others whispered about his wealth like it was a magic trick they couldn’t figure out.

I didn’t know if he’d managed to patch things up with the client who’d backed out before I left, and honestly, I didn’t care to ask.

Outside, the night air bit at my skin. I shifted my weight on the curb, the polished leather of my shoes tapping against the gutter while I kept an eye out for my Uber.

Then, with the low purr of a predator, a black Lamborghini slid to a stop in front of me.

The tinted window hummed as it lowered, and there he was, Damien Silviero in profile, sharp and perfect, before his eyes flicked to me.

“Hop in,” he said.

My brows pulled together. “What? No. I’m waiting for my Uber-”

“Don’t make me drag you inside, Reyes. You know I will.” His voice was casual, but the warning in it was iron-clad.

I exhaled through my nose. “Alright, alright.” Because knowing him, he’d absolutely follow through.

The leather of the passenger seat was cool against me when I sat down, and I fastened the seatbelt a notch tighter as he pulled away from the curb with the kind of speed that made my stomach dip.

“What now?” I asked, but he didn’t answer until we were halfway down the street.

“I’m hungry. Let’s eat first.”

We didn’t speak again until we parked in front of an old restaurant. Inside, it was cozy, more like someone’s grandmother’s house than a business. The smell of grilled meat and fresh bread wrapped around me like a trap.

Damien ordered for both of us without asking. Typical. I kept my eyes on the scuffed wooden table, but I could feel his gaze like heat on my skin.

“Your suit looks good on you. You got it tailored?”

I blinked at him. “N-No. Sir Edward bought it for me.”

His jaw ticked. “You should’ve worn the one I got you. I can buy you more. Nice ones.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Right.” His tone was unreadable.

The food arrived. Burgers, fries, sodas, and salads. He pushed a plate toward me.

“Order more if you want, but looking at you, half that burger’s enough. You’re thin.”

“I’m not thin. You’re just… big,” I muttered, instantly regretting it when my brain supplied images I didn’t need.

And then, just to make it worse, he licked his lips. Deliberate or not, it made my thoughts scatter. I shook my head like a crazy bastard.

“Why are you shaking your head? You’ve gone crazy working for Edward?”

“Maybe I went crazy working for you.”

His smirk was infuriating. “Really, huh? About that, I want to make you an offer.”

“What offer? I’m already hired by another company-”

“I’ll double what they offered. Triple, if you come back to me.”

My heartbeat stuttered. “I don’t know, Mr. Silviero. You told me I wasn’t useful to you. So why do you still want me?”

He didn’t answer. He just paid the bill, drove me home, and followed me all the way to my apartment door without invitation. He does whatever he wants to. He’s pretty annoying. Annoyingly handsome.

“You… wanna come in?” I asked. He only nodded.

Inside, I saw his eyes sweep over the narrow space. This is a studio apartment enough for ome tenant. The cheapest I could find in this city.

“You better accept my offer so you can afford something better than this crap.”

I laughed, because he wasn’t wrong. “Maybe if you give me a million dollars, I can afford something close to your penthouse.”

“Deal.”

“What? I was joking-”

“I’ll give it to you as a signing bonus if you come back.” His voice was steady, deliberate, like a man discussing business over dinner.

“I-no, sir. I couldn’t-”

I stepped back when he closed the distance between us, but my bed caught me, and I landed sitting. He hovered over me.

“I’m giving you a good deal, Reyes.” He climbed over me, his shadow swallowing the light, his scent filling my lungs.

“Sir-”

“Don’t be stubborn. Don’t make it hard for me to get you again. I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

And then his mouth was on mine. He kissed me hard, claiming, like he could brand me through sheer will. I didn’t move at first, stubborn to the last, until his teeth caught my lower lip and a sound escaped me.

That was all the permission he needed.

His hot breath sent shivers down my spine. He didn’t stop kissing me until his entire weight collapsed on my body.

I can feel his warm chest on mine, given that we both have our jackets on.

When he let go of my lips, I tried to push him away. “Mr. Silviero-”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he started kiss my neck. Sucking all over it. Marking my skin.

I bit my lip so hard, trying not to make any noise. But I just couldn’t. He licked and sucked my skin and I’m still under him, going crazy when his lips touches me.

He then removed his coat, leaving only his long sleeves polo.

I pressed my palms against his chest, trying to control his weight from crushing me, but that was a lie. I wanna feel his warm body with my hands.

When he kissed me back on my lips, I responded. As close as how he’s kissing me while my hands found every button of his shirt. I skillfully unbuttoned each one.

I pushed him harder this time. We pulled away and get to look at each other intently.

I traced his chest with my palm. Down to his abs. I felt the hardness of his mascular body.

Then I looked at his crotch area. His thing is buldging inside his pants. I was hypnotized. I tried reaching for it, and when I did, he held my wrist.

“If you do that, there’s no turning back, Kyle,” he warned. His voice so deep it reached my core.

I didn’t think twice. I grabbed his c*ck and pulled his neck for a kiss. He removed my coat. And knowing how impatient he was, I didn’t stop him from ripping my inner polo apart.

Buttos flew across the room and we continued to kiss.

I palmed his huge meat. He groaned in my mouth once more.

“You’re big…” I whispered.

“Say that when you see it,” he mumbled.

He laid on the bed and watched me unbuckle his belt. My hands were shaking as I unzip his fly. And then I saw his underwear, my breathing stopped. I gulped so hard before pulling his boxers down to reveal his massive d*ck.

It sprung up my face. Proudly stood. I looked at Damien. His eyes were dark.

“Suck me.” he said. And I did.

I licked his thing. From the head to its shaft. He threw his head back and that’s how I knew I was doing it right.

“Fuck,” he growled when I wrapped my fingers around it. Fingertips didn’t touch and that’s how big he is.

I’m a man and I know what feels good.

I put his tip inside my mouth. His groans grew louder. Like a beast feasting. Like a wolf howling.

“Hmm,” I groaned when I tried to fit him inside my mouth but I couldn’t.

I moved my head up and down while looking at him. I can feel him getting even bigger inside my mouth.

“Ah, fuck. You’re good,” and that compliment was enough for me to do better.

I sucked him harder. Alternately licking the tip, while my hand moved faster on his long shaft.

He watched me blow him good. Until he loses patience. He grabbed me and made me sit on his stomach. But then, he flipped our position and pulled my pants right away.

“Sir!” I screamed.

He removed my boxers before her leaned to kiss my bare chest and stomach.

“You’re fucking mine, Kyle. Only mine.” he mumbled before flipping me around.

He pulled my hips upward and I almost screamed in embarrassment. My nakes ass if fully facing him right now.

“Shit, Damien!” I screamed again when I felt his c*ck tapping into my hole.

“Relax, it’s gonna be good,” he reassures me but that did nothing.

This is gonna be my first time doing it with a guy. And it was to embarrassing to be in this position.

I flinched when I felt a cold liquid brushing my asshole. I looked at him and saw him putting away my lotion.

“Y-you’re not gonna… put that thing inside me, right?” I gulped as I point to his huge meat, erected and rock-hard.

“What do you think, Kyle?” he then smirked and pulled my hips upward again.

“Damien, it’s going to hurt…”

“I’ll be gentle.” he said.

He leaned towards me and started kissing my neck. His c*ck is touching my ass-cheek while trying to calm me down.

He positioned himself. I closed my eyes and buried my face on my pillow.

It feels surreal. Ht chest is pounding hard, anticipating his next move. Then I felt him enter me. I screamed.

“Damien! Aah!”

Pain covered my whole body.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

He didn’t rush me. Although I can feel him ready to wreck the shit out of that hole.

“Damien it hurts. Fuck…” I mumbled under my breath. He reached for the lotion again and tried lubricating it. Then he tried to push again. And this time, half of his c*ck went it.

My eyes went completely white. My back arched even more.

“I’ll move slowly,” he warned.

It still hurt, but he moved slow, letting me adjust to his size. Each deep thrust sent shivers racing through me, my stomach tightening, my knees trembling until they could barely hold me.

I gave in, letting him take me, letting him claim me, like I was his to own completely.

Chapter 16 - Back

Kyle’s POV

The morning sunlight cut through the blinds, slicing across Damien’s bare skin like the world wanted to worship him. And honestly, I understood.

If Greek gods walked among us, they’d bow to him.

My thighs ached. My back ached. My everything ached. Especially my bottom. And the worst part? Every twitch of pain came with a very vivid flashback of last night.

It wasn’t just sex. It was Damien owning me, like I’d been nothing more than his personal vice until he was satisfied.

And now here he was, sleeping beside me like nothing happened, one arm draped lazily over my waist.

I tried to slide out of bed, but he pulled me back in without even opening his eyes. His chest pressed against my back, warm and solid.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was rough with sleep, yet somehow still made my spine tingle.

“I was… gonna get up,” I mumbled.

“Want to go for another round?” he whispered into my ear, the words ghosting over my skin.

My eyes widened. “I can barely move my body, Mr. Silviero. You were a beast.”

That earned me a slow smirk. He didn’t push, though. Instead, he kissed my temple before letting me go.

We didn’t go to work that day. I called my new boss and told them I was sick, which wasn’t entirely a lie, because I was in pain. The good kind.

Damien didn’t say anything about skipping. He just made himself comfortable like this was his house and not my small apartment.

“You’d make a good housewife,” he muttered later, sipping coffee I’d made him.

“I’d make a good what?” I shot him a glare over my shoulder as I fried eggs.

“You heard me,” he said, standing behind me. Then I felt his bare chest press against my back, skin to skin, and his hands sliding to my waist. “Except my housewife wouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes in the morning.”

I snorted. “Good luck getting me to-”

He bit my shoulder.

“Damien!” I yelped, almost flipping the pan.

He kissed the spot he’d bitten, his lips soft where his teeth had been ruthless. Then he moved lower, planting lazy kisses down my spine, while I tried to pretend I was totally focused on breakfast and not melting into him.

“You’re going to burn the eggs,” he murmured, and then bit me again.

“You’re making me burn them!” I said, trying to push him away, but his arms just tightened.

When we finally sat down to eat, Damien still hadn’t let go of his smug little smirk, like I’d just passed some secret test only he knew about.

After breakfast, he followed me into the bathroom.

“You’re not showering alone,” he said simply, stepping in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Damien, I can shower by myself-”

“And yet,” he cut me off, already stripping the rest of his clothes. “Here I am.”

Steam curled around us as the water ran. I was reaching for my shampoo when his hand slid down my stomach, low enough to make my breath hitch.

“This is not how normal people shower,” I said, but my voice cracked halfway.

“Good thing I’m not normal,” he replied, kissing the side of my neck.

It started playful. I flicked water in his face when he tried to hog the spray. He retaliated by pinning me against the wall, water dripping from his hair onto my skin. I laughed, right until his mouth covered mine.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. His hands were everywhere, in my hair, on my hips, pulling me closer until there was no space left. My laugh dissolved into a breathless sound I didn’t recognize as mine.

“Still sore?” he asked, smirking against my lips.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Good.”

And just like that, the teasing gave way to something hotter, heavier. The kind of heat that had nothing to do with the shower’s temperature.

When he finally left that afternoon, I was leaning against the bathroom doorway, still trying to catch my breath, wondering how someone could turn a single day into a blur of exhaustion, laughter, and the kind of satisfaction that made you not care about anything else.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I didn’t want it to end.

The rest of the day, I spent time in my head. Thinking. Overthinking. Picking apart every damn moment with Damien like I was studying for an exam I didn’t sign up for.

About him. About going back. About… his offer.

Okay, let’s be honest, it was because of his offer. Triple my current salary? Fuck, yeah . You’d have to be an idiot not to think about it.

But thinking about it and deciding on it were two different things.

I grabbed my cracked phone, the same one that looked like it had survived a war, and scrolled for Gino’s number. My best mate. The guy I go to when I need advice, or just someone to call me out.

“Bro, go for it. That’s a hell of an amount!” he said the second I finished explaining.

“You’re all for the money, aren’t you?” I hissed, leaning back on the couch.

“That’s all that matters, bro. You know the company inside out, like you’ve got the whole damn labyrinth mapped in your head. Honestly, it makes more sense to go back than to start from scratch somewhere else. But hey, the call’s yours.”

And just like that, he ended the call.

Typical Gino, drop his two cents and leave me holding the decision like it was a ticking bomb.

But his words stuck. Like you’ve got the whole damn labyrinth mapped in your head.

He wasn’t wrong.

By the time the sun dipped low and the city lights bled into the sky, I’d made up my mind. I typed out my resignation, hit send, and then attached my resume to an email for Damien.

Simple. Clean. Final.

I’m coming back.

Chapter 17 - Mr. Sunshine

(Here’s another chapter as promised.)

Kyle’s POV

The day after, I walked into the office like I’d never left.

Honestly, it felt like a parade. Smiles, greetings, little waves from across the hall, apparently I was missed. Not that I minded. I’ve always liked helping people. Maybe that’s why they liked me back.

“Now you know you’re the office heartthrob,” Mark said, sliding up beside me with that knowing smirk.

“You’re exaggerating,” I chuckled, adjusting the files in my arms. “They just missed me, that’s all.”

“There’s one who missed you more than anyone else.” He jerked his chin toward the far end of the hall.

Damien.

Tss. “Go back to work,” I muttered, brushing past him and heading straight for the corner office I swore I wouldn’t return to so soon.

I pushed the door open. Damien glanced up, gave me a small nod, and went back to signing papers like my reappearance wasn’t a big deal. I walked straight to the coffee maker like it was muscle memory.

The moment I stepped near his desk with the mug in hand, he reached out, grabbed me by the wrist and smacked my ass.

“Damien!” I hissed, almost spilling his coffee.

“What?” he said innocently, as if he hadn’t just assaulted my dignity.

“We’re in your office. Stop being naughty,” I glared at him.

He frowned, but didn’t push it. At least not immediately.

“Auction’s tomorrow,” he said, flipping a page. “And I got a call from Mr. Douglas. He’s pushing through with the deal.”

That got my attention. I set his coffee down, and he gave me a look that said I know you had something to do with this.

“You convinced him, huh,” Damien said, leaning back.

“I did, Mr. Silviero. No one really resists my charms.” I smirked.

And just like that, he hooked his arm around my waist, pulled me onto his lap like I weighed nothing, my back pressed to his chest.

He breathed in against my neck, one slow inhale that sent a shiver down my spine, before wrapping both arms securely around me.

“You’re good,” he murmured. “I should probably promote you.”

“I’m still overqualified to be your assistant,” I shot back.

“You’re confident. I like it,” he said, his lips brushing my ear. “But I’d rather keep you close. Your position is… beneficial to me. And since you convinced Mr. Douglas, I’ll give you a raise.”

“Quadruple now? I’m gonna be rich real soon,” I said with a grin, standing up before things got too comfortable. He let me go, for now.

I got a few calls from people who want to meet with Damien. One is Sofia. I sighed. I’m being selfish, I know. He has a fiance and I still let myself do the deed with him. What am I now? A third party?

Thank God my busy day got me throughout the day without being drowned in my own thoughts.

I badly, badly wanna talk about it with Damien but now is not the right time.

Went out to get a soda from the vending machine when I noticed two girls murmuring and pushing each other on the corner.

I almost choked when the girl bumped on me.

“Oh, s-sorry, Kyle. I just…I just wanna give this to you. Okay, bye.” she said so fast I almost thought she was Eminem.

I looked at the box she gave me. Imported chocolates. I smiled. Too bad I didn’t get to thank him.

“What are those, huh?” Aaron suddenly appeared behind me.

“Fuck man, you’re everywhere.”

“Ohhh, admirers. The famous Kyle Reyes. Handsome, sympathetic, smart, and charming in every way.”

“Who calls me that? You’re crazy.” I said shaking my head.

“What? It’s true. When you resigned, the company felt like a funeral. No one lights up a room like you do, Mr. Sunshine. They call you that.”

I jokingly punched his arm.

“Want one? Here. I’m going back to work.” I said and handed him a chocolate bar.

“Thank you, Mr. Sunshine!” he said as I walked straight.

Lunch came and I ate mine in silence while encoding on my laptop. Damien’s shadow hovered over me while I chewed my food.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Eating? And working?” I answered.

“Tss. It’s lunchtime. Finish work after eating.” he said and put his lunchbox on my table. Pulling a swivel chair and sat beside me.

“What’s that?” I asked pointing to his food.

“Steak. Want a bite?”

“No. I’m good—” I didn’t finish eating because he shoved a slice on meat in my mouth.

“Eat more. You’re skinny.”

He finished his meal in 10 minutes, occasionally feeding me until he’s done.

I almost couldn’t walk. Too full to move around and I yawned ten times already. Hope I don’t shit today. It’s gonna smell real bad for sure.

“Get up. We’re going to pick up your suit for tomorrow.” Damien approached me. I looked at my watch. It’s exactly 7 pm now.

“Okay, let me just pack my things.” He waited for me. Standing there, crossing his arms. I chuckled looking at him.

“What?” He glared.

“Nothing.” I mumbled and chuckled again.

“Are you making fun of me?”

He took a step closer, trying to intimidate me. For crying out loud, he’s 6’5 and I’m 5’9. I look like a cat next to a tiger.

“No, sir. I just thought you were cute.” I answered honestly. He just hissed.

We went straight to the parking lot and he drove straight to the place. It wasn’t a long ride.

“Mr. Silviero. Your orders are complete. Wait for my assistant to wrap them for you.” an old lady greeted him. I smiled at her when he looked at me.

“Let him try it first.” he told the woman, pointing at me.

“Sure thing.” the lady gave me like  five sets of them. All in different colors.

Damien followed me to the fitting room and arrogantly sat on the chair like he was a king.

“Go, try them all. Show me.”

My brows furrowed. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“While you’re watching me?” I asked to clarify.

“Yes, Kyle. They’re about to close, do it fast.”

I hesitated for a bit. But looking at him, he didn’t look like he was kidding.

I removed my jacket. Tried the dark gray and showed him.

“Turn around,” he commanded and even twirled his finger. And like an idiot, I did turn around.

“Feels nice,” I commented.

“Fits well. How much—”

“Don’t ask. Try the navy green.”

And of course, Damien being an asshole, he smacked my ass for gow many times until I get to try every single one of the suits he bought me.

“I’ll call an uber. You can drive home.”

“You’re coming with me.”

He drove fast until we reached his penthouse. He didn’t waste a single second. The moment we stepped in the elevator, he grabbed my face and pinned me on the wall.

He claimed my lips and tasted my mouth shamelessly.

“Damien! People might see us!”

“I don’t care.” he mumbled and continued kissing me. The elevator went up pretty quickly.

And when we reached his penthouse, he threw me on the couch. I watched him remove his jacket and unbuton his polo.

His eyes are burning with lust. And I swallowed hard when I realized was so close to his buldging c*ck.

I helped him then. I unbuckled his belt. But before I opened his fly, he pressed his lips into mine. Kissing me again. Hard and hungry. Like he was waiting for it the whole day.

I kissed him back. Still trembling but better now. My hands shakily found his bare chest. I felt his rock-hard muscles in my palm and I caressed them with all my will.

“You still smell so fucking good after a long day,” he whispered in my ear.

Every nerve in my body was on fire. I couldn’t take it anymore. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent last night replaying him in my mind, over and over.

I climbed onto his lap, forcing him back into the couch. Straddling him, I felt the heat radiating between us. His eyes darkened, hungry, dangerous, like he was ready to devour me whole.

“You’re hard,” I whispered in his ear. This time, I was the one who bit his neck.

He held my hips, pushing me forward and against his clothed manhood.

“You made me,” he whispered back.

I slowly kissed his neck. Down to his chest. Smelling his manly scent. I traced his skin with my lips until I reached his chest.

Then I stood up just to kneel on the floor. I know what he wants. He doesn’t need to tell me what to do.

I held his thing. I stroked it gently and slowly. He groaned with every glide of my hands in his shaft.

“Put it in your mouth, Kyle. Suck me,”

I was going to. But his impatience won. He held my head, pushed his meat to part my lips, and fcked my mouth like fucking pssy.

“Mph! Hmp!” I gag. Putting his massive c*ck inside my mouth reached my throat.

I couldn’t breathe but he wouldn’t stop.

“Damn it, Kyle! Argh!” he growled. And now, I don’t care.

I let him use my mouth like a toy. Pounding it hard, in and out, faster and faster, until he came.

Chapter 18 - Accessory

Kyle’s POV

The ballroom looked like it had been dipped in gold. Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto tables covered in black silk, and every inch of the place screamed old money and power.

“Fuck, man. I don’t belong here.” I mumbled to myself.

That chandelier up there costs more than my life.

I walked in beside Damien, feeling the way eyes slid toward us. Heavy stares of strangers gave me shivers.

Men in tailored suits, women in glittering gowns, everyone here could buy a building on a snap.

And yet, the way some of them looked at me, it wasn’t curiosity. It was calculation. The fuck are they looking at?

Damien’s hand pressed lightly against the small of my back, guiding me forward. Not a warm gesture, more like a warning to anyone watching.

We hadn’t even reached our table when I heard my name.

“Kyle.”

I turned and found Edward, tall in a navy suit, wearing the kind of smile that said he already owned the conversation. His gaze swept briefly over Damien, then lingered on me.

“Edward,” I said, trying to sound neutral.

I don’t actually know what to say to him. I just resigned on his company when Damien fired me. And now I’m back working for Damien again. I bet he thinks I’m an unprofessional jerk.

Damien’s eyes flicked, the faintest smirk tugging his lips. He didn’t extend his hand.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Edward continued, eyes flicking between us like he was trying to figure out something.

“You didn’t ask,” Damien replied, voice calm but cold.

The tension was so sudden, I could almost taste it.

Why am I even here? Damn.

Edward’s smile widened, like he’d just been given a challenge.

“Kyle, you look good tonight. Different from the last time we met.”

Damien’s jaw flexed.

“That’s because he’s with me now.” The words weren’t loud, but they cut through the air like glass.

Edward tilted his head, pretending not to notice the weight behind the statement.

“I wasn’t aware you were the… possessive type, Damien.”

“I’m only possessive about things worth keeping,” Damien said smoothly, his gaze locked on Edward like a warning shot.

The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the hall before Edward could respond, calling everyone to take their seats. Damien’s hand didn’t leave my back until we sat.

I am seriously confused. He’s holding me like he wants the world to know what relationship we have.

The auction began with art, rare pieces, vintage sculptures. The rich leaned forward in their seats, subtle nods to their agents, quiet whispers to companions. It wasn’t just about buying, it was about showing who could afford to.

The paintings aren’t that great, to be honest. I could paint better than those proclaimed painters.

Halfway through, a rare diamond piece was brought out, sparkling under the lights. The bidding war started politely, half a million, six, seven. Then Edward raised his paddle.

“One million.”

Damien didn’t even look at him. “Two.”

Edward’s smile was infuriating. “Three.”

Damien raised his glass of wine and, without glancing away from me, said, “Five.”

The crowd murmured. The auctioneer’s voice rose with excitement.

I leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “You don’t even want it, do you?”

Damien looked at me, expression unreadable. “I want him to know it’s mine.”

The auctioneer slammed the gavel. “Sold! To Mr. Damien Silviero.”

During the break, guests mingled with champagne in hand. Edward approached again, this time without a smile.

“You really think throwing money around makes you untouchable?” Edward said low enough for only us to hear.

“No,” Damien replied, stepping closer, his voice like steel. “But I know exactly how to make you back off.”

Edward’s eyes darted to me. “You think he’ll stay with you forever?”

Is this about me? What the fuck? All this for a loser like me?

I was confused as hell, looking at them alternately.

Damien’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“I don’t think, Edward. I decide.”

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes and it made my pulse quicken for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely. Edward, for all his bravado, stepped back with a tight jaw and walked away.

“Damien—”

“Keep quiet. It’s almost over.” He said and looked at his watch.

The rest of the night was a blur of applause, champagne, and whispered conversations Damien never fully explained.

The ride up to Damien’s penthouse felt longer than it should have. Damien stood beside me, his suit perfect but his posture coiled, his gaze fixed on the panel like it had personally offended him.

He didn’t touch me once. Didn’t look at me. And yet the air between us felt heavy, like a storm pressed inside a sealed glass box.

The doors slid open and I followed him into the massive penthouse.

He didn’t speak. He shrugged off his jacket in one sharp motion and threw it over the arm of the couch. Then he turned.

His eyes found me like a predator spotting prey. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a request.

I hesitated. “Damien—”

He didn’t wait for permission. Two strides and he was in front of me, his hand closing around my wrist, the other sliding to my waist.

His grip was firm, pulling me into his chest. His scent, smoke, and the faintest hint of the wine he’d sipped at the auction hit me instantly.

“I need you.” His voice was low, raw, almost dangerous.

I could feel the heat radiating from him, the restrained hunger in the way his thumb brushed my side.

I pressed lightly against his chest. “Wait.”

His head tilted, impatience flickering in his expression. “What?”

I sighed. I want to be enlightened and not be used like a f*ucktoy for once.

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me what’s going on with you and Edward.” I said.

Damien’s expression didn’t change much, but something in his jaw tightened.

“Why?”

“Because I just spent an entire evening being used as some kind of… power piece in whatever war you two are fighting.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but it wasn’t amusement.

“It’s not like that.”

“Then make me understand.”

He exhaled through his nose, slow, as if measuring each word. Finally, he stepped back, shoving a hand through his hair.

“Edward and I… we were rivals. Still are. Same business circles, same deals, same targets. For years, every time we’ve gone head-to-head, he’s lost. Every single time.”

I stayed silent, watching him.

Damien’s gaze went distant for a moment, like he was replaying a reel in his head.

“There was this deal five years ago. A merger he thought was in his pocket. Months of work, millions in leverage. I took it from him in one meeting. He’s been obsessed ever since. Tried to outbid me, outmaneuver me, charm my allies. He never succeeded. Not once.”

His eyes snapped back to mine. “And then I hear you’re working for him, after I fired you. It was like… like watching someone hand him a loaded gun and point it at me. I was,” His jaw flexed. “…furious.”

Something twisted in my chest. Was it what I thought it was?

“So you went after me because you thought he might win for once?”

Damien’s brow furrowed. “No. That’s not—”

I took a step closer, my voice cutting sharper. “Am I just an accessory, Damien? A prize? Something the winner gets to take home and display?”

His answer was immediate, almost too fast. “No. I want you, Kyle. Only you. You’re mine.”

I shook my head, the frustration in my chest finally spilling out.

“That’s what it looked like tonight. The way you stared him down, the way you raised your bid, it was like you were claiming a trophy, not a person.”

“You think I see you as a trophy?”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said, my voice tight. “So tell me. What are we?”

His answer was maddeningly simple. “We’re what we are.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the truth.”

I let out a dry laugh that had no humor in it.

“Why do we fuck around like we do? Why do you keep me here, sneaking around, making sure Sofia never finds out? Are you going to end your engagement and be with me instead?”

That’s when I saw it. Something flickering in his eyes, dark and dangerous.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

“You think I’m going to blow up everything just because you want a neat little label on this?” His voice had dropped lower, harder.

“This isn’t about a label,” I shot back. “It’s about knowing if I’m anything more than a way for you to get under Edward’s skin, or a distraction when you’re bored.”

Damien stepped forward, close enough that I could feel his breath. “Don’t you dare reduce this to boredom.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

His hand twitched like he almost wanted to grab me but didn’t.

“It’s me not being able to get you out of my head. It’s me wanting you even when I know I shouldn’t. It’s—” He cut himself off, his eyes narrowing. “It’s me willing to burn bridges for you.”

“That’s not enough,” I said quietly. “Wanting me isn’t enough if you’re never going to choose me.”

His expression hardened. “You think this is about choosing? This isn’t a fucking romance, Kyle. This is my life. My world. And you don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it,” I fired back. “Because right now, all I see is a man who will tear me apart just to keep me in his orbit.”

His jaw clenched. “And yet you’re still here.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “Maybe not for long.”

That did it. His eyes darkened in a way I’d only seen a few times, when he was angry enough to destroy something.

“You think you can walk out? Go ahead. But don’t think for a second you won’t remember exactly who I am when you do.” he uttered, cold and low.

“You mean the man who can buy anything but can’t be honest?” I shot back.

His lips curled into something colder. “Careful, Kyle.”

“No, Damien,” I said, stepping into his space this time. “You be careful. Because if all I am to you is a move on a chessboard, then you’ve already lost.”

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The city lights flickered against the glass, the air so thick I could barely breathe.

He finally broke the silence, his voice low and sharp.

“You’re mine. Whether you like the terms or not.”

I didn’t look away. “Then maybe it’s time I renegotiate.”

Chapter 19 - Flowers

Kyle’s POV

The fuck was I still doing here?

Damn it.

I muttered that to myself while fixing my tie in the mirror of the elevator. After last night, I’d half-convinced myself I’d wake up to an email saying I was fired.

Instead, here I was, back at the office, still working for a man who could drive me insane and still make my pulse race just by existing.

“No dignity left, Kyle?” said to myself again and thought of banging my head on the wall.

It started like a normal morning. Except it wasn’t.

Kyle: mad. Damien: hard as a rock, pride harder than cement, and still unbelievably handsome in his charcoal suit.

The man didn’t even look human sometimes, more like something sculpted to intimidate the world.

I placed the mug on his desk. “Coffee.”

“Mm,” he replied, not looking up, pen scratching across contracts like the paper had wronged him.

At ten, we had a meeting with the board. I sat at the far end, jotting notes and avoiding his gaze.

His voice filled the room like it always did. Deep and commanding. Also impossible to ignore but I kept my focus on the notepad in front of me.

When the meeting wrapped just before lunch, people began filing out, chatting lightly. I packed my notes, ready to bolt for the cafeteria.

Except Damien didn’t move. I was waiting for him to, but he didn’t move his ass up his seat.

He stayed in his chair, watching the room empty until it was just us.

“Are you still mad at me?” he finally asked.

I didn’t answer.

He sighed. The kind of sigh that said patience wasn’t his strongest quality. Then he stood and crossed the room toward me, his presence pulling the air tighter.

“Ignore me again and I’ll—”

“What?” I cut in, not looking up. “Fire me?”

He let out another sigh. Then, to my surprise, he reached out and pulled me into an embrace.

I froze. Damien didn’t hug. He pinned, cornered, caged. Hugging was… soft. Not him.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “I don’t like it when you ignore me.”

“Your fault,” I said flatly. “Use me like a weapon again—”

“I’m not going to. You’re not a weapon.”

He pulled back slightly, tilting my chin so I’d face him. Man, he’s freaking tall!

My eyes darted anywhere but his. I couldn’t look at him.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured.

“I don’t.” I stepped back, brushing his hand away. Not this time. I wasn’t going to let him push me around like before.

---

I ate lunch alone in the cafeteria, stabbing my fork into a sad salad while half the staff whispered nearby. Normally, I’d eat in Damien’s office. Not today.

When I returned to my desk, something caught my eye. A bar of chocolate resting on my keyboard.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Probably from the girls in HR again. They liked leaving little treats on people’s desks sometimes. But when I picked it up, a small folded note slipped free.

My smile faded.

I knew this handwriting.

I looked across the room. Damien was at his desk, signing something. Then, almost like he felt it, his head lifted. Our eyes met.

I frowned. He didn’t look away.

I glanced back at the chocolate, then at him.

And damn it… I smiled. Just a little. Secretly.

Damien didn’t do small gestures. The man thought a grand gesture was paying off someone’s debt. But here he was, trying. Trying in the only awkward, silent way he knew how.

Still… until I hear a “sorry,” I wasn’t giving in.

---

By six, I was packing up to leave. The sun was already dipping behind the skyline when a knock came at the glass door of the reception area.

“Delivery for Kyle,” the man said, holding a bouquet.

A bouquet.

“What?” I blinked, signing the clipboard. He handed it over, all greens and vibrant blooms, smelling faintly of something sweet and expensive.

Who sent this?

I just stood there, bouquet in hand, trying to comprehend what the hell just happened.

“You like them?”

The voice was low, smooth, and far too close.

I turned slowly. “What?”

“Do you like the flowers?”

My brain stalled. Wait…

“These are from… you?”

“Yeah.” His tone was maddeningly casual, as if this wasn’t the most unexpected thing in the world.

I looked down at them again. He gave me flowers.

He gave me flowers.

Damien Atticus Silviero. Mr. Power Suit, Mr. Control Everything , Mr. No One Tells Me No.  Gave me fucking flowers.

The elevator ride down felt weird. Not bad-weird. Not good-weird. Just… weird.

I had a literal bouquet of flowers in my hands, the scent of them filling the small space. Every time I glanced at them, my brain reminded me: Damien gave you these.

I am usually the one to give flowers to my ex-girlfriends, but this time it was me who received it.

I tried not to smile like an idiot in front of the security guard when I walked through the lobby. I failed.

On the train, people stared. I couldn’t tell if it was because I looked out of place holding them, or because they thought I had some sweet romantic partner waiting for me at home.

If only they knew.

---

Back in my apartment, I set them on the kitchen counter.

The apartment suddenly smelled different. It smelled fresh and soft. My space had never smelled like this. I pulled out a vase, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers like I knew what I was doing.

Then I just stared at them.

What the hell was I supposed to do with this? Not literally, the vase solved that, but emotionally.

Damien didn’t do flowers. He didn’t even do “thank you.” The man was all sharp edges, dark suits, and a stare that could strip someone’s confidence in two seconds.

And yet today he gave me flowers and chocolates.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to apologize.

Except he still hadn’t said the word. And I wasn’t about to let him skip it.

I took a shower, ate dinner, and kept glancing at the vase like it was mocking me.

---

It was close to midnight when my phone lit up on the nightstand.

Damien: Are they on your table?

I stared at the screen for a second before typing back.

Me: Yeah.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Damien: Every time you see them, think of me.

I rolled my eyes. Of course he had to make it sound like a command instead of something sweet.

Me: That’s not how flowers work.

No reply for a minute. Then—

Damien: With us, it is.

I set the phone down, my chest annoyingly warm despite myself. Dammit.

Chapter 20 - Hades

The smell of sizzling bacon filled my kitchen, but my eyes weren’t on the pan, they were on the flowers sitting pretty on the counter. Damien’s flowers.

I don’t even know why I keep looking at them. Maybe because they’re too perfect.

Perfectly arranged, perfectly fresh, perfectly him. Like every petal was screaming: You’re mine.

Tss. Arrogant jerk.

I shook my head, plated my breakfast, and ate while pretending the bouquet wasn’t burning a hole into my peripheral vision.

Then I showered, grabbed my favorite body wash. The one that smells clean, crisp, and just the right amount of manly. It’s my confidence in a bottle.

Day off today. No deadlines. No meetings. Just me, my bed, and at least ten hours of sleep.

Or so I thought.

When I checked my phone, his name lit up my screen.

Grumpy Boss: Are you free today?

My brow furrowed. Why was he even texting me?

Me: It’s my day off.

Grumpy Boss: I’ll pick you up. I’m taking you with me.

…What?

Excuse me, Mr. CEO of My Life Decisions? Does this man just kidnap people on their rest days now?

I stared at my phone in disbelief. Since when did Damien get to schedule me on my personal time?

“Huh, you’re funny, boss.” I said to myself.

Me: Where are you taking me?

Grumpy Boss: Somewhere. Get dressed.

Grumpy Boss: Or you can wait for me. I’ll watch you get dressed.

I nearly dropped my phone. This man. This infuriating, smug man. My brain immediately conjured an image of him leaning on my doorway, eyes roaming, smirk in place. And my body… reacted in a way I refused to acknowledge.

I didn’t reply. Absolutely not feeding that ego today.

I turned to my closet, debating my outfit like it was a life-or-death choice. Casual? Or the professional secretary look he’s used to seeing me in?

My mind was mid-argument when my front door opened.

I froze.

There he was. Damien in a fitted Ralph Lauren polo and perfectly cut denim pants. Simple, but on him? Gorgeous.

My eyes betrayed me, trailing from his broad shoulders down to the way those jeans sat on his hips. I gulped.

He caught me. Of course he did.

“Done checking me out?” His smirk was lazy, confident. The kind that said he’d been checked out his whole life.

“In your dreams. Wait for me there— Damien!”

I didn’t even finish my sentence before he was behind me, hands on my hips, pulling me back until my spine met the solid wall of his chest.

My towel was the only thing between us. My breath hitched instantly.

“You smell fresh,” he murmured against my ear, his voice low enough to make my knees weaken. “We can do a quick round if you want.”

The goosebumps came instantly, shivering down my arms and back.

“W-We can’t, Damien. We’ll be— we’ll be late…” My words trembled, not from fear but from how close his lips were to my skin.

His mouth found my neck, biting softly before soothing the spot with warm, deliberate kisses.

Then lower, to my shoulder blades. My head tilted without me even realizing it, giving him more space.

“You’re making me hard with your smell. This is all your fault,” he growled in that dark, sinful tone that went straight to my gut.

And then… I felt it.

His growing hardness pressed firmly against me, unashamed, letting me know exactly what was happening in his head. My pulse spiked.

My hands gripped the edge of my towel tighter, as if it could keep me from falling apart.

“Damien, ah, fuck…” The moan slipped out before my brain could block it.

He chuckled low in his throat, a sound that made my stomach twist. “Hmm?”

“We can’t…” I breathed, almost hating myself for saying it.

“You sure?”

“Hmm, yeah…”

He stopped. Just like that. Like he actually listened. He stepped back, his warmth leaving me, and sat on my small couch, watching me with that dangerous calm.

“Okay, scaredy cat. Get dressed before I can no longer resist it.”

I swallowed hard, trying to compose myself, but my pulse was still racing and my body… well, let’s just say Damien wasn’t the only one left frustrated.

Damn it.

I grabbed my closet door like it was a shield, turning my back to him. If I didn’t see him, maybe I could pretend he wasn’t there… sitting, watching, waiting like a damn hawk.

The problem? I could feelhis eyes on me. Not just glancing but tracking.

I pulled out a plain white shirt, then tossed it back in. Too casual. Tried a button-down. Nope, too much like I was going to the office.

My brain was panicking over clothes while my body was panicking over the fact that Damien was silently sitting there, radiating heat and temptation.

“You’re taking a long time,” he drawled.

“I’m deciding,” I said without looking at him.

“You can wear anything, Kyle. Or nothing. I’m fine either way.”

I froze mid-motion. My hand was halfway to grabbing a pair of jeans, and suddenly my skin felt too warm.

I forced myself to keep moving, slipping on the jeans quickly before my towel decided to betray me.

When I finally turned around to grab my shirt, his gaze dropped instantly, not to my face, but lower.

I threw him a glare. “Eyes up here, boss.”

He smirked, leaning back on the couch, one arm stretched lazily along the backrest.

“Sorry. They wandered.”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered, yanking the shirt over my head.

I thought that would end it, but the moment the fabric settled, I caught him biting his lip, like the act of me just getting dressed was somehow entertainment for him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I warned.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re imagining things.”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t even blink. Just got up slowly, closing the distance between us until I had to tilt my head back to keep eye contact.

“Who says I’m imagining?” he murmured, his breath warm against my temple. Then, without touching me, he stepped past, heading for the door. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

My legs refused to move for a second. He knew exactly what he was doing. Heating me up, then walking away like nothing happened.

If this was some kind of power game… damn it, he was winning.

I slid into his passenger seat, the leather cold against my legs. Damien started the engine like he had all the time in the world.

“Can you tell me where we’re going now?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

“To the farm,” he said simply.

I blinked. “You have a farm?”

“Mm.” He hummed.

“Farm? What’s your business there?”

“You ask too many questions.” His lips twitched. “Just wait and see.”

“Tss, fine,” I muttered, leaning back.

He glanced at me sideways, that subtle smirk forming. “You’re getting way too comfortable talking to me like that, huh?”

“And you’re getting too comfortable taking me anywhere you’d like. Even on my day off.”

He didn’t answer. He just smirked wider like I’d walked right into something.

The drive wasn’t long. Soon, he pulled into an open stretch of land where grass swayed under a soft breeze. The air here was cooler and fresher. I honestly believed it made my lungs feel cleaner.

A man in a dark jumper approached. He wore a fitted long-sleeved shirt, sturdy brown riding breeches tucked into tall black boots, and a protective helmet hanging by his side. Kind of gear people who took care of horses wore, practical and well-worn.

“Mr. Silviero, Hades has been waiting for you,” the man said with a nod.

Hades? My mind went wild. Was that a sibling? A guard dog? Some intimidating business partner?

Then we walked past the barn and there he was, a massive black horse. His coat gleamed like polished obsidian under the sunlight. He looked like a creature pulled from myth, all power and elegance.

“Wow,” I mumbled in amusement.

“My good boy. Come here,” Damien murmured, taking the lead rope. The horse pressed his face into Damien’s, like they were old friends.

“You can change behind the barn,” Damien said, jerking his chin toward a small structure nearby.

“Change into what?”

“You’ll see.”

The ‘you’ll see’ turned out to be a full horse-riding getup. Fitted breeches, high boots, a snug button-up, and a helmet. I stared at the clothes like they’d personally offended me.

When I stepped out wearing them, I crossed my arms.

“Okay, what’s going on here? Are you about to sell me off to some medieval lord? Make me join a jousting tournament? Do I need a sword?”

Damien barely glanced up from adjusting Hades’ bridle. “I told Mariano to get Pedro. He’s the gentlest horse. You can handle him.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse before, Damien. What if he tosses me off like a sack of rice—”

“What a pussy. Tsk. Come here.”

Before I could protest, he took my hips in his hands and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My boots hit the stirrups awkwardly.

“Damien—”

“Relax. You’re with me.”

The words did something strange to my chest.

We waited for Mariano, but instead of Pedro, Damien swung onto Hades in one smooth motion.

“Let’s wait for him up the hill,” he said.

“Wait—what?” I didn’t get to finish because Hades surged forward, Damien steering us from behind.

“Fuck!” I yelped, clutching at the saddle as the wind tore through my hair. My heartbeat was a drum in my ears.

Damien’s body was solid against my back, steady while mine felt like it could fly off at any moment.

“Let him know who’s in control,” Damien said in my ear, his voice deep and unshakable. He handed me the reins. “Pull this if you want him to go left. Try it.”

I tugged. Nothing. Hades kept moving like I didn’t exist.

“I can’t! He’s strong…” I whined.

“Harder. Pull him harder.”

I tried again, this time putting more force into it. The horse finally shifted, and I exhaled, realizing my palms were damp against the leather.

My heart was pounding. And I wasn’t sure if it was because of the raw power of the animal beneath me, or because Damien had never held me this carefully before.

His hands weren’t just controlling the reins, they were steadying me, keeping me safe.

It was different. A new kind of feeling.

To be handled with care. By him.

Thank you for reading this story.

Chapter 21 - Interrupted

“Are you ready?” Damien’s voice cut through the sound of the wind.

He sat tall on Hades, steady and unbothered, while I was on Pedro’s back, shaking like a leaf in a storm. My hands were clammy on the reins, my legs stiff against the saddle.

Almost a panic attack.

I replayed what Damien had taught me earlier, chanting it in my head until the steps felt drilled into me. Left pull, right pull, gentle pressure with the legs, stay calm. Breathe.

Pedro started walking, slow and steady. His movements were rhythmic, almost soothing. My shoulders began to drop from their tense perch near my ears.

The anxiety didn’t vanish completely, but it loosened enough for me to notice the fresh air filling my lungs.

We took a slow path around a cliff edge, the view below opening into a patchwork of green and gold crops. The sunlight spilled over the land like liquid gold.

“You’re a good boy, Pedro.” then I patted his neck.

Damien followed behind, controlling Hades with a casual grace that made it look like the horse was an extension of him, like he could steer him with just a thought.

“Faster this time, Kyle!” he called out, voice carrying across the open space.

My stomach dropped. I clutched the reins tighter.

“Be gentle with me, Pedro,” I muttered under my breath, leaning forward. “My mom would be worried sick if I die.”

Then, in one reckless motion, I whipped the rope.

“FUCK!” I shouted as Pedro surged forward, the wind tearing at my face. My eyes watered, partly from speed, partly from panic. I clung to the reins like they were my lifeline.

But before the fear could spiral out of control, I remembered to pull. Pedro slowed just in time, stopping in front of where Hades and Damien were waiting.

“You learn easily,” Damien said, his smirk deepening. “That’s why I like you.”

Then, without warning, he turned Hades and took off like some wild cowboy in a movie. His body moved in sync with the horse.

Strong pulls on the reins, firm posture, that wide back flexing under his polo. Even through the fabric, I could see the definition of his muscles as he steered with precision.

When he returned, there was a sheen of sweat over his skin, the sunlight catching on it.

“Let’s go that way,” he said, nodding toward a rocky path. “There’s a falls nearby.”

The route was uneven, but the air was colder, and every step revealed more of the hidden beauty of the place.

Trees arched over us, their leaves whispering in the breeze. I hadn’t felt this light in a long time. And somewhere between the fear of riding and the pride of actually managing it, I realized I was grinning.

We broke through the last stretch of woods, and there it was, the waterfall. A white curtain of rushing water spilling into a clear, wide pool. Mist hung in the air, cool against my skin.

“Damn,” I breathed. “If I had my phone, I’d be here for an hour taking pictures.”

Damien slid off Hades in one smooth motion, came to me, and helped me down from Pedro. His hands were firm at my waist as my boots hit the earth.

He tied both horses to a nearby tree, where they immediately lowered their heads to snack on leaves.

Then, without hesitation, he started stripping, boots first, then polo. His tanned chest came into view, all hard planes and ridges. Then his belt, until he was left in nothing but boxers.

Before I could say anything, he dove cleanly into the water.

I stood there, stunned, watching him cut through the water like a professional swimmer. He reached the base of the falls, turned, and motioned for me to follow.

I peeled off my riding gear, stacking it carefully beside his. The cold hit me the second I dove in, sharp, biting, electric.

But the moment I reached him, his hands found me. He pulled me against his chest, the heat of his skin shocking against the chill of the water.

“You have the guts to ride Pedro like that. How about you do it to me, too?” he whispered while his forehead was pressed to mine.

And then, under the roar of the falls, Damien kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about winning or dominance. It was consuming. The world blurred until it was only him,  his mouth, the press of his body, the feel of his hand at the back of my neck anchoring me in place.

No noise but the waterfall. No eyes but his. No rules, no judgment.

Just us.

And the wild, unshakable pull that kept dragging me back to him.

We soaked in the water for hours, racing across the pool, splashing each other like we were twelve again.

“That’s cheating!” I shouted when he caught me mid-swim and dunked me under.

“Life’s not fair sometimes,” Damien grinned before splashing me so hard I almost choked.

When the sun started to sink, we climbed back onto Pedro and Hades. Mariano was already waiting.

“Good ride?” he asked, taking Pedro’s reins.

“Good enough that my thighs will hate me tomorrow,” I muttered.

Damien chuckled, patting Hades. “Take care of them for me, Mariano.”

We headed toward the house. The place was massive, the kind of mansion you see in period films.

“Wow,” I whispered. “This… doesn’t look like a farm.”

“It’s both,” he said simply, pushing open the heavy wooden door.

Inside smelled faintly of cedar and something floral. Antique vases stood like guards in each corner. The hallways were lined with serious-faced portraits that all seemed to be watching me.

“You related to all of these people?” I asked.

“Unfortunately,” he said with a smirk.

In the kitchen, a woman stood over the stove, flipping something in a pan. The fridge was crammed with fresh greens and vegetables.

“Eat more,” Damien urged once we were seated. “You’ll need the energy.”

“Energy for what?” I asked suspiciously.

He only smiled and cut another piece of steak.

By the time we were done, the sky was bleeding gold. Damien headed upstairs without a word, so I followed. His bedroom was big, dark, and sleek.

“Shower first,” he said, handing me clothes. “I need to make calls.”

When I came out, towel-drying my hair, he was pacing with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Tell him I do not want any disturbance until Monday,” his voice was sharp, commanding.

I stayed quiet, sitting on the edge of the bed. He ended the call and strode to the bathroom without looking at me.

I just pulled out my phone for a while to check emails and messages.

When he came out, towel slung low on his hips, showing his v-line, water trailing in slow drops down his abs, my breath caught.

The way his muscles flexed when he ran a smaller towel over his chest. It’s unfair. I stared before I could stop myself.

“Uh—”

“You’ll catch a fly in your mouth, Kyle,” he teased.

I scowled. “What are you talking about? I wasn’t—”

But my attempt at playing it cool ended when he walked over, plucked my phone from my hands, and tilted my chin toward him.

“You don’t need that. Just look at me.”

His green eyes locked on mine, sharp, intense, and far too close. I didn’t even realize I’d swallowed until my throat felt dry.

Before I could think of a comeback, his lips were on mine.

It wasn’t gentle. His mouth moved over mine with hunger, his hand cupping my neck like I might try to get away.

“Damien—” I gasped between kisses.

“Shut up,” he muttered against my lips, kissing me harder.

My arms locked around his neck, and before I knew it, I was in his lap, the towel barely hanging on his hips.

“Isn’t this… too early?” I whispered.

“I don’t have a schedule,” he murmured. “I want you now.”

His hands were everywhere, warm and certain—

RING. RING. RING.

He ignored it.

RING. RING.

He swore under his breath and set me down gently on the bed.

“What?” he barked into the phone. “I told you—”

He froze mid-sentence. Whatever he heard made the muscles in his jaw flex.

“…I’ll be there.”

He ended the call, turned to me, and said, “Get dressed. We’re going back.”

“Wait, what? Why—”

“Now, Kyle.” His voice left no room for questions.

The heat in the room vanished, replaced by a tension that made my stomach knot.

Chapter 22 - What’s Mine

Kyle’s POV

Damien dropped me off at my place without saying a single word.

No parting glance. No “goodnight.” No “see you tomorrow.”

Just the slam of the car door, a sharp sound that stayed lodged in my ears long after his taillights disappeared into the dark.

I could’ve asked him what was wrong, but my throat had locked shut. Maybe I was afraid of the answer. Maybe I already knew it wouldn’t have anything to do with me.

---

A day passed.

No call and no text. Maybe it wasn’t really his thing.

I filled my hours with meaningless errands, shopping, stocking my fridge with food I didn’t even want, dusting shelves that weren’t dusty. I read a book but couldn’t remember a single sentence.

Still, every time my phone buzzed, my chest tightened.

It was never him.

---

The next morning, I walked into the office rehearsing what I’d say if I saw him. Maybe we could talk about what happened in the farm. I had so fun riding Pedro. Or maybe, just a casual talk. Anything from him.

We needed to talk and clear the air, make sense of this strange, jagged thing between us.

I stopped by Aaron’s office to drop off a flash drive. Then I went straight to Damien’s door—

Empty.

His chair was turned away, the desk spotless. The air smelled stale, like no one had been in here all night. The room ran cold.

Something in my chest sank.

---

Hours passed. My hands moved over the keyboard, but my mind was miles away.

I was his secretary. Shouldn’t I know where he was?

I gathered enough courage and by noon, I finally called him.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

He didn’t answer.

I emailed him instead. Professional tone, no hint of the fact that I wanted to ask where the hell he’d gone.

Still no reply.

---

I did my usual work. I answered calls, acted on his behalf.

By six, I was shutting down my computer when Mark walked up beside me.

“Boss was absent today,” he grinned. “Bet it felt good to get a break from the Lion’s wrath.”

“Yeah…” I tried to smile. “I didn’t even know where he was. Guess the secretary doesn’t always know where his boss is—”

“Wait, you didn’t hear?” Mark’s voice dropped to a gossiping hush. “Mila said Sofia, you know, Damien’s fiancée, was hospitalized last night.”

The words were slow, heavy.

“Mila thinks she’s pregnant. Damien might be a daddy now. Maybe that’ll make him less of an ass.”

“Oh.” It was all I could manage.

Pregnant.

Sofia.

Damien’s child.

I stared at nothing.

“You okay?” Mark asked.

“Yeah,” I lied.

“You’re spacing out, dude. Here’s my ride, see you tomorrow.

He left, and I stood frozen on the sidewalk, the words replaying in my head. Sofia’s in the hospital, pregnant with Damien’s baby.

By the time my feet started moving, I was already walking toward a dim-lit bar, the kind that smelled like stale liquor and bad decisions.

“Another,” I told the bartender.

He eyed me. “Tough day?”

“Why’d you guess that?”

“It’s Monday and you’re drinking whiskey.” he said like it was obvious.

I smirked without humor. “Yeah. Tough day.”

“Kyle. Fancy seeing you here.“

I turned my head sluggishly. Edward stood there, smiling like we were old friends.

“Give him water,” he told the bartender. “I’ll pay his tab.”

“No,” I slurred, “I want more. Two shots.”

The bartender looked at Edward. Edward gave him a nod, and two more shots slid in front of me.

“You still have to work tomorrow,” Edward said. “I’d stop now if I were you.”

“I can handle myself, Ed…ward…” I slurred again. I’m fucking drunk, ain’t I?

He chuckled. “So. How’s Damien?”

“He’s an ass. But a genius. A fucking genius.”

Edward’s smirk widened “I’d kill for someone to talk about me like that. It’s a waste to let you slip away. I like you.”

I frowned. “You like me? That’s gay, Edward. So fucking gay!” I laughed, and he laughed too.

“Come on, you’re wasted. What’s your address?”

I couldn’t answer. He reached for my wallet in my pocket. My head was spinning, vision blurry.

Then, a sharp crack split the air like a gunshot.

Edward’s body hit the floor.

The man standing over him was broad, solid, and radiating fury. His shadow swallowed the light around him.

Damien.

His voice was raw when he shouted, “I told you to stay the fuck away from what’s mine!”

I barely processed the words before everything went black.

When I woke, I smelled him before I saw him. His cologne. His skin. That mix of leather and something darker.

I blinked and found myself in a moving car. He was at the wheel, jaw tight, eyes on the road.

“What the fuck… are you doing here?” My voice was thick, slurred.

“You’re wasted, Kyle. I’m taking you home.”

We pulled up to my building. He got out, came to my side, and hauled me up before I could fight him off.

“Stop—let go!”

“Stop fucking resisting.”

“Damien… you jerk…”

“What?”

“I said you’re a jerk,” I spat, jabbing his chest with my finger.

He exhaled sharply, scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing, and carried me up the stairs.

Inside my apartment, he set me down on my bed. My head spun so hard I almost tipped over.

“Did you go to that bar with Edward?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“Never mind. You’re drunk. On a fucking Monday night.”

“You don’t fucking get to tell me what to do.”

“Careful. I’m still your boss.”

“Not outside that building. And not when I’m off the clock. You treat people like toys. It’s not like you paid for my body too.”

His voice sharpened. Then, he snapped. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. You used me when you were horny, then disappeared like I was nothing!”

“I was at the hospital—”

“I know!” My voice broke. “With your fucking fiancée and your fucking baby!”

The silence was suffocating. My chest hurt, my throat burned.

He sighed like it hurt him to even talk.

“Rest. We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

“I should’ve never let myself feel this way about you,” I said, tears stinging my eyes. “You’re arrogant, you’re cruel, you think everyone’s beneath you, and still, I fucking like you. I broke everything I believed in because of you. You son of a bitch…”

I collapsed backward. The darkness took me before I could see if his expression changed.

–

The first thing I felt was the headache. The kind that made my skull feel like it was pulsing against my skin.

The second thing I felt was warmth, too close, too steady to be sunlight.

I blinked my eyes open and froze.

Damien was there.

Not just in my apartment. Not just standing over me. He was sitting in the chair beside my bed, his coat draped over the armrest, sleeves rolled up, forearms tense.

His eyes were on me. Not cold. Not soft. Something in between, something unreadable that made my stomach knot.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly, like he’d been waiting.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” My voice cracked, dry from the alcohol.

“You passed out mid-sentence last night. I wasn’t leaving you like that.”

I pushed myself up on my elbows. “So you just… sat there all night? Watching me?”

He didn’t answer, just tilted his head slightly, like he was studying me for damage.

“Do you remember what you said?” he asked.

I swallowed hard. “Bits and pieces.”

“You accused me of using you.”

“I didn’t accuse you. I told you.” My voice sharpened, even through the rasp. “That’s exactly what you did.”

His jaw flexed. “You think I brought you home because I feel guilty?”

“I think you’re here because your ego can’t stand the idea of someone walking away from you.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the air between us tightening. “You have no idea what was going on yesterday.”

“I know enough,” I shot back. “Your fiancée’s pregnant. Congratulations, by the way. You’re going to be a father. That’s what was so ‘urgent,’ right?”

Something flashed across his face. Anger, maybe, or something darker. But it was gone before I could name it.

“She’s not pregnant,” he said finally, voice low, steady. “And it wasn’t what you think.”

“Then tell me what it was.”

“No.”

That single word hit harder than I expected.

I laughed, bitter and humorless. “Right. Because I’m just the secretary. The fuck buddy. The toy. I don’t get answers.”

“Kyle—”

“Don’t.” My throat was tight. “Don’t say my name like that. Don’t act like you care. Because if you did, you wouldn’t leave me hanging like some idiot waiting for a text that’s never coming.”

He stared at me, silent, the muscles in his jaw twitching. Then, finally,

“You make it very hard for me to stay away.”

My breath caught, but before I could respond, he stood up, shrugged his coat back on, and headed for the door.

“Get some rest,” he said without looking back.

The door shut softly behind him, but the sound still felt like it cracked through my chest.

Chapter 23 - Breakfing Point

Kyle’s POV

I took a three-day sick leave, not to rest, but to think. To strip away the noise and finally face what was gnawing at me.

Damien tried to reach out. Call after call. I told him I was sick, then shut the door on every attempt, just like he had shut me out.

This wasn’t childish. This was clarity. If cutting him off outside of work hours was the only way to protect myself, then so be it. I’m his secretary.

I’ll assist him. I’ll do what’s good for the company. I’ll fulfill my job description, nothing more.

When my leave ended, I arrived early. Earlier than the janitors, almost. My desk was spotless before the clock even hit eight.

At exactly 8:00 a.m., he walked in. I didn’t have to look to know his eyes found me. I could feel it, that weight, that familiar pull. But I kept my gaze on my work, hands moving, heart unmoved.

I brought him his coffee, the usual.

“No meetings this morning, Mr. Silviero,” I said, my voice stripped of warmth. “But we’re expecting a call from Mr. Galvez for the contract signing. His lawyer will be here at five p.m.”

I placed the sorted documents on his desk with mechanical precision. “These need to be signed, and these are for your review.”

“Kyle, you don’t have to speak forma—”

“If you may excuse me, Mr. Silviero, I need to follow up with Aaron.” I dipped my head slightly and left without waiting for his reply.

Aaron still couldn’t access the file. I slid into his chair and fixed it myself, my fingers flying over the keys.

“Here. Done.”

“Damn, bro, I could kiss you right now!” he said dramatically, pulling my face toward his. I stopped him with my palm. “You’re gross. Submit it now. I still need to scan it before turning.”

He grinned. “Coffee’s on me later, man. You’re the best, Mr. Sunshine.”

I smiled faintly. At least someone saw me as something more than a convenient body.

When I returned to my desk, I froze. A bouquet. The exact flowers Damien had once given me. My chest tightened. The card confirmed what I already knew, they were from him.

I sighed, moving them aside. Pretty things are easy to buy. Love is harder.

Respect, even harder than that. Flowers wilt. And whatever Damien made me feel… it made me feel like I was only worth something when he wanted me in his bed.

At lunch, I sat with Aaron, Mark, and a few others at the cafeteria. The banter was crude but lighthearted.

“Aaron got dumped! Then got dumped again! What a curse!” Mark teased, making the table laugh.

“Girls are picky these days,” Aaron said. “I’m starting to think my soulmate is a man.”

“Maybe find someone with a bigger c*ck than you and be a bottom,” Mark shot back, laughing loudly.

“Have you fucked a guy before?” Aaron asked, curious.

“Yeah, man. I kid you not, they give the best blow-fucking-jobs!”

My fork paused midair. Mark? The womanizer?

“Kyle, how about you?” Aaron asked, turning to me.

“Yeah. Tried it with a guy,” I said casually. I’m actually the bottom.

“Oh, man. I’m missing out!” Aaron laughed. Somehow, the weight in my chest eased just a little.

When I got back at exactly 12:30, Damien was there. Standing over my desk like a shadow.

“Yes, Mr. Silviero? Do you need anything else?”

“You,” he said, his voice low.

I pretended not to hear the weight in it. “The contract signing is at five p.m., sir. Unless you’d like me to—”

“Cancel it. Let’s talk.”

“About what, Mr. Silviero?”

“About us.”

“I don’t discuss my personal life during office hours, sir. I hope you respect that.” I gave him a polite smile that never touched my eyes.

“Kyle, don’t be stubborn. We haven’t—”

“I understand, sir. But I’ve thought about it. Three days was enough to decide. From now on, I’ll be your secretary during office hours only. After six p.m. and on weekends, I’m unavailable.”

His jaw tightened. His fist curled against my desk.

“What do you want me to do? Apologize? Fine. I apologize.” He said it like the word cost him nothing.

“You don’t have to, Mr. Silviero—”

“Damien. Call me Damien.”

“But you said—”

“Call me Damien, Kyle. That’s an order!” His palm slammed down, coffee trembling in the cup.

I didn’t flinch. I calmly wiped the spill from his hand, meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think this is working anymore,” I said, my voice steady even as my chest felt like it was caving in. The air between us was tight, suffocating, but I forced myself to meet his eyes. “You value my work? Then keep me as your secretary and nothing more.”

His jaw clenched, but I didn’t give him the space to interrupt. “But if we can’t stick to that… if you can’t separate me from what I can give you… then it’s better I walk away for good.”

Something flickered in his gaze. Anger, disbelief, and something else he couldn’t quite hide.

His fingers curled into a fist against the desk, knuckles white. For a long, unbearable moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner.

“You really think it’s that easy?” he asked finally, his voice low and sharp.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave the smallest nod. “No,” I whispered. “But it’s the only way I can survive you.”

Silence.

I shut down my computer, the quiet click of the keys feeling louder than it should.

Carry on, Kyle. You deserve better.

My chest felt like it was being pinched tight by invisible hands. I shouldn’t have come back. I was a fool to let myself feel anything for him, to believe even for a second that I could be more than convenience.

With my briefcase in hand, I turned to go.

I barely made it past his desk before his fingers wrapped around my arm. Tight and desperate, a silent plea hiding in the pressure of his grip.

“Kyle—”

I pulled free. Walked forward.

“It’s over for us, Damien. Please, let me go.”

Then his arms wrapped around me from behind. Hard. Almost desperate.

“Baby, please. Don’t leave me.” His voice cracked on the word please.

I closed my eyes. Swallowed the ache in my throat.

My voice wavered, but I forced the words out, each one slicing me open. “I can’t stay, Damien… not when I know I’ll never be the one you choose.” I swallowed hard, my throat burning.

“Kyle, please. Please… I’ll be good, I promise. Not now, Kyle. Please…”

The words tumbled out of him, ragged and unsteady. Nothing like the man who always stood unshaken, untouchable. I had never heard his voice crack before, never seen the mask slip this far.

His desperation clawed at me, threatening to pull me under.

But I knew this feeling, the kind that tempts you to stay, to hope, to forgive, and I knew how it ends. Just like him, I’ve had to learn the hard way.

Sometimes survival means choosing yourself, even if it tears you apart to walk away.

“I can’t keep building my world around you, only for you to tear it down when I’m no longer what you want.” I felt his grip falter, just slightly, but it was enough.

My chest ached, every breath sharp. “I’d rather walk away now… than stay long enough to watch you break me piece by piece.”

And I left and never looked back.

Chapter 24 - A New Start

Kyle’s POV

Exactly ten months since I left.

Ten months since I walked out of Damien Silviero’s world and disappeared from everyone who once knew me.

I left my friends. Mark, Aaron, and the others without a proper goodbye. Moved to a different city.

I rented a place that wasn’t even half the size of my old apartment, but it was cheaper, quieter.

I used my last paycheck and what little savings I had to take the risk of starting over.

Edward heard about my separation from Damien. He even offered me the same position at his company. I told him no.

Accepting would feel like taking advantage of his kindness, and I didn’t want to be anyone’s pity case.

So here I am, working in a cooperative in a small town five hours away from the chaos I used to call life.

No glass offices. No power suits. Just shared desks, chipped mugs, and the smell of brewed coffee that wasn’t imported from Italy but bought in bulk from a local farmer.

“Coffee?” Clark’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I was standing in front of the vending machine, watching the can rattle its way down like I was hypnotized by it.

“Yeah,” I muttered, pressing the button. The cold drink landed with a hollow clunk.

I took a sip. Bitter. Always bitter. Just like the feeling lodged somewhere between my ribs.

No matter how far I ran, I never felt whole again. It was as if Damien had taken a piece of me I’d never get back.

The last time I heard about him, before changing my number and vanishing from social media, the news had already spread through the office like wildfire.

The ruthless CEO and his secretary had an affair. Not just any secretary. His male secretary. Me.

I sighed, the memory heavy in my chest. Damien must have been ashamed that people found out.

I never wanted it to be revealed that way. But I left knowing we’d never move forward.

And in my mind, I told myself, he’s probably a father now. Married, raising a child. A real family man.

I went back to my desk. The place wasn’t glamorous. Everyone shared everything, desks, food, laughter. And still, no amount of warmth here could fill the cold space in my heart.

“Hi, handsome.”

I looked up. Dominic was standing there, holding a slice of lemon pie.

“Hey. Smells good.”

He grinned. Dominic wasn’t technically a baker, but he liked to bake. Since we were a cooperative, local farmers donated fresh produce, and somehow, Dom turned those into pies, cakes, and bread that made the whole office smell like a festival.

I took a big bite, too big. The lemon filling slid down my chin.

“Oh, boy,” he chuckled, wiping it away without hesitation. His fingers were warm. “You just made me wish I was a lemon pie.”

I smirked. “I’ll make sure you get crispy after I toss you in the oven then.”

He laughed, dimples deep on his cheeks, before walking away.

When I glanced around, everyone was staring like I’d just confessed to murder.

“What?”

“You and Dom, aren’t you sweet boyfriends,” Gina teased, her voice full of mischief.

“We’re not, Gin.”

“Looks like it,” Paul added with a wink.

I shook my head. It had been months, and they still teased us like this.

To be fair, Dominic was charming, built like someone who could carry a sack of rice in each hand without breaking a sweat, yet patient enough to knead dough for hours.

We went to the gym together on weekends, though he was far more disciplined than me. He was a good man. The kind who opened doors and asked how your day was, and meant it.

But I couldn’t imagine him as anything more. Not yet.

The wounds Damien left me were still raw, bleeding under the surface. I couldn’t force myself to love someone I didn’t love. That would be cruel.

“I’ll drive you home. Looks like it’s going to rain,” Dom said later, pulling up in front of me as I waited for the bus.

“I’ll just wait for the bus, Dom.”

“Come on, Kyle. I’m heading that way anyway.”

I didn’t argue. I got in, the smell of his cologne filling the car.

“You have plans tomorrow? Friday night?”

“No. Why?”

“My friend’s birthday party. They said to bring a plus one. I don’t have one. Was wondering if you’d come with me,” he said, eyes on the road.

“Sure. I don’t have much to do anyway.”

“O-okay. Thanks.”

He dropped me off in front of my building. Later, as I was getting ready for bed, my phone buzzed.

Baker King:

Wear a polo shirt to work so you don’t have to change. Thanks for saying yes :)

Me:

No worries. Take this as payment for the baked goods.

Baker King:

Hope you’ll say yes too when I propose 😜

I frowned.

Me:

Propose what?

No reply.

Me:

Proposal for the upcoming business plan?

Still nothing. I guessed he fell asleep. I was about to put my phone down when it lit up again.

Baker King:

Slow.

The word lingered in my mind long after the screen went dark. Slow. Like he was telling me not to rush. Like he understood that I wasn’t ready yet.

But in the silence of my small room, I realized something else. I wasn’t just moving slow. I was standing still.

---

“Kyle, come here.”

Damien’s voice was commanding yet warm. He pulled me in without hesitation. I stepped into his arms, snuggling against him. He wrapped me so tightly I could barely breathe.

“You’re going to squeeze me, Mr. Silviero,” I laughed softly, trying to pull away. But he only held me tighter.

“I just need to make sure you’re not going away again,” he murmured, his tone trembling with something I’d never heard before. “Don’t leave me, Kyle. Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”

His voice was low but soft, each word brushing against my heart like the gentlest feather. I smiled, burying my face against his chest, breathing him in.

“I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here, Damien.”

“I love you, Kyle. I love you so much,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear before they found mine, soft, lingering, full of a tenderness I’d almost forgotten he could have.

I kissed him back, sinking into the warmth, the safety, the impossible sweetness…

Until I jolted awake.

My chest heaved, drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around me. My heart pounded like it was trying to break free.

It was just a dream. But dreams are cruel when they feel more real than the life you wake up to.

Even after everything Damien did to me, every wound, every scar, I still dream of him.

And in those dreams, I still love him.

Chapter 25 - The Dare

Kyle’s POV

“Can I help out?” I asked, leaning on the counter where Dom was already busy shaping croissants for the whole office. The buttery smell filled the air, warm and comforting.

“Are you sure?” he asked, pausing to glance at me with that damn smirk.

“Why are you making that face? You think I don’t know how to bake?”

“I don’t think,” he said, deadpan. “I know you don’t.”

I tried to glare, but ended up laughing. “Okay, fair. But there’s nothing I can’t learn, Mr. Baker. Now, what do you want me to do?”

He rolled his eyes like he was indulging a child. “Fine. Go wash your hands.”

I obeyed, then returned, rubbing my damp palms together like I was preparing for surgery. “So, what now?”

“Knead it like this,” he said, showing me the motion slowly, palms pressing, folding, turning. His movements were steady, precise.

I tried to mimic him, but the dough resisted me, sticking to my fingers like it knew I was a fraud.

By the time lunch break was almost over, I’d made my first croissant. Well… “croissant” was a generous term. It looked like something you’d throw at a burglar.

“Fuck, sorry, but it tastes like shit,” Dom said after taking a brave bite. He still chewed it, though, as if forcing himself to appreciate the effort.

I burst out laughing at the pained look on his face. I took a bite and, “Damn, how’d you even swallow that?”

I spat it out. I couldn’t even describe the taste.

“You made it,” he said with mock sincerity. “Though it tasted awful.”

I scooped a handful of flour from the bowl and flung it at his face. The cloud hit him perfectly, dusting his dark hair white.

“Oh, it’s war now?” He grinned, reaching for his own handful.

“Shit, it got into my eye!” he yelled when I tossed another light puff his way.

“Sorry! Hold still-” I stepped forward to check on him, only for him to launch a full handful straight at my face. I gasped, instantly inhaling half of it.

I coughed, eyes watering, voice rasping. “You cough absolute cough jerk!”

By now, the counter was a mess. Flour covered everything, our shirts, the floor, our hair. Somewhere in the chaos, I realized I hadn’t laughed this freely in a long time.

Not since before Damien.

The thought flickered, uninvited, but I pushed it down, choosing to focus on Dom’s ridiculous grin instead.

“What did you two lovers do?” Gina nearly screamed when she saw the flour-covered battlefield that used to be our office kitchen.

Dom, already cleaned up and leaning casually on the counter, pointed straight at me.

“It was his doing, Gin. He made croissants that tasted like shit.” Then he laughed again, like the memory alone was comedy gold.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork and playful side-eyes from our coworkers. When the clock finally ticked out early, I thought about changing my shirt at my apartment.

“Dom, I need to change. Look what you did to my shirt, asshole,” I said, lifting the flour-stained fabric.

“Don’t bother. I’ll lend you mine. I also need to pick up my present, so you’re coming with me.”

I hesitated. “Okay… thanks.”

Flour crumbs dusted the leather seats of his car, but he just shrugged when I pointed it out.

“Adds character,” he said.

My jaw went slack when we stepped into his apartment. It was modern, open, and tastefully decorated. Nothing like my cramped little place.

“My place is trash compared to this,” I admitted.

“Move in with me. Let’s split the rent. Bet?”

“Nah, I like my own little room… like Harry Potter’s.”

“Too bad, I want a roommate.” He tossed me a towel and pushed me toward the bathroom. “Here, shower. You smell like a bakery dumpster.”

I took a quick bath, the warm water rinsing away the flour and the lingering scent of croissants that gone wrong.

Slipping into his polo shirt, I noticed how oversized it was, soft fabric, faintly carrying his cologne.

Dom had already changed. His shirt clung to his shoulders, his build almost unfair. Yeah, I worked out. I had abs. But standing next to him, I looked… normal.

We grabbed the cake and headed to the party.

It was chaos from the start, pool shimmering under colorful lights, music vibrating in my bones, drinks flowing, people dancing without a care.

Not really my scene, but there was something about the energy… like it could drown out thoughts I didn’t want to have.

“Happy birthday, Megan,” Dom greeted a petite blonde, kissing her cheek.

“Hi,” I added, offering my hand.

She looked me over with a grin. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.”

“And you’re handsome,” she replied without missing a beat. “Are you single?”

“I am.”

“Good,” she winked before Dom smirked at her. I couldn’t read the look they exchanged, so I let it go.

The night rolled on. A few guys tossed each other into the pool while the DJ turned the air electric. Dom eventually plopped down beside me, beer in hand, cheeks flushed.

“Your friends are pretty hardcore,” I said, leaning in so he could hear me.

“Yeah. I saved up all my social battery for this. They’re wild.” He chugged the rest of his drink.

“You better not get wasted tonight or I’ll dump you somewhere far.”

He grinned, dimples deep. “I don’t mind, as long as you’re with me.”

Then came the games. Risky games. Truth or Dare, with a crowd hungry for drama.

“Dare!” Chris shouted.

“I dare you to swim butt-naked!” Trisha yelled.

Everyone roared with laughter as Chris stripped and dove into the pool.

Then it was Dom’s turn. Twelve spins and the bottle finally stopped on him.

“Dare,” he said.

Megan’s eyes gleamed. “I dare you to kiss the person you like in this circle. For five seconds.”

The group erupted in cheers. I even heard a few hopeful murmurs, people who clearly wouldn’t mind being kissed by Dom.

He scanned the circle. I waited, half-expecting him to stand and cross over to someone else.

Instead, he turned to me.

And kissed me.

“5!”

The circle counted down as the world narrowed to the press of his lips against mine, warm, firm, lingering.

“4!”

I froze, mind blank.

“3!”

The heat of the crowd faded.

“2!”

I could feel his breath, his steady hold.

“1!”

He pulled away, leaving me blinking like I’d been caught in a storm.

I didn’t speak. Neither did he, not for the rest of the party.

When it was over, he was swaying slightly.

“Dom, hand me your keys. I’ll drive. You’re deadass drunk.”

He didn’t argue. For fifteen minutes, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the thud of bass still ringing in my ears.

“Were you surprised I kissed you?” he asked suddenly, eyes glassy.

“Yeah. I didn’t know you liked me until now.”

“You’re the only one who didn’t know,” he said, smiling bitterly.

I exhaled slowly, unsure what to say.

“Don’t you wanna try it with me, Kyle?”

His question cut through the quiet.

“I’m not ready, Dom. My past… I still haven’t healed.”

“Damien. Still him?”

My hands tightened on the wheel. “How did you-”

“It’s been almost a year. You haven’t moved on from him. You must have really loved him. How can I compete…”

Another sigh left me. He turned toward the window, shutting himself off.

When we reached his apartment, I walked him inside, sat him on the couch, made sure he was okay.

I was about to leave when his voice stopped me cold.

“You built your walls so high, even you couldn’t get out.”

Chapter 26 - A Little Lighter

Kyle’s POV

Dom didn’t bake anything for a whole week.

No warm scent drifting from the kitchen. No flour on his shirt. No random hums while he worked. He just buried himself in tasks, shoulders tense, eyes focused on spreadsheets instead of people.

He barely spoke unless it was about work.

Everyone noticed. The shift in him was loud even in the silence. They didn’t ask me why, because they didn’t need to. We all knew.

The atmosphere in the office turned heavy. Conversations were clipped, footsteps lighter than usual,  like one wrong move might break him further.

I told myself not to feel guilty. But I did. Maybe he felt rejected. Maybe my silence the other night confirmed what he already feared.

I’ve been there before. Not chosen, just… set aside. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Still, I wouldn’t give him false hope. That kind of slow-kill is worse.

I promised myself I’d never be like Damien. Using people as a distraction, as a way to fill the hollow. I learned the hard way what that does to a person.

So I kept working.

I focused on our proposal. A business plan for the next project, one that could actually help the farmers who relied on our small cooperative.

Funds were limited, so every detail mattered. The budget request had to be airtight if we wanted to buy the equipment they needed.

By 9 p.m., the office was dark except for the pool of light over my desk. My back ached, my fingers cramped from typing, but I was determined to finish my draft tonight.

That’s when it hit me, a warm, fragrant smell.

Freshly baked bread.

My chest tightened, but in a good way.

I followed the scent like a trail, past the empty hall, to the kitchen. And there he was, Dom. Standing at the counter, pulling a tray from the oven. His hair was a little messy, his face caught in the soft golden light.

The “Baker King” was back.

He looked at me, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Want one? I baked a dozen,” he said casually, leaning against the sink.

That’s when I noticed  he was shirtless. His polo must’ve been tossed somewhere to avoid getting flour on it.

I grinned, biting into the warm bread. “Nice abs.”

“Could kill women in a glance,” he smirked.

“Even men would drool.”

His brow lifted. “Even you?”

“Nah, I have those too.” I lifted my shirt in mock display.

“Bro, no. You’re skinny. Might as well hit the gym with me.”

“Fine, muscle man. Saturday?”

“Sure.”

We ended up leaving together. He offered me a ride home, and I let him in when we got there.

He stepped inside, scanning the place with a raised brow. “Move in with me. How can you even fit here?”

“Like this,” I said, throwing myself onto the bed.

He laughed, but then his tone shifted. “Seriously, Kyle. You can find a better paying job. You have the skills. You’d do big things.”

“Nah. I’m fine where I am.”

“Too bad. I want you to go far… because you broke my heart.”

I sat up, startled, and then he burst out laughing.

“Damn, you should’ve seen your face!“ he laughed again. Then he continued,

“It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same. I’ve been thinking about telling you for a while. The liquor just pushed me over the edge that night. Sorry if I made it awkward.” he lowered his head.

I smiled faintly. “It’s alright, Dom. You’re right, my walls are too high. Even I can’t get out of them. But… maybe I’ll learn to break them one by one.”

Silence followed, but it wasn’t the kind that hurt. It was the kind that lets you breathe. The kind where both people finally know where they stand.

He left not long after, and that night, I slept better than I had in weeks.

The morning after, everything felt… normal again.

I woke up without the heavy knot in my chest. I actually slept well. And for once, just existing felt enough.

Dom was back to baking, and the whole office couldn’t be happier about it. The scent of warm bread filled the hall, and the atmosphere that had been so tense the past week finally lightened.

People laughed a little louder. Smiles weren’t so careful anymore.

On top of that, an email pinged in my inbox, our proposal had been approved. My grin stretched ear to ear.

“You look happy,” Gina said, passing by my desk with her coffee.

“I am. The proposal got approved.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Kyle, congrats!”

“Thanks.” I chuckled. “Now I have to work it out today so I can submit the full business plan for the presentation.”

“You’re too dedicated,” she sighed dramatically. “I wish I had that kind of drive.”

“I have to, Gina. Or else we’ll run out of flour and fruits.” I pointed toward the kitchen. “Then there’ll be no more pastries for us.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh no, we can’t have that. Okay, okay, work hard, hero. Do it for the bread!”

I laughed, shaking my head, and went back to typing.

The day went smoothly. I drafted the skeleton of my presentation, pieced together the slides, and scribbled notes for my script. There was still polishing to do, but I was ahead of schedule.

By the time Saturday came, I was at the gym with Dom, something I instantly regretted.

“Two miles more! Come on, you got this!” he shouted over the sound of my sneakers dragging on the treadmill.

“I’m. Gonna. Die!” I wheezed. My legs felt like noodles, my lungs like fire. But my pride wouldn’t let me give up, not while he was smirking at me from the next machine.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said smugly, sprinting like it was nothing.

Sunday came, and I hated him. I couldn’t even stand for five seconds without my thighs screaming betrayal.

“Damn you, Dominic,” I texted him.

He showed up at my door by lunch. The moment I told him I couldn’t walk, he laughed so hard I considered crawling just to kick him.

“Weak as fuck,” he said, still grinning.

“Are you planning to kill me?” I snapped.

“Relax, you’ll live. Maybe.” He laughed again. Was I a joke to this man?

Good for him he came bearing pizza, or I’d really have thrown him out.

“Call in sick tomorrow, weak ass,” he teased, handing me a slice.

“How about you call in sick after I smack your face—”

“Shhh. Weaklings don’t get to say anything. Just rest like a princess that you are.”

He ducked as I hurled a pillow at him, catching it with one hand like a smug bastard.

“I’ll cook you real food so you won’t have to crawl around, princess,” he added with a wink.

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Asshole.”

While he started fussing in the kitchen, I opened my laptop and pulled up some research.

If things went well, I could schedule the presentation tomorrow, depending on the availability of the funding reps.

The smell of garlic and butter drifted out, making my stomach growl instantly.

“Food’s ready,” Dom announced proudly, setting the plates on my table. “I’m going now. Eat, princess.”

I shook my head, laughing. “Thanks, jerk.”

It was nice to have a friend. Sometimes.

Chapter 27 - Second Time

(Email notification)

Subject: Confirmation of Presentation Funding Proposal Details: [Tomorrow, 9:00 A.M. | Central Finance Tower | Boardroom 6B]

Fuck. Tomorrow.

I almost jumped out of my chair when I read it. After weeks of preparing, it was finally happening. My heart raced, my hands shook, not from fear, but from raw excitement.

Alright. This is it. I need to be ready. I’m going to nail this.

“Dom,” I called from the kitchen, still staring at my phone.

“What?” he answered with his mouth full of bread.

“You’re coming with me tomorrow.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“For my presentation.”

His eyes widened, then a grin spread across his face.

“You serious? Damn, I knew you’d get it! I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

The news spread fast. My coworkers congratulated me, though part of me thought it was too soon. Still, their faith gave me courage.

That night, I treated tomorrow like battle. I picked out my best suit, ironed it until there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. I checked every cable, every file, every copy of the proposal I printed.

My laptop was fully charged, my backups saved in three different places.

By morning, I was ready.

Dom drove me downtown. When we arrived at the towering glass building, he parked and gave me one last once-over.

“You got this. Do it for the pastries,” he said, tugging at my tie like an older brother. Then he pinched my nose.

I smacked at him, but he ducked away, laughing.

“Wish me luck. If I pull this off, buffet’s on me.”

“You better. Go.”

I stepped into the boardroom early, set up the large screen, tested the HDMI connection twice, then once more for good measure. My chest pounded, but I forced myself to breathe.

“This is it,” I whispered to myself.

The door opened.

Four men walked in, all in tailored suits, polished and sharp. They carried the kind of aura that said money, experience, and power. I couldn’t tell which one I needed to convince, so I assumed, all of them.

They sat side by side, leaving the center chair empty, like it was reserved for judgment itself.

“You may start,” said the one nearest to me, his voice even, expression unreadable.

I nodded, adjusted my tie, and clicked the remote. The first slide lit up on the screen.

“Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Kyle Reyes, representing our cooperative. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to present our proposal.”

I clicked to the next slide, a photo of local farmers in the field, their worn tools in hand.

“Our cooperative is small, but deeply rooted in the agricultural needs of our community. We are requesting funding to acquire modern farming equipment. Tractors, water pumps, and storage units. Tools that will not only increase efficiency but also secure a stable livelihood for our farmers.”

I moved to the financial breakdown.

“We are asking for $100,000. This will not be a grant, but a loan. The cooperative will repay in installments with an agreed interest rate. Based on our projected growth, we can fully repay within three years.”

I pointed to the next chart.

“This is our current income stream. As you can see, our produce sales cover operational costs but leave little room for expansion. With upgraded equipment, productivity will rise by at least 40%, giving us the surplus needed to cover loan repayments comfortably.”

The men remained stone-faced, but they were listening.

“Beyond numbers, gentlemen, this project will impact real lives. Farmers who currently struggle with outdated tools will have a chance to thrive, not just survive. Their output will grow, their families will benefit, and the cooperative will stand stronger.”

I clicked to the final slide, then stepped back. “That concludes the proposal. I’ll be happy to take your questions.”

The man second from the left adjusted his glasses. “What’s your risk management plan if market prices for produce drop unexpectedly?”

I nodded, already expecting it. “We’ve drafted a diversification strategy. By expanding to value-added products, jams, dried fruits, even bread through our cooperative’s bakery, we’ll create additional revenue streams. This reduces dependency on raw produce pricing.”

The third man leaned forward. “And what about default? If your members fail to pay their shares?”

“We’ve implemented a strict savings program for all members. Each contributes to an emergency fund separate from loan repayments. This ensures a safety net in case of natural disasters or poor yield.” I answered.

The first man finally spoke again, voice steady. “Your confidence is admirable. But why should we trust you to lead this?”

The question stung, but I smiled faintly. “Because this isn’t just a project for me. I grew up in that community. I know the farmers by name. This proposal isn’t numbers on a spreadsheet, it’s their lives, their children’s future. I will not allow it to fail, because failure would mean failing them.”

The room went quiet for a beat. Then the man closest to me nodded, scribbling something on his folder.

“Thank you, Mr. Reyes.”

I exhaled quietly, steadying my hands on the remote.

This was it.

I thought I would finally get to breathe, to relax, to stretch.

The room was already heavy with tension, but when the door opened again, my lungs forgot how to work.

A tall, confident man walked in. Dark grey suit. Smooth stride. A face burned into my memory no matter how hard I tried to erase it.

My heart stopped. Damien.

The man who once made me feel small. The one I swore I’d forget, but never really could.

“Mr. Silviero,” the men greeted, rising slightly, almost bowing. He nodded, then sat at the empty center chair, the one they’d saved.

My throat went dry. My body froze, but my eyes, my eyes betrayed me, locking onto him. I tried to look away, but his gaze pinned me in place, lingering and unrelenting.

“Mr. Reyes,” one of the funders cleared his throat, “could you run through the proposal again? Mr. Silviero would like to hear it personally.”

Lag. Buffer. Error 404. That’s what my brain felt like. I swallowed hard, clicked back to the opening slide, and forced myself to speak.

At first, I wanted to walk away. But I can’t. Not right now. I’m not doing this for myself. There are people relying to me. I can’t back down now. Even when it costs me so much.

“Good… good morning again,” I stammered, my voice cracking before I steadied it. “Our cooperative is requesting $100,000 thousand in funding to purchase essential farming equipment. This will increase yield and ensure repayment within three years—”

I tried not to look at him. God, I tried. But every time my eyes slipped from the screen, I felt his stare drilling into me.

“…uh, the loan will be repaid with interest, through increased production and additional value-added goods like, like bread and preserved fruit.” My tongue tripped over the words. I cleared my throat, desperate to sound composed.

When I finally finished, silence pressed into me. Then Damien leaned back in his chair, confident as ever, and spoke.

“I’ll do it.” His voice was deep, certain. “I’ll double your asking amount. Two hundred. Five years to pay. Lower interest.”

The other men glanced at each other in surprise.

“Thank you, sir,” I managed, my words trembling more than I wanted.

Damien wasn’t finished. His dark eyes locked onto mine. “But I have one request.”

My stomach dropped. “…Yes?”

“You will report directly to me. Twice a month. I want to see how the numbers are working.”

My eyes widened. Heat crawled up my neck. Seriously? Out of all people…

“I—I can send someone every two weeks with a report—”

“I want you, Mr. Reyes,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “It’s your proposal. It’ll be better if you report directly. Do this, and I’ll sign right away.”

Polite applause filled the room as the men clapped at his “generosity.” But Damien didn’t join them. He just kept looking at me, dark, intense, unreadable.

I shook hands mechanically. “Congratulations, Mr. Reyes,” one of the funders said.

“Thank you,” I muttered, hoping no one noticed how ice-cold my palms were.

I rushed out into the hallway, air finally rushing into my lungs. My chest was tight, my thoughts scrambled.

I stumbled into the restroom, splashed cold water on my face, tried to breathe.

And then he came in.

The door clicked shut. His tall frame filled the space, his shoulders wide enough to block escape.

“Excuse me, Mr. Silviero—” I started, keeping my voice professional.

But his hand caught my arm, firm, familiar. “Still running from me?”

The world tilted. I stiffened. I didn’t answer.

“Sir, let me go,” I ordered, my voice sharp.

“No,” he said softly, dangerously. “I already did once. I’m not doing it again.”

He turned me to face him. My breath caught. He was even more handsome than before, sharper, darker. His perfume, the same one. One inhale and I was thrown back years.

“Damien, let go of me.” My voice shook, but it wasn’t a plea. It was a command.

In one swift move, he pulled me against him. My chest collided with his, his arms crushing me in an embrace that felt like shackles.

“Stop running from me, Kyle.” His voice cracked, low and raw against my ear. “Don’t kill me for the second time. Please.”

Chapter 28 - Cracked

Kyle’s POV

I tried to push him with whatever strength I had left, and by some miracle, I slipped out of his grip. My chest heaved like I’d just run a marathon, like being held by him drained every ounce of oxygen from my lungs.

“You still act like you own me. And now,” my voice cracked, but I forced it steady, “I hate you even more.”

His eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing there.

“You still don’t know how to listen.”

The audacity. I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “What? Look who’s talking now. As if you ever heard me before. You’re still the same selfish man you were back then. Nothing’s changed. I’m disappointed, Damien. Really.”

If he thought I’d fall apart, if he thought I’d run back like before, hell no.

He lowered his head slightly, but his eyes never left mine. And I didn’t blink. I refused to.

“Kyle—what’s going on here?” Dominic’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Relief washed over me, even if just a little. I took a quick step and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, Dom.”

My lungs burned the moment we left that suffocating room. It felt like I had to manually remind myself to breathe, like my body forgot how to function after facing Damien again.

“Kyle, are you okay?” Dominic’s voice was soft, concerned.

“No.” I coughed, almost choking on my own answer.

His hand tapped my back, grounding me. “Damien showed up, huh.” His tone was sharp, bitter.

The car ride home was thick with silence, the kind that swallows words before they’re born. My reflection in the window looked pale, hollow.

Then Dominic broke the quiet. “You still feel the same about him?”

I clenched my jaw. My heart wanted to scream yes, but my pride shoved the word back down.

“I don’t know, Dom. The last thing I want is to see him.”

He didn’t buy it. I saw it in the way he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“Is that really the last thing you want?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, pressing my fingers to my temples. “My head’s… hurting.”

That shut him up. He didn’t push again. He just dropped me off like he knew I couldn’t take another question.

But when I stepped inside my apartment, the silence was worse. My head was empty but full at the same time, empty of clarity, full of memories.

The migraine hit like a punishment. I spent the night tossing and turning, the pulse in my skull refusing to let me rest.

Each throb carried a flash of him, his voice, his grip, his eyes when he said I didn’t listen.

Saturday. I should’ve felt relief. Finally, a day to rest. But there was no rest. The migraine dulled, sure, but the ache in my chest didn’t.

After almost a year, I saw him again. Damien.

The man I loved. The man I begged for scraps of affection. The man I broke myself leaving.

And now he’s back.

Why? Why now, when I had finally learned to breathe without him? Why come back when all I wanted was to forget?

I pressed a pillow to my face, hoping the pressure would kill the storm in my head. But it only made it worse. Because in the dark, in the silence, it wasn’t the memory of him I feared.

It was the truth I could no longer hide from myself.

That no matter how much I hated him… a part of me still ached for him.

And that part, the part I’ve buried, drowned, killed over and over, came alive the second he looked at me again.

–

I buried myself in work like it was armor. If I stayed busy enough, maybe I wouldn’t think. Maybe I wouldn’t feel.

But deep down, I wasn’t fooling anyone, not even myself. The fear of next week gnawed at me, because next week meant facing Damien again.

And he kept his word. The funds we asked for were wired immediately, faster than I could process. Within days, the farmers reported progress, their productivity shooting up like never before.

Of course, it did. I always knew all they needed was proper support, and it would flourish.

But I didn’t expect that support to come from him. Damien Silviero, our funder.

The irony was cruel. The success I’d been fighting for was now tied to the one man I least wanted to see.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Dominic asked one morning, leaning against my desk. His voice was calm, but I caught the worry under it. “I mean, I don’t want you collapsing on the floor again the second you see him.”

I managed a weak smile.

“No, Dom. I can handle it this time. Please, let me.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. Still, he insisted on driving me to the meeting place. Maybe he knew I needed the silence of the car to gather whatever pieces of strength I had left.

When we arrived, my palms were already sweating. My heartbeat wouldn’t settle.

And then I saw him.

Damien was seated in the center chair of the long mahogany table, like he owned not just the room but the air I was breathing. Dark navy blue suit, perfectly cut to his frame. His hair slicked back and neat.

And then there were his eyes. Those piercing green eyes that tracked me the second I walked in, following me with an intensity that pinned me down.

I sat on the chair near him, refusing to let my knees buckle.

“You’re late,” he said softly, but there was no bite in his tone. Just… observation.

“Traffic,” I answered shortly. My voice came out steadier than I felt.

He studied me in silence, the corner of his lip twitching like he was holding back something, anger, a smirk, I couldn’t tell.

“You look tired,” he finally said. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It was once.” His reply was immediate, sharp.

I clenched my fists under the table. “We’re not here for this, Damien. This is business. Nothing more.”

“Business,” he repeated, rolling the word on his tongue like it tasted foreign. His gaze softened, though his body stayed perfectly composed. “And yet you’re trembling.”

My chest tightened. Damn him. He noticed everything. Always.

“I’m not trembling.”

“You are.” His voice dropped, low and cutting. “The same way you did the first time I touched you. Only now, it’s fear.”

I looked away, staring at the glass of water in front of me like it could save me from drowning. “Stop it. Just… stop.”

Damien leaned slightly forward, enough for me to catch the faintest trace of his cologne, dark, rich, maddeningly familiar.

“You can’t keep running from me, Kyle. Not when we’re bound like this. The project. The funding. The people who depend on it.”

My throat tightened. He was right, and I hated him more for it.

I forced myself to meet his gaze, even as it felt like my chest was caving in. “You don’t own me anymore, Damien. Remember that. Whatever ties we have now… it’s temporary. Just business. And the second this project is over, so are we.”

For a second, his mask cracked. His eyes flicked with something raw, pain, regret, anger. I still couldn’t tell.

But then he smirked. Coldly and so infuriating. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 29 - Haunted

Kyle’s POV

Damien smirked, and I wanted to wipe it off his face. “We’ll see about that,” he said, like it was already written.

The nerve of this man.

I leaned forward, forcing myself to match his energy.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just a funder, Damien. Not a savior. And definitely not the man you used to be to me.”

Something in his eyes shifted but he hid it fast. He always did.

“Funny. You talk like you’ve erased me completely. And yet,” He tilted his head, studying me like prey. “…the way your voice shakes says otherwise.”

My nails dug into my palm under the table.

“You’re imagining things.”

He chuckled low, leaning closer, invading my space without even touching me.

“No, Kyle. I don’t imagine when it comes to you. I remember.” His words were slow, deliberate, cruel. “Every tremor. Every sigh. Every time you said my name like it was the only word you knew.”

My breath hitched, and I hated myself for it.

I forced my chair back an inch, putting space between us.

“Don’t you dare bring that up. Whatever we had, it’s dead. You killed it. So stop digging up corpses.”

Damien’s jaw tightened, his smirk faltering. For the first time in a long time, he looked… human.

But he recovered quickly, straightening his tie, regaining control.

“If it’s truly dead, then why does it haunt you?”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Because you’re the kind of ghost that refuses to stay buried.”

Silence stretched, thick, dangerous. His green eyes locked onto mine, unblinking.

Then he leaned in again, so close I could feel his breath skim my cheek.

“Then let me haunt you, Kyle. Better me than anyone else.”

I froze, every instinct screaming at me to shove him away, to walk out, to burn every bridge. But my body… my body remembered.

I turned my face just enough to meet his gaze head-on, even if my pulse betrayed me.

“You don’t get to haunt me on your terms anymore. If you think money buys that right back, you’re wrong.”

Damien’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but he stopped. He swallowed hard, then leaned back in his chair, mask sliding over him again. Cold. Distant. Dangerous.

“Careful, Kyle,” he murmured. “You’re walking a thin line between business and everything else we were.”

I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Then I’ll make it simple.” I grabbed my folder off the table, clutching it like a shield. “From now on, we talk numbers. Nothing more.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. His eyes burned into me, but I didn’t flinch.

I couldn’t, not when my heart was already breaking under the weight of just being near him.

Finally, I turned on my shoe and walked out before I collapsed.

But even outside, even with the door closed behind me, his voice echoed in my skull.

Better me than anyone else.

And God help me… part of me believed him.

By the time I got home, my whole body felt like stone. Heavy and unmovable.

The silence of my room should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. It was suffocating.

Every corner, every shadow seemed to echo with his voice, his words still clawing at me.

Then let me haunt you, Kyle.

I ripped off my blazer and threw it on the floor, the sound sharper than I intended.

My chest rose and fell like I’d been holding my breath since the meeting. Maybe I had.

I sat on the edge of my bed, palms pressed against my face. My hands were shaking. My whole body was.

Damn him.

I should be stronger by now. I should be over this. It’s been almost a year, I’ve built myself back piece by piece, buried myself in work, fought like hell to move forward.

And yet the second he looks at me, the second he says my name, all of it crumbles.

“You don’t fucking own me anymore,” I whispered to the dark, repeating the words I’d said to him earlier. Trying to convince myself. But the truth was uglier, heavier.

Because even if he didn’t own me… I was still carrying him.

I laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling until my vision blurred. Every detail of him replayed in my mind, the slick hair, the way his suit hugged his frame, the control in his voice.

But worse were the cracks. The moments where his mask faltered. The way his jaw tightened when I told him what we had was dead. The way his eyes flickered when I said he disappointed me.

Did it hurt him? Did he even feel anything? Or was it all just another performance?

I pressed my fists against my eyes, trying to block it all out, but it only made the memories sharper.

Flashes. His hand on the back of my neck. His lips dragging against mine in the dark. The weight of him, the heat of his breath when he whispered promises I was stupid enough to believe.

And then the fights. The loneliness. The begging for his time, his affection. The way I was always the one reaching, while he stood still.

I choked out a laugh that turned into something closer to a sob.

“I hate you,” I whispered to the ceiling. My voice cracked. “I hate you so much.”

But the tears that burned my eyes betrayed me.

I turned to my side, curling up, clutching the pillow like it could keep me from falling apart. But nothing stopped it. The tears came, hot and angry, soaking into the fabric.

I hadn’t cried for him in months. I swore I never would again. But tonight, alone, the dam broke.

And I hated myself more than I hated him.

Because behind every curse, behind every bitter thought, there was still that ache. That raw, stupid ache that wanted him anyway.

I pressed my forehead against the pillow, muffling the sob that tore out of me.

“Why’d you have to come back?”

No answer. Just silence. Just the steady pulse of my migraine returning, syncing with the rhythm of my broken heart.

Hours passed, but sleep never came. I stared at the faint outline of the window, watching as the night bled into dawn. My eyes burned, my chest ached, and I felt hollow.

Work was waiting for me. Responsibilities. People depending on me. And I’d put on the mask again, because I always do.

But here, in the privacy of my room, the truth suffocated me.

I wasn’t over him. Not even close.

And the worst part?

I didn’t know if I ever would be.

---

I feel bad for Kyle, really. But anyway, thank you for reading.

Chapter 30 - Weight of Almost

My brows furrowed when I noticed the crowd near the gate. Farmers were gathered, laughing, snacking, the atmosphere light and warm.

So different from the usual hum of exhaustion after long hours in the field.

“What’s happening, Gina?” I asked, still carrying the dust of the morning trip on my shoes.

I had been out checking our fertilizer purchases, and this was not what I expected to return to.

“We’re having a small break. Come, eat.” Gina smiled, handing me a cookie. “Too bad Mr. Baker wasn’t here. He would’ve loved this.”

Her eyes sparkled in a way that made me suspicious.

“Gina, what’s going on?”

And then I saw him.

That motherfucker. Damien.

He was walking toward us like he belonged here, like he’d always belonged. My gut twisted.

I caught Gina giggling under her breath, her cheeks pink like a schoolgirl caught staring at her crush.

Damien gave her the faintest nod, and she bolted away, smiling to herself like she’d just been hypnotized.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice clipped, rehearsed into indifference.

“Visiting.” His tone was calm, almost disarming.

“Visiting who?”

“I just want to take a look at your operations.”

I scoffed. “Are my reports not enough, Mr. Silviero? I gave you everything you asked for. You don’t need to come here.”

“That’s cold,” he replied, faint amusement curling in his voice. “All I wanted was to help.”

I glared at him. “No. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know this is one of your little selfish games. You may go now.” I turned to leave, but his hand closed around my arm.

“I want to see the farmers work. After they eat, I asked one of them to take me to the cornfield that’s being harvested.”

I froze, then pulled back. “What? That’s not my job to babysit you.”

“You don’t have empathy, then. You don’t even know how hard they work for your produce.”

The words sliced through me like a blade. My jaw clenched, my hand instinctively massaging the back of my neck.

“You arrogant jerk,” I muttered. Then louder: “Aren’t you busy? Always signing papers, attending your fancy events? Why don’t you do that now?”

“I’m not sure about my schedule. It’s not as tight as before.” He tilted his head, those green eyes locking on me. “Maybe if you came back to work for me again, I’d be well aware—”

“Shut it.” My voice cracked, sharp as a whip. “I’ll meet you there. You may go now.”

I stormed back to my desk, leaving him there. My hands trembled as I forced myself to drown in paperwork, my only escape.

Through the window, I caught a glimpse of him standing among the farmers, speaking to them, listening to them. Smiling. Why the hell was he doing this?

Then, for a fleeting second, he glanced up. Our eyes might’ve met. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know.

I buried myself in reports until time slipped away. When I finally checked the clock, it was already past six.

Wait.

Damn it. Damien!

I cursed under my breath. But I thought, he was probably gone. He was never the type to wait, everything was always on his terms.

Emilio, driving the tractor back into the lot, stopped me. “Sir, the boss was still there. He wouldn’t leave. I think… he was waiting for you.”

I froze, my heart stuttering in my chest.

What the fuck? He didn’t leave?

Emilio offered me a ride to his plot. Still in my office clothes, I climbed onto the tractor. The hum of the engine couldn’t quiet my racing thoughts.

And then I saw him.

Damien Silviero. Not in his suit, not in polished leather shoes. In farming clothes, dirt smudged across his forearms, a shovel gripped in his hands.

He looked up when I approached, his expression unreadable.

“Thought you would leave me here waiting.”

That wasn’t what I expected. I thought he’d scold me, mock me for being late, for avoiding him. But his voice was softer. Tired, almost.

“The sun’s down. You should go,” I said, my voice brittle.

“Can we talk first?”

“About what? As you can see, our farmers—”

“Not about that.”

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. “I told you, Damien. Other than business, I won’t talk about anything else.”

He just stood there, shovel in hand, his chest rising and falling in the dusky light. And then he said my name.

“Kyle.”

It was quiet. Soft. Like a prayer whispered in a chapel.

My breath caught.

For a second, I thought I was imagining it, the yearning in his tone, the rawness that didn’t belong to the Damien I knew.

The Damien I remembered was steel, untouchable, unbending. But here he was, saying my name like it meant something.

“Damien, don’t.” My voice shook, and I hated it. “Don’t complicate things anymore.”

Because after everything he put me through, I couldn’t believe he was trying again. He didn’t know how badly he broke me. How discarded I felt, useful when needed, thrown aside when not.

And yet here he was. Standing in the dirt. Waiting. Saying my name like he still had the right.

And damn it, a part of me still wanted to answer.

He took a step forward until he was standing right in front of me. I trembled slightly and looked away. I couldn’t handle the weight of his stare. It was too much for me. He was always too much.

He wiped his dirty hands on his shirt until the mud was gone, though the faint smudges still clung to the fabric.

Then, without hesitation, he reached for my face, his calloused fingers grazing my skin, forcing me to look up at him.

I froze. His touch wasn’t rough, wasn’t demanding, it was careful, almost reverent, as though he was afraid I might disappear if he held me too tightly.

He examined me. He looked, really looked as if memorizing every detail of me that he thought he’d lost. His eyes roamed from my forehead, to the curve of my nose, to the trembling shape of my lips.

I swallowed hard, the sound of it embarrassingly loud in the silence between us.

“I missed you, Kyle,” he mumbled.

The words hit me harder than I expected. My heart raced so fast that I could hear it pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else.

All of my restraint, all of the walls I built, shattered in an instant. Emotions I fought so hard to bury came flooding back, rushing over me with unbearable force.

Before I knew it, my tears were falling. They slipped quietly down my cheeks, betraying me. I hadn’t even felt them forming.

The golden rays of the sunset slanted across my face, warm and blinding, until Damien’s shadow replaced the light. He was close now, closer than I could stand.

His breath brushed against my skin, uneven, shaky, like he wasn’t as composed as he wanted to seem.

His hand lingered on my cheek, his thumb catching a tear. The silence stretched, heavy and charged, until I swore the whole world stopped just to listen to the ragged rhythm of our breaths.

His eyes flicked down to my lips, then back to my eyes, as if asking permission without a single word. My chest ached, the anticipation winding tighter and tighter, pulling me apart piece by piece.

Hold it, Kyle. Fucking hold it!

Damien leaned in slowly, so slowly that it was torture. His forehead brushed mine, and I shut my eyes, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

The tip of his nose grazed mine, a ghost of a touch that sent shivers through me.

I gasped quietly, my lips parting, but he didn’t close the distance. Not yet. He hovered there, his breath mingling with mine, the heat of him overwhelming.

“Damien…”

Every second felt like forever. Every second made me want to break.

My fingers twitched at my sides, aching to reach for him, to pull him close, but I was afraid. Afraid that if I moved, the moment would shatter, and he’d be gone again.

“Kyle…” he whispered, my name breaking in his voice, low and rough, like he’d been carrying it on his tongue for too long.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. A sob escaped my throat, quiet and desperate.

And then, finally, his lips pressed against mine.

Chapter 31 - What If

I pushed him. With every ounce of strength left in me, I shoved him away, breaking the kiss that felt like a curse and a lifeline all at once.

My lips trembled, wet from him, wet from me.

“D-don’t touch me…” My voice cracked as I wiped furiously at my tears, like scrubbing away could erase the way he made me feel.

He reached for me again, hesitation flickering in his eyes, but I stumbled back, shaking my head violently.

“Kyle—”

“Don’t touch me ever again, Damien!”

My chest heaved, anger burning through every vein, but underneath it was something far more fragile. “I hate you! I hate you so fucking much, you selfish asshole! I hate you!”

The words ripped out of me like glass in my throat. And before I could see the way his face changed, or didn’t, I ran.

My legs carried me faster than I thought possible, briefcase clutched so tightly my knuckles turned white. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

But even as I fled, his touch clung to me. His scent lingered in my lungs. My lips still burned with the ghost of his.

My heart ached so viciously it was like I had swallowed knives. That feeling again.

That suffocating, intoxicating feeling of him, his lips on mine, his breath mixing with mine, his body pressing me into a corner like he owned me.

I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. I wanted to forget.

But I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t.

I hated myself more than I hated him. Because not once, not once in all these years had I truly forgotten. Not even close.

Every night I told myself I was free, but the moment he appeared, I realized the truth. That I was still shackled. Shackled to Damien Silviero.

That night, he didn’t leave me alone. He occupied every crevice of my mind, filling it with questions that bled into accusations.

Was he trying to torment me? Was this his revenge, to haunt me until I shattered?

Did he come back only to drag me down, to remind me of the shame I brought him when I walked away? His employees knew. They must have known. Did he want me humiliated?

Or was it worse? Was this because I dared to run? Because someone as little, as insignificant, as disposable as me had the audacity to walk out on Damien Silviero, and never look back?

I pressed my palms into my eyes, groaning. “I don’t fucking know!”

The walls of my apartment seemed to close in, every shadow whispering his name, every silence replaying his voice. I curled up on my bed, shaking, begging for oblivion.

I didn’t even ask for happiness anymore. I stopped believing in it years ago. All I ever wanted was a little less pain. Just enough quiet to breathe.

But even that was too much to ask for.

Because it never worked for us, and it never will. Even Damien knew that.

That’s why he was here, that’s why he touched me, because this is his game. To pull me close, make me believe in the illusion of warmth, and then destroy me when I’m too weak to run.

He doesn’t need to put a bullet in me. No. Damien kills me differently.

–

“You look like a mess. Did something happen?”

That was the very first thing Dominic said to me when he walked back into the office after his long leave. No hello, no I missed you, just a casual insult tossed like a dart. Typical Dom, but he cared.

I gave him a look, but he wasn’t wrong. My eyes were swollen, my hair a mess, and my whole body felt like it was stitched together with caffeine and regret. I looked like I’d crawled out of a grave.

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” I muttered. “I wish I actually was a zombie so my brain would just shut down. Then maybe I’d drag Damien into my apocalypse and make him one too.”

Dom snorted. “That bad, huh?”

“I just need another cup of coffee.”

Not long after, he reappeared with a steaming mug and placed it gently on my desk. “Here. Fresh. Black. Just like your soul.” He winked, then disappeared as quickly as he came.

I sighed and wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into my frozen fingers. My body begged for rest, at least a hundred hours of sleep.

At this rate, I’d collapse by the time I turned forty. What a way to go, not by heartbreak or illness, but by insomnia. I haven’t even traveled outside the country. What a pathetic obituary that would be.

By 7 p.m., Dom dragged me to the mall. He insisted I needed air and “a little fun,” though his version of fun was food. And he wasn’t wrong, my stomach was practically eating itself alive. He took me to a steakhouse nearby.

“Order anything. My treat,” he said, grinning like the cocky bastard he was.

My eyes lit up instantly. Free food. The holy grail. I opened the menu and, trying to be polite, ordered the cheapest steak.

But Dom didn’t even let the waiter finish writing it down before he overrode me with some fancy premium cut I couldn’t even pronounce.

“Dom, this is too much. I couldn’t even finish this big-ass meat,” I sighed.

He leaned closer, lips twitching with mischief. “How about you finish my meat instead?”

My fork almost slipped from my hand. “W-what?” My ears flamed red, and I stared at him, wide-eyed.

Dom burst out laughing so loud the other diners glanced at us. “Fuck, you look funny!”

I kicked his foot under the table. “You’re loud! Just eat!”

“You can try my meat if you want.” He winked again, savoring how flustered I was.

I glared at him, but my lips twitched despite myself. “You’re insufferable.”

“Memorable,” he corrected, cutting into his steak with exaggerated precision.

Then, without asking, he sliced off a piece and slid it onto my plate. He even scooped his vegetables onto mine, knowing damn well I’d ignore them.

“I’ve memorized you already,” he said casually, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.

Something in my chest softened. I smiled, a real one this time, not the forced kind I wore at work or the brittle one I threw at strangers.

Dominic was infuriating, playful, reckless, but also kind. Too kind.

And I hated myself for thinking, even for a second, what if.

If I could just tell my heart to fall for him, I would. God knows he deserved it, deserved someone who’d look at him and see everything. Someone who’d give him the love he offered so freely.

But me? I couldn’t. Because choosing Dom just because he stayed would be a lie.

A betrayal to him, and to myself. I wanted to choose someone I loved, not someone who was safe, not someone who was “good enough.”

And the cruel truth? My heart was already taken. Claimed by someone I swore I hated, someone who wrecked me over and over again, someone who didn’t deserve me at all.

Dominic was so much better. A hundred times better. And not once did I feel like I deserved him.

He deserves someone pure, someone untainted by the kind of love that ruins.

And I am not that. I will never be that.

I was mid-bite when I felt it. That strange prickling sensation on the back of my neck, like someone was watching me too closely, too intently. My fork paused halfway to my mouth.

I turned my head slowly, almost cautiously, and there he was.

Damien.

Why is he everywhere? I almost thought he was following me.

Sitting at a table directly across from us. The same sharp suit, the same cold, unreadable face, only now there was something different in his eyes. His eyes were locked on me.

Or maybe not just on me.

Because at that exact moment, Dom leaned forward with a napkin, laughing as he wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of my lips.

Innocent. Playful. Normal. But when Damien saw it, I swear I caught something flash in his eyes. A storm.

My stomach dropped.

And then, as if to punish myself further, my memory betrayed me, flashing back to that last time in the cornfield.

His hands, his lips, the overwhelming weight of him pressed against me, stealing my breath, stealing my will. I flinched, looking down at my plate.

I couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now.

So I forced myself to ignore him. To pretend Damien wasn’t sitting across the room, dissecting every move, every sound, every laugh.

I picked up my fork again and stuffed a piece of steak into my mouth. Chewing felt mechanical, but I made myself swallow, made myself look at Dom, not at Damien.

And Dom, God bless him, was effortlessly funny. His jokes were stupid, his expressions even worse, but I laughed.

“Say what.” he said.

“What?”

“Chicken butt.”

For a while, I actually laughed. The kind of laugh that left my chest a little lighter, like maybe I wasn’t completely broken.

Then we heard utensils clatter.

The sharp crash of utensils against the floor cut through our laughter. The sound came from Damien’s table.

My eyes darted instinctively in that direction, but before I could really see his face, he was already standing. A tall figure moving swiftly toward the exit.

Dom turned his head, brows furrowed. “What was that?”

“Someone dropped something,” I said too quickly, stabbing another piece of steak. “Forget it.”

Dom shrugged and went back to talking, oblivious, while my chest pounded like a drum.

I forced a smile. Forced myself not to think. If I gave Damien any more of my thoughts, my brain would combust right there in the steakhouse.

Besides… I had to see him tomorrow. Our meeting was scheduled, unavoidable.

And I didn’t even want to imagine what kind of Damien I was going to face then.

Chapter 32 - Goodnight

I received a text containing the details of the place. Also not the usual meeting room like before.

It was in his office.

In his fucking office, where I once worked. Where I laughed, cried, stayed late nights, and thought I was building something that mattered.

Back to the building I abandoned. Back to the place where I left my friends.

Fuck.

It was a five-hour drive just to get there, and I didn’t even have a car. My chest tightened with the thought of the long road ahead, but I dialed the number anyway.

The line rang once before a soft, professional voice answered.

“Good morning, Mr. Reyes. This is Mr. Silviero’s secretary. How may I help you?”

I swallowed, trying to sound casual but failing.

“Uh… yeah. About the meeting. I—I don’t have a car to get there. It’s five hours away, and I…” I trailed off, embarrassed, my throat suddenly dry.

There was a pause, then the secretary’s voice softened, almost kind.

“No worries, sir. I’ll arrange for someone to pick you up. Could you wait near a gas station close to your place?”

Relief washed over me, though my pride stung.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

“Someone will be there in about an hour,” she said gently, as if she understood the weight of what this trip meant for me.

I agreed, ended the call, and spent the next hour in a haze, waiting.

---

The driver picked me up at the gas station, a middle-aged man who barely spoke. I sat in the back seat, staring out the window, the world blurring past as silence pressed against my ears.

Five hours.

Five hours of sighing too loud, of breathing heavy because my chest wouldn’t loosen. Five hours of wondering why the hell I agreed to this.

At one point, the driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

“Sir… are you okay?”

I gave a half-laugh, humorless.

“Not really.”

He nodded as if he understood but didn’t ask further. Thank God. Because if he had, I might’ve actually spilled everything to a stranger.

By the time my ass went numb from sitting too long, the afternoon sun was dipping, casting gold light against the horizon. And there it was, the tall, grand building Damien owned. My pulse quickened.

The same glass. The same towering walls. The same weight in my chest.

It had been over a year. A year since I walked away. A year since I lost more than just a job.

Mark. Aaron. I wondered if they were still here. I hoped they were okay. God, I missed them.

---

The moment I stepped inside, a familiar voice broke through the quiet hum of the lobby.

“Mr. Kyle!”

Emma. The janitor. She nearly dropped the mop she was holding before running toward me, her face breaking into a smile so wide it almost hurt.

I froze for a second, then my lips curved without permission. I opened my arms, and she hugged me tight. Tight, like I never left.

“I can’t believe it. You’re back! After all this time!” she said breathlessly.

I hugged her just as tightly, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “I missed you too, Emma.”

We didn’t get to chat long. My chest ached to stay, to ask about everyone, but I forced myself to step back.

“I’ll catch up with you later, okay? I… I have an appointment with Mr. Silviero.”

Her smile faltered at his name, but she nodded. “Of course. Later then.”

---

Walking through the halls was torture. Eyes followed me. Whispered voices trailed behind like ghosts.

I knew what they were thinking. Kyle’s back.

The guy Damien fucked on the side. The boy who thought he could matter.

I clenched my fists. This, this was exactly why I never wanted to come back. Why I swore I never would.

But here I was.

And then I saw it.

The glass wall. His office.

His secretary stood outside the door, offering me a polite smile.

“He’s expecting you.”

My throat tightened as she opened the door.

And there he was.

Damien Silviero.

Same aura. Same presence that filled every inch of the room like smoke. Broody, cold, devastatingly composed. He looked up briefly from the papers he was signing, and for a second, our eyes locked. My heart nearly stopped.

It was the same as before. Except it wasn’t.

The office looked different. Bigger. More spacious. But what gutted me was the sight in the corner, my table. My old desk. Still there. Untouched. Empty.

Like a shadow of who I used to be. Like proof I never really belonged. Just there. But untouchable.

I stood frozen, every nerve screaming, as if the air itself had claws.

“You came,” Damien said the moment I stepped fully into his office.

His voice was calm. Controlled. Like it didn’t matter if I was here or not.

I turned my gaze to him. “You ordered it.”

“I’ll compensate for your time and effort,” he replied, not even flinching. “I couldn’t reschedule it.”

“Yeah, I’m already here,” I muttered. “Let’s start.”

But instead of opening the folder in front of him, he leaned back in his chair and said,

“Wait. Can we eat lunch first? I haven’t eaten a thing.”

His tone was cold, detached. Nothing about it felt like an invitation. More like… routine.

“Sure,” I said flatly. No smile. No effort to pretend.

I grabbed my phone and quickly typed a message to Gina and Dom, my fingers moving fast just so I wouldn’t have to look at him.

The secretary brought in his lunch and, to my surprise, another tray for me. Damien slid mine closer, the movement smooth and deliberate.

“Mind if you eat with me? Just a quick meal,” he said, sitting down beside me.

I wanted to refuse, but my body betrayed me. I just nodded, picked up the spoon, and tasted the food. Still warm. Too warm, almost, as if it had been timed perfectly for me.

Silence stretched. My eyes drifted across the office. That’s when I noticed it.

The coffee machine. It was gone.

The one he loved so much. The one he used to brag about like it was his prized possession.

I must’ve stared too long, because his voice broke through.

“I threw it away.”

I blinked. “What?”

“The coffee maker,” he said casually, as if tossing away something expensive meant nothing. “I threw it.”

“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Don’t want it anymore.”

I let out a small, bitter laugh under my breath. “Yeah. You always do that. You throw things away…“

My words were sharper than I intended. But then he looked at me, really looked, and said quietly,

“It kept reminding me of you.”

I froze, the food turning heavy in my mouth.

“What a bad reminder, huh?” I forced a small scoff.

He shook his head, eyes dropping to his plate. “Nah. Looking at it made me happy. It’s just… I don’t think I deserve to be. So I threw it away.”

The room went quiet. My chest ached, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what he meant.

After that, he focused on his food. I forced myself to finish mine. And once the trays were cleared, we finally opened the files in front of us.

“So,” Damien started, flipping through the pages. “The farmers under the program we funded… their production went up by twenty percent.”

I scanned the reports, nodding slowly. “That’s good. But the costs went up too. Fertilizer, equipment, labor. Some of them are struggling to balance it out. Inflation’s killing them.”

Damien’s jaw tightened. “How bad?”

“Bad enough that a few are considering dropping out of the program. The profits aren’t consistent. One bad harvest and they’re buried in debt.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “And what do you suggest?”

I swallowed, careful with my words. “They need more than money. Training. Support. Maybe even a cooperative system where resources are shared. Right now, they feel like they’re on their own, even with your funding.”

His eyes flicked up to mine, sharp and unreadable. “You think I’ve abandoned them?”

I held his stare. “Not abandoned. But money isn’t enough, Damien. You know that.”

For a moment, I thought he’d snap. That familiar fire in him burned behind his gaze. But instead, he exhaled slowly and leaned back.

“Fine. Draft a proposal. Show me how this cooperative system would work. If it’s viable, I’ll fund it.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

The conversation carried on, filled with numbers and projections, but underneath it all was a tension neither of us addressed.

His questions were sharp, my answers careful, and every pause felt like we were both holding back things that had nothing to do with the farmers.

When I finally checked my watch, my eyes widened. “It’s already seven.”

Damien closed the folder. “Then we’re done for today.”

“I should head home,” I said, rubbing my neck. “But it’ll be late if I drive back now. I’ll probably just book a hotel nearby.”

“Your hotel’s ready,” he said instantly, like he had planned this all along. “You can stay there until you go back home. I’ll take you there. Come on.”

I stiffened. “It’s okay, Damien. I’ll book my own hotel.”

“No,” he said firmly, standing. “It’s on me. Since I ordered you to come all the way here, all expenses are paid by me.”

His tone left no room for argument. I exhaled, too tired to push back. My body ached, my head spun.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Whatever you say.”

But inside, the thought twisted: Why does it feel like he’s already planned every move I’d make?

The sky had already darkened by the time we stepped out of the building.

The city lights flickered on one by one, cold and artificial, as if mocking the storm building inside me.

Damien’s car waited at the curb. Sleek. Black. Intimidating. Of course it was.

The driver opened the backseat door for me, but Damien’s voice cut through. “No. I’ll drive.”

I glanced at him, startled. “You? Since when do you—”

“Just get in, Kyle,” he said, tone flat but firm.

I bit my tongue and obeyed, sliding into the passenger seat. He rounded the hood of the car, got behind the wheel, and started the engine.

“You said it like I didn’t drive you home before. I always drop you off at your little apartment.” he said, pertaining to what he cut me off saying.

I didn’t answer. He’s right.

The silence was suffocating. Only the low hum of the car and the muted sound of the city outside filled the space between us.

I pressed my palms on my knees, trying not to fidget, but every second I felt him there, solid, close, too familiar.

After several minutes, Damien finally spoke. “You didn’t have to agree to meet me.”

I turned to him, brows furrowed. “You ordered it.”

“I gave you a choice.”

I laughed bitterly. “When it comes to you, Damien, there’s never really a choice.”

He didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, eyes fixed on the road.

The drive stretched on, heavy with everything unsaid. I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of passing lights.

My chest ached with memories I thought I had buried, the way he used to drive me home after late nights, the way I’d steal glances at him, the way silence back then felt comfortable.

Now, it just hurt.

When we finally pulled up to the hotel, it was grand. Of course it was. The kind of place I’d never step into if I were on my own.

Damien parked smoothly and got out without a word. I followed, the night air cool against my skin.

Inside, the lobby was quiet, polished marble floors reflecting golden light. The receptionist stood straighter when Damien approached, nodding respectfully before handing him a keycard.

“All set, Mr. Silviero,” she said.

I frowned. “You already booked it?”

Damien handed me the card. “Of course. I wasn’t going to let you wander around looking for a room.”

I took the card, my fingers brushing his for the briefest second. It burned. Too much.

“Thanks,” I muttered, staring at the floor.

The elevator ride was another kind of torture. Just me, him, and the quiet hum as the numbers lit up one by one.

I could feel his presence beside me. Calm but his shoulders were tense, his breathing heavier than usual.

When the doors slid open, I stepped out quickly. He followed, his footsteps steady behind me.

We stopped in front of my room. I slid the card, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. The suite was spacious, elegant, too much for someone like me.

I turned back to him, holding the door. “You don’t have to—”

But he was already leaning against the frame, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.

“Rest,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk more about the cooperative system. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

I nodded slowly, clutching the card tighter. “Okay.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. His gaze lingered on me, heavy and unflinching, and my chest felt like it was caving in.

Then, finally, he stepped back. “Good night, Kyle.”

The door closed between us with a soft click.

And just like that, I was alone.

But sleep wouldn’t come easy. Not when the ghost of him lingered right outside that door.

Chapter 33 - Fooled

I went to the building the next morning to discuss what we’d talked about yesterday. My nerves were steady, my plan was clear, until chaos greeted me at the lobby.

Mark spotted me first. His eyes bulged so wide I swore they almost popped out of his skull.

He nearly spilled his coffee all over his shirt, froze for a solid three seconds, then… bolted. Not walked, not jogged, but sprinted like an Olympic runner straight out of my sight.

I blinked, stunned. “Huh? What the hell, man?”

I half-smiled awkwardly at the empty space where he’d just been, thinking maybe I should’ve waved, maybe cracked a joke, but nope. He was gone. Vanished.

I dropped onto a nearby bench and rubbed my temples. Mark was avoiding me. That had to be it. He must’ve been pissed at me.

But before I could dwell on it, I heard heavy footsteps pounding toward me. Two men came charging from the side like I was their prey.

“What the—?”

They slammed into me so hard we all went down in a messy pile.

“Aw!”

“Fuck!”

Groaning, I scrambled to my feet, brushing dust off my clothes, only to freeze again.

Mark and Aaron. Both standing in front of me, both breathing like they’d just run a marathon.

“Uh… hi?” I offered weakly.

Silence. Then suddenly, they grabbed me and pulled me into a suffocating hug.

“Dude!” Aaron practically screamed in my ear. “Fuck you! You left us like we meant nothing!” His voice cracked, fake sobs echoing through the lobby.

Mark joined in immediately, squeezing me harder.

“I had a crush on you! And guess what? Figured out I wasn’t even your type!” He sniffled dramatically, wiping invisible tears.

I stood there stiffly, sandwiched between their melodrama, unsure if I should laugh or cry. People were starting to stare.

“Guys, seriously, can we not?” I muttered, prying myself free. “Let’s… talk. Cafeteria. Now.”

We found a corner table in the cafeteria, and the interrogation began.

Aaron leaned forward, elbows on the table, narrowing his eyes.

“Explain yourself. Right now.”

“Yeah,” Mark added, pointing a finger at me like a lawyer in court. “Where the hell did you go? One day we’re bros, next day, poof, you’re gone. Ghosted us.”

I sighed, staring at their expectant faces. “It wasn’t like that. I just… needed space.”

“Space?” Aaron repeated, horrified. “From us? Bro, we gave you snacks! I gave you half my burger once even though I was starving!”

Mark slapped the table. “And I covered for you when you sneaked out early! You think loyalty like that grows on trees?”

I couldn’t stop the chuckle that slipped out. “You guys are insane.”

“No, you’re insane!” Aaron shot back. “You left without a word. You don’t do that to your people, man. You don’t just disappear like Batman!”

“Batman always comes back,” Mark countered dramatically, then jabbed at me again. “But you didn’t! You just what? Woke up and decided, ‘Yeah, I’m done with these clowns’? Was that it?”

I raised my hands defensively. “Look, it wasn’t personal, okay? I had… things to figure out. My life was a mess, I didn’t know how to deal with everything—”

“Oh, so we weren’t good enough for your messy life?” Aaron gasped, clutching his chest like I stabbed him. “Wow. Just… wow.”

Mark groaned loudly. “At least tell mez did I ever stand a chance? Because I swear, if you tell me all those late-night gaming sessions meant nothing—”

“They were nothing,” I deadpanned.

Mark’s jaw dropped. “You monster.”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disappointment. “I can’t believe I cried real tears when I thought you were gone for good. Real tears, Kyle.”

“You cried because you lost at your stupid video game,” I reminded him.

“That’s beside the point!”

By now, I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. Their theatrics were ridiculous, but oddly comforting.

It felt like nothing had really changed, like they’d been waiting all this time just to roast me when I finally showed up.

“Fine, fine,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t have vanished. I’m begging for your forgiveness. Does that count?“

Mark and Aaron exchanged a look, then nodded in unison.

Aaron smirked. “It counts… but only if you buy us lunch for the next week.”

“And coffee,” Mark added. “Every morning. No excuses.”

I groaned, leaning back in my chair. “Blackmail. This is blackmail. But guys, I’m not technically back, you know. I only came here because Damien was our funder.“

After I told Mark and Aaron I wasn’t really back, that I was only here because of business with Damien, I left them behind, still whining dramatically in the cafeteria.

Their voices echoed after me as I stepped into the elevator.

But none of their antics prepared me for what I saw when I pushed open Damien’s office door.

I froze.

Sofia was there.

Her long hair framed her face perfectly, her figure graceful even in the simplest dress. And in her arms, resting, tiny hands clutching her blouse, was a child. No older than a year.

My pulse stuttered. My chest tightened.

They stood together. Damien tall and commanding beside her, Sofia radiant, the baby nestled against her shoulder. A picture so pristine, so natural, it screamed of family. His family.

“Come in,” Damien said evenly, like nothing about this scene was shattering the ground beneath my feet.

But my legs wouldn’t obey. I gripped the doorframe, rooted in place, unable to take a single step closer.

“Hi, Kyle,” Sofia greeted warmly, as if we were old friends. “Damien, is he back?”

Her voice was gentle, melodic, the kind of voice that could quiet storms.

And me? I could only stare.

How can I even compete with her? A woman this beautiful, this composed, this complete. She’d given him what I never could. A family.

“No,” Damien said flatly, cutting through my thoughts. “Just business.”

The words lodged deep. I forced a smile, brittle and sharp. Just business.

I’d told him the same thing before. But hearing him say it to me, hearing him claim it aloud, was like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.

“Oh, I see. We’ll go now. Kyle, excuse me,” Sofia said with a polite smile, adjusting the child in her arms. Then she left, carrying that little piece of him with her.

The door shut quietly, but the silence it left behind roared in my ears.

I finally loosened my tie and forced myself forward, though each step felt like dragging a weight.

“Have you eaten—” Damien started.

“Let’s finish the discussion so I can leave,” I cut him off sharply.

“Let’s eat first.”

“I don’t have time to eat.”

He looked at me then. Really looked. His stare pressed heavy, like he was trying to peel away my anger and see what was beneath.

“…Okay,” he said stiffly.

Two hours passed in suffocating tension. I laid out my plans, my voice mechanical, while Damien kept stealing glances, or maybe I only imagined it.

Either way, I didn’t care. My mind was elsewhere. Sofia’s face. The baby’s small hands. That perfect picture burned behind my eyelids.

When it ended, I shoved my papers back into my folder. My throat was dry, my chest raw.

“I think I’m done here. I’m going back.”

“Kyle, wait. I can drive you—”

“No, Damien.” My voice cracked, sharper than I intended. “Don’t ever go near me again.”

I stood and walked out, my steps quick, determined.

He pulled my arm but I pulled it back to him. He didn’t like that. He was furious.

“Mr. Reyes, I’m talking to you!”

His voice thundered through the corridor. Heads snapped up. Employees froze mid-step. Whispers rippled through the air like sparks. But I didn’t stop. Didn’t turn.

I walked. Out of the office. Out of the building. Out of his reach.

–

Weeks passed. Then months.

Gina took over the meetings with Damien. I buried myself in fieldwork. But still, questions gnawed at me.

Did he feel no guilt? No conscience? To kiss me, to chase me, to pull me back in when he had a wife and child waiting at home?

I wasn’t blameless. I knew that. But he was the monster who kept pushing, who kept taking.

“Kyle, I think Mr. Silviero’s getting tired of me,” Gina complained over the phone one afternoon. “He keeps asking for you.”

“You can do it, Gina. I trust you. I need to finish my lapses. Please, take over until this ends.”

“My life will end first, I swear,” she groaned.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “I can’t face him. Not anymore. I don’t want to.”

---

Work kept me moving.

More farmers signed up for the program. I oversaw their training, visited them daily, checked the progress myself.

Boots caked in mud, shirt soaked in sweat, I listened to Stan proudly explain, “Mr. Kyle, I’ve got a new farmer to train. He’s good. Doesn’t rest.”

Later, sipping fresh coconut under the blazing sun, I asked, “Your new trainee, he really doesn’t stop, does he?”

“Started just a few days ago,” Stan said. “Already done half the field.”

“A fighter, then.” I muttered, stretching my sore back.

That evening, when the sky bled orange and the air cooled, I noticed him, the new trainee, jumping off a tractor.

Instead of joining the others at the farmhouse, he walked toward the shade of a tree, far and alone.

I picked up the leftover pastries Dom had sent, carrying them carefully across the mud.

“Here,” I said, offering the basket once I reached him. “You must be exhausted. Have a snack.”

His back was to me, hunched slightly as he unlaced his boots. A cloth covered his face, shielding him like all the farmers wore.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, pulling the fabric away as he turned.

The world tilted.

My breath seized, like my lungs had forgotten how to work.

The dirt under my boots felt unreal, the golden stretch of cornfields around me blurring into nothing but noise.

My eyes widened so hard they ached, searching, pleading for my mind to catch up with what my heart already knew.

That stance. That intensity. That way he looked at me, like he could strip me down to the core with just a glance.

“…Damien?!”

The name broke from my lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

The man straightened slowly, his rough hands still dusted with soil, his shirt clinging to his chest from sweat.

The sun framed him in a cruel kind of glow, making the hard edges of his jaw sharper, familiar, unforgettable.

His lips curved, not quite a smile, more like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“You finally recognized me,” he said, his voice low, steady, and achingly familiar.

I staggered back a step, shaking my head, as if the motion could undo the sight before me. “No… no, you—this doesn’t make sense. You’re supposed to be—”

“What?” His eyes locked onto mine, burning, unrelenting. “In an office tower? Behind a glass desk?“

His boots crunched against the soil as he closed the distance between us, every step deliberate, heavy. “You think that’s all I am?“

My throat went dry, memories flashing, Damien in his tailored suits, Damien with his empire at his feet, Damien untouchable.

And now… this. A man in plain clothes, sleeves rolled up, earth beneath his fingernails.

The farmer.

The one I’d been talking to without suspicion, the one I’d brushed off as no one.

The ground seemed to drop beneath me as the truth sank in. He had been here all along. Watching. Waiting.

And I hadn’t even known.

Chapter 34 - Safe

I pulled him to the side, behind the tree, so no one would see us talking. The evening air was heavy, carrying the scent of earth and grass.

Though the sun had long fallen, the sky wasn’t completely dark, only a strange shade of blue, pierced by the pale glow of the moon that seemed to watch us from a distance, like a witness to a crime I didn’t want to commit.

My chest tightened. My pulse was erratic.

“What are you doing here?” My voice trembled, half in disbelief, half in anger. “When did you, God…when did you become a farmer?”

The words tumbled out, sharp and hysterical. I couldn’t process it, not any of it.

His face didn’t waver. “You always run away from me, Kyle,” he said. Calm and firm. Deadly honest. “I had to do this so I can see you.”

It was so straight, so unshaken, as if it was the only truth in the world.

My stomach dropped. What the hell is he thinking? This wasn’t him. He wasn’t like this. Damien, the man I knew, the man I tried so hard to bury in memory, didn’t chase anyone. He looked almost possessed.

“Damien, you’re wasting time, both our time!” My voice cracked, desperate, almost pleading. “Am I not clear? I don’t want any connection with you. I am done. I am so far gone from this—”

“Why?” His voice sliced through mine. Not harsh, but devastating in its softness. His eyes shifted, and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker, confusion, hurt, disbelief. “At least tell me why.”

The breath hitched in my lungs. He really doesn’t know? After everything, after all these years, after the choices he made… he still doesn’t understand?

I swallowed hard, a lump rising in my throat like it wanted to choke me. My voice shook as I forced the words out.

“I don’t… I don’t know why you need me to spell it out to your face. Someone as brilliant as you should’ve known by now.” My chest ached as I said it, but I pressed on. “You’re a family man, Damien. You have a wife. You have a kid. Men like that…men like you…shouldn’t be here chasing another man in the shadows.”

The silence between us was deafening. I couldn’t tear my gaze from his. I wanted to catch something, guilt, regret, even shame.

Anything that would tell me he understood. Anything that would prove this was over.

But instead…

Confusion. Pure, unshaken confusion. Like I had just spoken in a language he couldn’t grasp.

His brow furrowed. His lips parted slightly. His eyes held me in that unbearable way they always did, pulling, searching, desperate for something I wasn’t sure I could give.

“What?” His voice echoed in my head, hollow and sharp.

I blinked at him, unable to believe the blankness in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare play stupid with me, Damien. Don’t—” My throat burned, the words almost strangling me. “You have a wife. A child. Don’t stand here and look at me like you don’t remember your own damn life.”

But instead of guilt, instead of panic, what I got was anger. A quiet, simmering anger in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his chest rose and fell like he was holding back a storm.

“You’re impossible,” he said, his tone low, rough, and shaking with something I couldn’t name. “You’ve always been stubborn. You never listen, Kyle. You think you know everything, and yet you never stop to hear me out.”

The words hit me like blows, sharp and merciless.

I froze, fists curling at my sides. “Hear you out? About what? About how you sneak out of your perfect family life to chase after me? About how you stand here, pretending you don’t know what you’ve done? What do you want me to listen to, Damien?” My voice cracked, my chest heaving. “What do you want me to hear, that I’m just another distraction you couldn’t resist?”

His eyes darkened, not with guilt, but with something heavier, hurt. He looked desperate this time.

“You assume too much. You always do. You look at me, and instead of asking, you build your own truths. You’ve built this whole wall of lies in your head about me, about us, and you hide behind it because it’s easier than facing me.”

I shook my head violently, my breath ragged. “Don’t twist this! Don’t you dare twist this into my fault. I saw it. I know. Damien, I know.”

“No.” His voice was firm, cutting, final. “You think you know. But you don’t. You never have. You just run, and run, and run. And when I follow, when I fight, you call it wrong. But Kyle…”

He took a step closer, his presence swallowing me whole. His voice softened, breaking in places. “The truth is you never gave me a chance to explain. Not once.”

My chest caved in, my knees weak. The fire in me wanted to scream, to push him away, to cut him down with words sharp enough to kill.

But another part of me, a part I hated, a part I wished I could burn out, was trembling, clinging, breaking.

Because he was right.

I always assumed.

But why wouldn’t I, when it hurt less to believe the worst than to risk hearing the truth?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, but my voice came out small, fractured.

“Then tell me, Damien. If I’m so wrong, if I’m so blind… tell me. What truth am I not seeing?”

The silence that followed was unbearable. His eyes were on me, burning, shaking, breaking. The night air pressed in, thick and suffocating, as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for his answer.

His silence stretched long enough to make me dizzy. I wanted to scream, to tear the words out of him, when finally, he broke.

“I don’t have a wife.”

My breath caught.

Damien’s voice was steady, but there was a fracture underneath, sharp enough to cut.

“Sofia and I, there was nothing. No relationship. It was arranged, Kyle. A business deal dressed up as marriage. And I ended it before it even began… the moment we had a thing.”

I stumbled back a step, my head shaking furiously.

“No. No. Don’t you…don’t you lie to me, Damien. I saw it. Everyone knew. Sofia, she had your child!”

His jaw clenched, eyes blazing. “She didn’t. She was pregnant with another man’s child. Not mine. Never mine.” His words tore through the night, heavy and merciless. “And I kept it hidden, because if her father knew, Kyle, he would’ve killed her. Do you understand? He would’ve killed his own daughter. Just to save his fucking face.”

My lips parted, but nothing came out. My entire body trembled as he went on, each word heavier than the last.

“That night I left you…” His voice faltered, breaking. “It was because Sofia had an accident. And I had to be there. Not as her lover, not as her husband, but as her shield. Because if anyone found out, that baby wouldn’t survive. She wouldn’t survive.”

I shook my head, the anger rising with the grief clawing at my chest. “You should’ve told me! Damien, I begged you to tell me what was happening. I asked you over and over—”

“And I couldn’t!” His voice roared, shaking the ground between us. “Because the moment her father found out, about the child not being mine, about you being my obsession, he came for me. He told me I had two choices: marry Sofia, accept the baby, save their reputation… or watch him destroy you.”

The blood drained from my face. “What?”

“He said he would ruin you, Kyle. Tear your life apart. He would drag your name through the mud, hurt you in ways I couldn’t protect you from. I told him I didn’t care about myself, that I wouldn’t marry her. But then, then he threatened you. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t let that happen.” His voice cracked like glass.

I couldn’t breathe. The night blurred, my vision swimming. My fists trembled, tears stung my eyes, but rage flared hotter than the pain.

“You bastard,” I choked, my voice breaking into a shout. “You bastard! You could’ve told me! You could’ve trusted me instead of deciding everything for me like I was some fragile—” My chest heaved, my throat raw. “I asked you! I asked you what was wrong, I begged you to tell me, and you stood there! Silent while I tore myself apart thinking you chose her over me!”

His face twisted, tortured. “Because I thought, if I fixed it, if I ended it all, then I could come back to you clean. Without danger. Without chains. But when I did,” His voice shattered completely. “You were gone, Kyle. You left. You didn’t wait.”

The words slammed into me, tearing open wounds I thought I’d buried.

I screamed, raw and furious. “Because you gave me nothing! You let me drown in my own damn assumptions, Damien! You let me believe you chose her. You let me believe I wasn’t enough!”

He flinched, pain flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t move, didn’t reach out. His voice fell to a hoarse whisper, broken beyond repair.

“You were always enough.”

The words hit me like a blade, sharp and merciless. My chest caved in, but I forced air back into my lungs, forced rage to keep me standing.

“Don’t you dare say that now,” I spat, my voice shaking with fury. “Don’t you dare tell me I was enough when you left me in the dark. Enough doesn’t look like silence, Damien. Enough doesn’t feel like abandonment.”

He took a step closer, his eyes burning. “I didn’t abandon you! I was protecting you, Kyle. I thought if I carried it all, if I shielded you from the filth of it, you’d be safe—”

“Safe?” My laugh cracked into something ugly, bitter. “Safe from what, Damien? From knowing the truth? From standing beside you in the mess? You think I wanted safety? I wanted you!” My fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms. “But you didn’t trust me enough to fight with me. You chose to fight alone.”

His face twisted, pained. “Because if I dragged you into it, he would’ve destroyed you!” His voice thundered, echoing against the silence of the night. “I couldn’t risk that, I’d rather lose you than watch him break you apart.”

I trembled, my whole body shaking. “You don’t get to decide that for me! You don’t get to choose my pain, Damien! That was mine to choose!” My voice cracked, raw and cutting. “You took that from me, and now you want to stand here and tell me it was for love?!”

His lips parted, but I didn’t let him speak. I shoved the words into the space between us like knives.

“You let me rot, Damien. You let me believe I was nothing. That I was a mistake you erased the moment she came back into the picture. Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea what it feels like to think you were only good enough until reality caught up?”

His breath shook, his eyes glistening, but his jaw was locked like stone.

“You think it was easy for me? You think I slept at night knowing you hated me? Knowing you thought I betrayed you? Every day I wanted to break, to run to you, to scream the truth, but if I did, he would’ve gone after you. And I,” His voice cracked, almost a sob. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt because of me.”

I staggered back, chest heaving, my throat burning from the force of every word. “You don’t get it, do you? You already hurt me. You already destroyed me.”

His hand trembled at his side, as if he wanted to reach for me but didn’t dare. “I thought I was saving you.”

“Then you thought wrong,” I snapped, my voice sharp as broken glass.

Silence slammed between us, thick, suffocating. My vision blurred, hot tears slipping past my control, and I hated myself for it. For still feeling, for still breaking under his gaze.

“Tell me, Damien.” My voice was a whisper, but it shook harder than a scream. “Was it worth it? All of it? Was losing me worth playing the hero in your twisted version of saving me?”

He swallowed hard, his face collapsing, his voice barely holding. “Yes.”

The word gutted me.

“Yes,” he repeated, firmer this time, even as his eyes burned with anguish. “Because you were never harmed. Because he never touched you. Because every day that you lived without his hand on your throat, without his power crushing you, that was worth every wound I took.“ he said.

My chest shattered, rage and grief colliding in a storm. “So it was worth killing me from the inside out? It was worth watching me hate you, worth letting me believe I was nothing, because at least I wasn’t bleeding on the outside?”

His lips trembled, but his voice stayed cruel in its conviction. “If it meant you were safe… then yes, Kyle. It was worth it.”

“Fuck you…” I mumbled.

“Kyle, please…”

“It’s too late for that, Damien.”

And for the first time, he flinched as if I had struck him.

–

Hey, sorry I couldn’t update for days. Was busy with school and my part time job. Anyway, hope you liked it.

Chapter 35 - Restless

The phone buzzed at 2 a.m., dragging me out of that strange in-between state where exhaustion doesn’t quite let you sleep.

The glow lit up the dark, pale blue against my nightstand, and for a second I just stared at it. An unknown number.

I should’ve ignored it. God knows nothing good ever comes from calls like this in the middle of the night. But something deep in my gut, maybe curiosity, maybe dread pressed against my chest until my hand reached for it.

I pressed answer.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was uncertain, hesitant, but I knew it the moment she spoke.

Sofia.

My chest tightened. I swallowed down the taste of bitterness that always rose with her name.

“Hello. Do you need something?” My tone was flat, cutting. I wanted her to know I wasn’t playing games tonight.

She hesitated, like she hadn’t expected me to answer so directly. “Can you tell me where Damien is, please? His baby needs him—”

Ice flooded through me. My grip tightened on the phone.

“I don’t know where he is.”

“Kyle, please.” Her voice cracked. “It’s only you who knows.”

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. “You don’t know that. And it’s not my responsibility to report to anyone.”

There was a silence. Then, in a desperate rush, she blurted, “I’m having another baby with him. Please, stop having an affair with him! Please, stay away from my husband!”

Her words cut through me like shards of glass. Husband. Baby. Affair. I let out a scoff, sharp and humorless.

Now I didn’t know which of them was the liar anymore. Maybe both.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sofia. If he’s your husband, don’t ask me about him.” My voice was steady, colder than I felt inside. I ended the call before she could say anything else.

I tossed the phone on the bed, my chest rising and falling like I’d just run a mile.

These people. Fucking hell.

Sleep was impossible after that. My mind replayed her words again and again, twisting them, layering them with old memories, old wounds. By the time my body finally gave in around four, exhaustion dragged me under like a tide.

But by eight a.m., the sharp rap of knuckles against my door yanked me awake.

I groaned, rubbing at my eyes as I stumbled out of bed. Whoever it was, they’d better have a good reason.

When I opened the door, I froze.

There he was. Damien. Standing tall, his broad shoulders filling the hallway, a shadow of stubble on his jaw. He wore a black shirt and denim pants, a cap pulled low.

Not his usual tailored suits, not the polished billionaire everyone else saw. This version of him was stripped down, raw, almost unguarded.

And it rattled me.

“What are you doing here? How did you know where I—”

He stepped inside before I could finish, brushing past me like the space already belonged to him. His presence filled my small apartment, overwhelming the walls, the air, even the light coming through the window.

He looked around, scanning the place. For a moment, it felt like déjà vu, that other time when he’d walked in uninvited and called it too cramped, too small.

His voice back then had carried amusement, disdain. Now, it carried something heavier.

“Can I stay here? I need a place to stay.” His words were casual, like it was nothing, like barging into my life was a habit he couldn’t break.

“No. You can’t.” My reply was quick, sharp.

“I’ll cover the rent. And everything.”

“No.”

“I’ll double it.”

“No, Mr. Silviero.”

“Triple.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Okay, look. I don’t want you here. And there are a bunch of places to stay. For all I know, you even own this building. So why bother me?”

His lips curved slightly. “How’d you know?”

My heart skipped. I stared at him. “Know what?”

“That I own it.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Then I’ll move out.” I turned, heading back toward my room, but his hand closed gently but firmly around my arm.

“Hey. I’m kidding. I’ll leave after today. Can I crash on your couch?”

“Damien, stop. I’m getting tired of your games. And for the love of God, go back to where you belong.”

His voice dropped, softer, almost raw. “I belong here. With you.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “No.”

Corny. Painfully corny. But my chest still betrayed me, tightening.

“I don’t wanna go back yet—” he started.

“Sofia called me,” I cut him off. “Looking for you. She said she’s pregnant with your second kid.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah. So if I were you, I’d go back.”

“Don’t believe her.” His voice was sharp now, defensive. “She’s lying.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Maybe both of you are. I don’t care. Just… go.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he stared at me. One minute. Two. Just staring, like he could burn through every wall I’d built with that gaze.

It was then I realized I didn’t have a shirt on. Heat crawled up my neck. His eyes flickered down, but he said nothing. His restraint only made my skin prickle.

He was still in his black shirt, denim, cap pulled off now and held loosely in his hand. The look didn’t belong to him — but damn if it didn’t fit him well. Too well.

Finally, he moved. “Okay, I’ll go now. Take care.”

He turned toward the door.

I closed my eyes hard, chest heavy, fighting with myself. Let him leave. Let him disappear. That’s what I should do. That’s what I wanted.

But the words left me before I could stop them.

“Damien, wait.”

Idiot.

He turned, looking at me with those eyes that always made me feel like I was standing too close to fire.

“You look restless.” My voice came out lower than I intended. “You can stay here for today. To sleep. I’ll be out.”

He studied me for a beat, then simply nodded. No argument, no smug comment. Just quiet acceptance.

He stepped back inside, setting his cap down on the table. He moved toward my couch, too small for him, the edges already creaking under his weight.

He tried to fit himself there anyway, like he didn’t care how uncomfortable it was.

As he leaned back, eyes already heavy, he murmured, “Farming’s really hard. I should’ve bought more equipment for them.”

The words drifted out of him, soft, almost like he was talking to himself. And then his eyes slid shut, his breathing steadying into something deep, tired, vulnerable.

I stood there, frozen.

The man was chaos. Lies and half-truths, charm and destruction. And yet here he was, asleep on my couch like he had nowhere else in the world to go.

I should’ve kicked him out. I should’ve thrown his words back at him.

Instead, I stood there, watching him. And against my will, something inside me softened.

Quiet tenderness, as dangerous as it was.

Because no matter how much I told myself I didn’t care, the truth was already there, lingering in the silence between us.

I did.

I watched him until his breathing steadied, until the weight of exhaustion finally pinned him down against the too-small couch.

His arm dangled over the side, fingers brushing the floor. For once, he looked human. Not the ruthless billionaire, not the stubborn man who barged into my apartment like he owned it. Just… tired.

And maybe that should’ve been enough for me to stay. To sit in the silence and watch him sleep.

But I couldn’t.

I needed air. I needed distance. I needed answers.

So I left.

The streets outside were still warming under the morning sun, people starting their day while my own felt like it had never ended.

I walked without thinking, without planning, until I found myself pushing open the glass door of a small café just a few blocks away.

And there she was.

Sofia.

She sat near the window, sunglasses perched on top of her head, fingers curled tightly around a cup of coffee she probably hadn’t touched.

When her eyes met mine, something sharp flickered across her face, relief, triumph, desperation.

I don’t even know why I agreed to this. Why I answered her message. Why I walked here knowing I’d regret it. But here I was.

I slid into the seat across from her, the wood of the chair scraping faintly against the floor.

“Are you really pregnant with his kid?” I asked, my voice low, blunt. No room for pretenses.

Her lips parted, and for a second, I thought she’d hesitate. But she lifted her chin, gaze steady. “I am. Two months in my belly. A baby we made by love and not lust.”

I stared at her, the words rolling around in my head like stones. Love. Not lust.

I leaned back, arms crossing over my chest. “I know where he is.”

Something in her eyes lit up, quick and unguarded. Her body shifted forward, eager.

“Let’s cut the chase,” she said, voice sharp with impatience. “Tell me.”

She wanted it too much. Her eagerness reeked of something foul, like desperation masquerading as devotion.

I let the silence stretch, my fingers tapping once against the table. “He doesn’t want to show himself,” I finally said. “And I won’t drag him out for anyone. Not even you.”

Her jaw tightened. “Why are you protecting him?”

I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping. “Because he already told me the truth. That you’re not married. That your kid isn’t his. And that whatever you’re trying to paint between the two of you, it doesn’t exist.”

The color drained from her face.

For a moment, she didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. The mask slipped, and there it was, the crime, exposed.

I didn’t need her to say anything. The silence was enough.

When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, but laced with something bitter. “I didn’t expect… that Damien would be so loyal to you. After everything. After he almost lost everything because of you.”

My chest tightened, but I kept my face neutral.

Her eyes glistened, though not with tears, with something sharper, uglier. “It’s true. It’s not Damien’s kid. And I’m not pregnant.”

Her confession hung between us, heavy as stone.

“But now I realize something,” she continued, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I’m in love with him. Do you understand? I saw how good of a man he was. He protected me. He stood up for me. And yet,” she laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “He’s in love with someone else.”

Her eyes found mine.

“With you. His secretary. A man. Someone who has nothing to offer.”

The words stung, though I didn’t flinch.

Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped her cup. “I did everything to make him see me. To make him want me. But he wouldn’t even look at me. Not really. And all this time, it was you. Always you.”

There was no mask now. Just raw anger and despair bleeding together.

And in that moment, I understood. She didn’t want Damien for who he was. She wanted him because she couldn’t have him.

But it didn’t make her words hurt any less.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stand. “Then stop chasing something that isn’t yours.”

Her lips parted, like she wanted to scream, to claw, to demand. I stood up, ready to leave but she has another bullet to shoot.

She leaned in closer, her perfume cloying in the narrow space between us. “Kyle, listen to me. You should go abroad. Start fresh. I’ll cover all your expenses. You won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

My stomach knotted. I frowned, my eyes narrowing at her.

She wasn’t finished.

“Your mother,” she said, her voice softening, as if she cared. “She’s on dialysis, isn’t she?”

My blood ran cold.

I had never told anyone. Not Damien. Not friends. No one. That was a part of my life I kept locked away, private, safe. And here she was, dragging it into the light like it was nothing more than a bargaining chip.

I froze, pulse pounding in my ears.

“This is what people like me can do,” she said simply, almost smug. “We find out everything. And we use everything you love against you. Don’t make me your enemy, Kyle.”

She reached into her bag, pulled out a checkbook, and scribbled nothing on it, just her signature. She tore it free and slid it across the table toward me. A blank check.

“Take it. Name your price. Just disappear.”

The white rectangle sat between us, an open wound.

I stared at it, my hands curling into fists under the table.

This was how she fought. Not with honesty, not with love, but with money, with power, with the arrogance of someone who believed the world could be bought.

I didn’t touch the check.

Instead, I leaned forward, my voice low, steady. “You think everything has a price. But not me. Not him.”

Her face twisted, just slightly, before she smoothed it over again.

I pushed the check back across the table.

And in that moment, I realized something: no matter how much she tried to buy me out of Damien’s life, no matter how dirty her tricks became, she had already lost.

Because Damien wasn’t hers to win.

Chapter 36 - Brilliant

I rushed home.

The sun was already up, spilling its golden light across the busy streets. Everyone around me carried bags, briefcases, and their own stories to chase, but none of it mattered to me.

I didn’t care about the noise, the chaos, or the world moving on its own rhythm. I just wanted one thing.

I wanted to see him.

I wanted to see Damien. And I prayed, desperately, that he would still be there when I arrived.

Before I stepped into the taxi, my phone buzzed in my hand. Another message.

Unknown number:I’m coming for you. Damien is mine.

My lips curled into a bitter scoff. Something inside me snapped awake, suppressed anger at whoever dared to toy with us, whoever thought they could take Damien from me.

Alongside that fury came the ache, the unrelenting longing for Damien, who had endured so much and still carried it all like it was nothing.

The ride felt endless. Every street we passed, I wished would be mine. Every red light felt like an insult.

I grunted under my breath, gripping my knee tight as the driver glanced at me through the mirror, wary of my impatience.

By the time I reached the building, my chest was pounding harder than my feet against the stairs. I didn’t even wait for the elevator, I just ran, taking the steps two at a time until I reached the door.

When I entered, my heart stopped. The couch was empty. Damien wasn’t there.

A hollow drop opened in my chest, but I pushed forward, stepping deeper into the small space until my eyes finally found him.

Damien was sleeping in my bed.

He looked far too big for it, his broad chest rising and falling steadily, skin glowing faintly in the sunlight seeping through the curtains.

Topless, vulnerable, his body sprawled as though the bed could barely hold him.

Tears stung my eyes before I even realized they’d fallen. My knees hit the floor beside him, and for the first time, I really looked at him, closely, without fear, without walls between us.

He looked tired. Not just from the day, but from years of carrying more than anyone should. Even in sleep, there was a restlessness in his brow.

My hand trembled as I reached out, brushing against the sharp lines of his jaw.

He was so impossibly handsome, so painfully human in this quiet moment. Gently, I cupped his cheek, careful not to wake him, just needing to feel him, to prove to myself he was real.

But it was too late.

Damien stirred. His lashes fluttered open, revealing those dark, heavy eyes. They landed on me instantly.

“Kyle,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep, deep like velvet. “You’re back.”

“I am,” I said, my voice breaking softer than I intended.

He pushed himself up, slow and unhurried, until he was sitting on the bed. I rose to sit beside him, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“Sorry,” Damien murmured, glancing away. “I…fell asleep here. The couch wasn’t working out. I kept sliding off.”

A chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. The sound drew his gaze back to mine.

“You’re a big man, that’s why.”

“Yeah,”

For a moment, we just stared.

And then, without thinking, I reached for him again. My fingers found his face, and he stilled.

Surprise flickered in his eyes, but it quickly melted into something softer, something vulnerable.

He leaned into my palm, closing the distance like he’d been waiting for this touch.

His eyes fell half-shut, his face resting against me like it belonged there.

“Where did you go?” he asked, his voice low, still carrying the haze of sleep.

“Nowhere important,” I murmured, refusing to look away from him. I couldn’t.

But Damien could see it, the storm in my expression, the questions that weighed on me. His brows furrowed, concern creeping into his tone.

“Kyle…what’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard, my thumb brushing against his cheek as though the touch could hold him there.

“I want to hear everything from you,” I said finally, the words trembling but firm. “All of it.”

Damien’s gaze lingered on me, deep and searching. Then, slowly, he nodded and began to speak.

Damien let out a heavy sigh, his broad shoulders rising and falling as if the weight of the past years was pressing down on him all over again.

His eyes flickered to mine, then away, then back, like he wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear all of it.

“What I told you that day at the farm…” His voice was low, rough, but steady. “It was all true. Every word. Sofia and I, we had nothing. We were never in a relationship.”

I held my breath, waiting, letting him go on.

“But after you left, she started to change. She acted like…” He trailed off, searching for the right word. His jaw tightened.

“Like she was already my wife. She pushed herself into my life more than ever before. She’d show up unannounced, make decisions like she had the right to. It wasn’t like her, not at first. But suddenly, she wanted to be everywhere I was.”

I could hear the bitterness in his voice, not loud, but enough to make my chest ache.

Damien dragged a hand down his face before continuing.

“She knew about you, Kyle. She knew more than she should have. And when you were gone for a few months…she cornered me. Told me we should just make it official, and get married. She said it would finally stop her father from threatening me. Threatening us.”

His gaze hardened. “But I refused. Even then, I couldn’t do it. Not for business, not for protection, not for her. My answer never changed.”

I stared at him, my throat tightening.

His voice dropped, quiet but searing. “The truth is, I always knew where you were. Every day, every place you went. I made sure of it.”

My breath caught.

“I had you followed,” Damien admitted, his eyes locked on mine as if daring me to walk away from the truth. “Because I was scared. I knew Sofia’s family, knew what they were capable of. I knew they’d use anything to hurt me, including you. I couldn’t take that chance. So I kept eyes on you from a distance, praying you’d never know. And thank God…thank God nothing ever happened to you.”

I couldn’t speak. My pulse hammered in my ears, a mix of anger and something deeper, something that terrified me because of how much it still meant.

Damien exhaled shakily, his voice softening. “After that, I started to fight back. Not with fists, not with noise, but in ways they’d least expect. Sofia’s father…he wasn’t just another businessman.

He continued. “He came from a dynasty of money, influence, power that spanned generations. They had connections in every corner, things I didn’t. Unlike them, I built everything I have from nothing. Brick by brick, mistake by mistake. I was always the outsider trying to measure up to their empire.”

His hands clenched at his knees. “But I refused to let their cruelty keep winning. I started moving against them quietly, cutting off their leverage piece by piece. Deals. Partnerships. Whispers in boardrooms. Every step I took, I made sure it chipped away at their control. It wasn’t easy. They were born into the game. I had to learn to survive it.”

For the first time, Damien looked…small. Not weak, but exposed. Like he was stripping himself bare, giving me pieces of himself no one else had ever touched.

And even though part of me still burned with questions, with the pain of the years we lost, another part of me couldn’t ignore the way he looked at me, like all of this, everything he endured, was somehow tied back to me.

Damien’s eyes darkened as he leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed somewhere distant, as though he was watching every step of his long war play out in his head.

“I studied them for too long,” he said, voice calm, almost frightening in its steadiness. “I figured out how to make them stop. Sofia’s father…he’s obsessed with three things, success, keeping their name spotless, and making sure Sofia gets everything she wants.”

The words hung heavy between us. I swallowed, my voice barely steady. “And…how?”

Damien inhaled deeply, then exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. His lips curved, not into a smile, but into something sharper.

“I took everything from them.”

My heart lurched. “What?”

He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth tilting upward, a dangerous smirk playing across his features.

“Did you really think I’d just sit back and let them win? I’m not stupid, Kyle.”

I stared, stunned, as he went on.

“Most of the big clients Sofia’s father bragged about, the ones that made STLX Co., their company, they weren’t his to begin with. They were mine. I was the one handling them, keeping those contracts alive, making sure the goods moved and the money kept flowing.” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Without me, their empire would’ve started crumbling years ago.”

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

Damien leaned forward now, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Piece by piece, I started buying their shares. Quietly. Carefully. One by one, until I had enough to make myself the majority shareholder. When the dust settles, Kyle…STLX Co. will be mine. On top of Silviero Corp.”

I blinked hard, my chest tightening. “How did you—”

“It was easy,” Damien cut in, his tone blunt, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They were drowning in their own illegalities. I covered for them when it suited me, managed the fallout so their clients never saw the cracks. That’s why those clients trust me more than them. And I knew, if I ever walked away, if I pulled my hand out of their pockets, the clients would follow me. Not them.”

He leaned back again, his jaw tightening. “But I didn’t just want to walk away. I wanted them to feel it. So I made sure when I took my hand out, I was holding everything they thought they owned.”

His words sank deep into me. My chest rose and fell with disbelief.

“You…” I whispered, shaking my head. “I can’t believe you did all that. Damien…fuck, you’re brilliant.”

A flicker of something softened in his eyes at my words, but it disappeared quickly, buried under his steel resolve.

“You don’t understand,” Damien said, his voice lower now, heavier. “Sofia’s father would do anything for his family. For Sofia. Even if someone else had to suffer for it.”

He paused, his gaze sharpening on me until I felt it in my bones.

“And maybe,” he said slowly, “I’m worse than him. Because I didn’t just fight back. I destroyed them. I stripped them of their power, their money, their connections. I took everything they had…because they took everything from me.”

His throat worked, his voice roughening at the last word.

“They took you, Kyle.”

Chapter 37 - Melted

Damien smiled bitterly as he finished filling me in on all the details. His voice was steady, but I could see the weight pressing down on his shoulders, the bitterness hiding beneath every word.

“You think I’m unreasonable, huh?” he asked, his eyes fixed on me like he already knew my answer.

I looked at him, my chest tight. “If you were in my position, Damien, you would’ve thought the same things I did. You couldn’t give me an answer, so I made one up in my head. And it fucked me up.”

The silence that followed was heavy. His gaze softened, almost broke, but his body didn’t move. For once, Damien Silviero didn’t have a perfect response, didn’t have control.

He just sat there, breathing quietly, as if afraid the wrong move would push me away again.

Then hesitantly, almost fragile, he reached for my hand. Held it like it was the most precious thing.

This time, I didn’t push him away.

I looked down. His hand was larger, rougher, veins standing out under his skin. For a moment, I just stared at it, at the way it trembled slightly like he wasn’t sure if he had the right.

Then I traced those veins with my fingers, slow, deliberate, as if mapping the path of his blood, the proof that he was real.

Damien’s adam’s apple bobbed hard as he swallowed. His breath hitched.

And when I tilted my face toward him, closing the distance that had once felt impossible, something inside me broke loose.

I leaned in, crawling up until my lips brushed his, then pressed fully, hungrily against his mouth.

Damien froze for only a second. Then he kissed me back.

God, he kissed me back like he’d been dying to.

His mouth was warm, desperate, almost rough with the way he pulled me closer.

I straddled him without thinking, my knees pressing into my bed cushion on either side of his thighs. His hands, those hands I’d once feared and longed for, gripped my hips so tight I thought he’d never let me go again.

The kiss deepened, teeth clashing, tongues meeting, years of tension and anger and need exploding all at once. It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful. It was messy, hungry, like we’d both been starved and finally found what we were aching for.

“Fuck, Kyle…” Damien’s voice was raw against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine. “You don’t know how much I—”

“I do,” I cut him off, kissing him again, biting his lower lip until he groaned. “I do.”

My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, demanding. He groaned into my mouth, one hand sliding up my back, the other anchoring me against him like he was afraid I’d disappear.

I pulled away to look at him.

I stared. His chest rose and fell hard, muscles tight, a scar cutting across his ribs I’d never seen before.

“You’re staring,” he rasped, his mouth curved in the faintest smirk, but his eyes, his eyes were burning.

“Shut up,” I whispered, and kissed him again, harder, desperate.

He pulled me up.

We tumbled back against the couch, my body pressing into his, his skin hot against mine through my thin shirt. His hands slid beneath it, palms rough as they explored my back, my sides, every inch of me like he was memorizing me all over again.

When his thumb brushed over my nipple, I gasped into his mouth. He swallowed the sound, grinding up against me until I could feel just how hard he was through his pants.

“Damien…” I moaned, half a plea, half a curse.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled into my ear, though his hips bucked against mine like he didn’t mean it.

“Don’t you dare.”

That was all it took.

He flipped us, sudden and forceful, until I was on my back against the couch, cushions sinking beneath me.

His mouth left mine only to trail down my neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks he didn’t care to hide. I arched under him, fingers clawing at his back, pulling him closer.

“Damien, please…”

“Say it again.” His lips were at my collarbone, his teeth grazing.

“Please,” I gasped, almost shaking with how badly I wanted him.

He pulled my shirt over my head in one swift motion. His eyes darkened when he saw me bare, chest heaving, lips swollen.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe I was real. Then he bent down and took my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

I cried out, arching into him, every nerve alight. His tongue flicked, his teeth grazed, and I couldn’t hold back the noises spilling out of me.

My hands worked at his belt, fumbling, impatient, until he groaned and helped me, shoving his pants down enough to free himself.

I wrapped my hand around him, stroking, and he cursed against my skin, his whole body jerking. He looked pleased.

“Fuck, Kyle—”

The sound of him unraveling in my hand only made me hungrier.

He yanked my pants down, rough, urgent, leaving me exposed. His fingers slid between my thighs, teasing, circling, and I bucked against his hand, desperate.

“Damien—”

“You’re so ready for me,” he rasped, his breath hot against my neck. “I can feel it. God, Kyle…”

“Then stop teasing.” My voice was broken, begging. “I need you.”

His eyes locked on mine, searching, as if this was the moment he needed my permission, my trust. I nodded, pulling him down to kiss me again, pouring every ounce of my need into it.

He lined himself up, and with one slow, steady thrust, he entered me.

I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. The stretch was overwhelming, painful and perfect all at once.

Damien groaned low in his throat, his forehead pressed to mine, sweat beading at his temple.

“Jesus Christ, Kyle…”

I clung to him, every inch of me trembling. “Move. Please, move.”

And he did.

Slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts that made me gasp every time. Then faster, harder, until the couch creaked under us, until every sound I made was swallowed by his mouth.

His hips slammed into mine, his hand gripping my thigh and pulling it higher, deeper, until I was crying out his name, until the world outside this tiny apartment ceased to exist.

It wasn’t just sex. It was everything we’d held back, rage, pain, love, longing. Every thrust was an apology, a confession, a desperate plea not to lose each other again.

“Mine,” he groaned against my skin, biting down on my shoulder. “You’re mine, Kyle.”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” I gasped, holding onto him like I’d drown without him.

The pressure built, tighter and tighter, until I couldn’t take it anymore. With one last hard thrust, I shattered, crying out as release tore through me.

Damien followed seconds later, his body shaking, his groan muffled against my neck as he spilled inside me.

We collapsed together, sweaty, breathless, clinging. His chest heaved against mine, his lips pressed to my temple, as if he didn’t want to let go.

For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing.

Then Damien whispered, voice hoarse, almost breaking, “I’ve missed you every second.”

I closed my eyes, my hand still gripping his. “I know.”

And for the first time in years, I let myself believe it.

Damien collapsed against me, his breath ragged, chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

His weight pressed me into the couch cushions, heavy but grounding, as if he was anchoring me to this moment, to him.

The room smelled of sweat, skin, and the faint musk of sex. The air was warm, charged, like even the walls of this tiny apartment knew what had just happened inside it.

For a long time, neither of us moved.

His forehead rested against my temple, his lips brushing my hairline with every shaky exhale.

I could feel the erratic beat of his heart against my chest, pounding like it was trying to claw its way out. My own was no calmer.

I should’ve been embarrassed, about how messy it was, about the couch creaking beneath us, about the way my body still quivered from the aftershocks, but I wasn’t. Not with him. Not after everything.

Slowly, Damien lifted his head. His face hovered inches from mine, eyes darker than I’d ever seen them, softened only by the sheen of sweat clinging to his lashes.

He looked undone. Stripped of every layer he’d carefully built for the world.

“Are you okay?” His voice was rough, hoarse, almost careful.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Yeah. Are you?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, though it wasn’t really amusement. More like disbelief. His thumb brushed my jaw, tenderly.

“I’ve been a lot of things, Kyle. But this…” He trailed off, shaking his head, his gaze dropping to my lips like he couldn’t look away. “This feels like the first time I can breathe.”

My chest ached. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I kissed him instead. Soft this time. Slow. A contrast to the frantic hunger from before.

He melted into it, like he’d been waiting years for this kind of gentleness.

When we pulled apart, Damien shifted, careful as he lay down beside me on the couch, tugging me with him until I was half on his chest.

The space was cramped, awkward, but he didn’t care. His arm wrapped around me, holding me close, as if the thought of letting go terrified him.

I rested my ear against his heartbeat, steadying, grounding. “I didn’t think this would ever happen,” I admitted quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

“I didn’t think I’d deserve it,” he whispered back, his hand tracing slow circles on my bare back. “Not after everything I did… and everything I couldn’t say.”

Silence settled again. Not heavy, not suffocating, just… full. Like there were a thousand unspoken truths suspended in the air, waiting for the right time to fall.

My eyes drifted shut. I felt his lips press against the top of my head, lingering there like a promise.

“I thought I could never kiss you again,” he mumbled.

For once, there was no anger between us. No walls. Just skin against skin, breath against breath, and the quiet realization that no matter how much we’d broken each other, we still fit.

Damien tightened his hold on me, his voice low, almost afraid.

“Don’t run from me again, Kyle.”

I opened my eyes, staring into the dim ceiling above us. The plea in his tone cut deeper than anything else had.

“I won’t,” I said finally. My voice was steady, though my heart wasn’t.

And maybe that was the truth. Or maybe it was just what I needed to believe in this moment, tangled up in him, in this tiny apartment that suddenly felt like the center of the universe.

Chapter 38 - Sneak

I stirred at the faintest sensation, something tapping against my cheek. At first I thought I was dreaming, until I felt a soft brush against my skin. A kiss. Then another. So light it almost tickled.

Butterfly kisses.

“Kyle…” A whisper broke through the fog in my head. My name, drawn out in a voice I’d know anywhere. Close. Too close.

My heart stumbled in my chest when I heard the next word.

“Baby…”

I froze, my lashes fluttering open, still half-asleep, half-believing I was stuck in a dream I didn’t want to wake from.

But Damien’s face was the first thing that came into view, sharp, focused, already dressed in jeans and his polo shirt.

I rubbed my eyes hard, trying to make sense of it. “Where… where are you going?” My voice was hoarse. My gaze flicked to the glowing red numbers on the bedside clock. Three a.m.

Damien’s answer wasn’t an answer. He just leaned in, kissed me quick like it was nothing, then tugged me upright.

“We’re leaving,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked at him. “Leaving? At three in the morning? What the hell—”

But I never finished, because his mouth found mine again. This time the kiss was deep, heated, the kind that burned away any thought that I was dreaming. My knees almost gave out.

By the time I realized what was happening, Damien already had my shirt halfway on me.

His fingers worked with practiced urgency, buttoning me up, pulling me close only to push me into the next step, pants, jacket.

I didn’t even think to fight it. My brain lagged behind my body, sluggish, trying to catch up with why .

And then, Jesus. He crouched in front of me, his long fingers deftly tying the laces of my shoes like it was second nature. I stared down at him, my chest tightening.

“What are you doing?” I muttered, breathless, the question meant for him and for myself.

Because if this was a dream, why did that kiss still burn on my lips?

Why did I feel like I was being swept into something I couldn’t stop?

Damien’s hand wrapped firmly around mine as he led me out of the building.

At first, I thought he was just being possessive again, but then I noticed the way his eyes flicked around every corner. Every shadow. Like he was making sure no one was following us.

“Damien, what’s going on?” I whispered, my brows furrowing. My heart thudded against my ribs with every careful step he took.

“Quiet,” he said, voice sharp but low. His grip on my hand tightened.

That was enough to shut me up, though confusion ate me alive. He didn’t relax until we reached the back of the building, where a black Rolls Royce was already waiting, sleek and intimidating even in the faint glow of the streetlights.

Damien opened the back door for me. “Get in.”

I slid inside, still groggy, still lost, and before I could demand answers, he was already at the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?” I tried again, my voice heavier now with impatience.

“Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere far.” His eyes flicked to me through the rearview mirror, unreadable.

And then he started driving.

I wanted to keep pressing, to at least get a damn explanation, but sleep still weighed down my body.

The motion of the car, the silence, and Damien’s presence beside me, it lulled me against my will. My eyelids sank, and before I knew it, I was out cold.

---

When I opened my eyes again, the world outside had changed.

The city was gone. No more skyscrapers clawing at the sky, no horns blaring in the chaos of dawn traffic. Instead, the horizon was painted with the first hints of sunrise.

Golden light streaked across a quieter road. My watch read 6 a.m.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. A few shops and small restaurants dotted the streets we passed, but it was nothing like the suffocating noise of the city.

Damien pulled into the lot of an old diner, parking with ease.

Inside, the smell of frying bacon and brewed coffee hit me immediately. A waitress greeted us with a tired smile, leading us to a booth.

I was still too dazed to question it further, and before I knew it, burgers and pancakes were placed in front of us.

I stared at Damien across the table as I chewed. “So are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

For the first time that morning, he smiled. Not the cruel kind. Not the one that hid daggers in its corners. A small, genuine one.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll love it.”

That only made me more curious. But as usual, Damien was a brick wall, quiet, unreadable, impenetrable. I sighed, deciding to let it go.

---

An hour later, we arrived.

It wasn’t the kind of place I expected from Damien. Not a towering mansion. Not another cold, perfect penthouse.

The house was simple, warm, alive. Its gates were draped with flowers in bloom, a garden stretched out in soft colors, perfectly landscaped.

I swallowed hard. My chest tightened. Mom would have loved this place.

“Are we… staying here?” I asked, my voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

“For a while,” Damien said simply before heading inside.

I stayed rooted, drinking the sight in. But when Damien came back, my entire world tilted.

Because he wasn’t alone.

There she was, my mom.

Her frail hand clung gently to Damien’s arm as he helped her walk toward me, steady and careful.

“M-Mom?” My voice broke. My eyes stung.

She smiled at me, and I couldn’t stop the tears. I ran to her, wrapping her in my arms. My throat burned as I choked out,

“Are you okay? Are you—”

“I’m okay, son.” Her voice was soft, soothing, the same voice that used to sing me to sleep. “You’ve taken care of me all these years. Don’t worry.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her. Healthier. Her skin had more color, her frame steadier. She didn’t look like the woman I left behind last night.

My gaze snapped to Damien, confusion twisting inside me. But he only stood there, silent, watching us.

Overwhelmed, I held her tighter. I didn’t even care if I was crying like a child. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

“Kyle,”

Her voice made me freeze. Mom was standing by the stove, humming softly while stirring something.

She turned when she heard my footsteps, and when her smile landed on me, my chest nearly split open.

“Mom…” I whispered, my throat tight. “You look… you look so much better.”

She chuckled, waving me over. “Come here, don’t just stand there like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I rushed to her side, hugging her from behind. “I’m not dreaming, right?”

“You’re not.” She reached up, touching my cheek with her warm hand. “I told you, son, I’m okay. Better than I’ve been in years.”

I blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again. “I can’t believe this… you look alive, Mom. I… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then don’t.” She laughed lightly, turning back to stir the pot. “Just sit down. You don’t need to say anything. I’m happy. That’s enough.”

For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe. To believe her words.

But Damien wasn’t in the kitchen.

I glanced toward the hallway, a tug in my chest pulling me until my feet moved on their own.

---

The door creaked as I pushed it open. Steam rushed out to meet me.

And then, Damien.

He stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, water dripping from his hair and down the ridges of his chest. My breath caught in my throat.

“Damien—” I stammered, immediately averting my eyes. “I didn’t know you were—”

His smirk stopped me cold. “Showering?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “You sound disappointed I’m not still in there.”

My face heated. “Shut up. That’s not—”

He closed the distance between us in two long strides, water still glistening on his skin. His hand caught my wrist, tugging me closer until my chest brushed his damp skin.

“You’re staring again,” he murmured, lips inches from mine.

“I wasn’t,” I muttered, though the words came out shaky.

His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing my gaze to lock with his. “You always look at me like that.”

“Like what?” My voice cracked.

“Like you can’t help yourself.” His breath ghosted over my lips.

I swallowed hard. “Damien…”

“What?” His smirk faded, replaced by something deeper, heavier.

“Damien, my mom’s here,” I whispered, weakly pushing at his shoulder.

“She’s resting,” he muttered against my skin, his lips trailing lower. “And I’m not letting you go.”

My knees nearly buckled. “You’re insane.”

He chuckled darkly, kissing me harder. “Then be insane with me.”

“Damien…” My voice cracked as he pressed me tighter against the wall. His body was all heat, all muscle, his towel barely hanging on.

“Say it,” he whispered, his mouth brushing mine. “Say you want me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathless. “I… I want you.”

His smirk curved against my lips. “Good.”

Then he kissed me, hungry, desperate, claiming me like he’d been waiting too long. His hand tangled in my hair, pulling me deeper into him until I was drowning in his taste, his warmth, everything that was him.

“God, Kyle…” he groaned against my lips, his voice rough, almost broken. “You drive me insane.”

I clung to him, my hands sliding over his damp skin, memorizing every line, every scar. “You’re going to ruin me.”

“Already did,” he whispered, kissing down my jaw to my neck, sucking hard enough to make me gasp. “And I’ll do it again.”

“Damien—” My protest died in a moan when his hands gripped my waist, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. Instinctively, my legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

His forehead pressed against mine, his breathing ragged. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

I stared into his eyes, dark, intense, burning, and felt every ounce of fight drain from me.

“Don’t stop.”

That was all he needed.

He carried me to the bed, laying me down with surprising gentleness before claiming my mouth again.

His hands roamed, mine too, the air between us charged, electric. Every kiss, every touch left me trembling, wanting more.

“I need you,” I admitted, the words tumbling out in a shaky whisper.

“You have me,” he answered instantly, his lips brushing mine. “Always.”

And then there were no more words, only heat and breathless sounds, only the way he made me feel like I belonged to him, like there was no world outside that moment.

The daylight slipped through the curtains, painting our tangled bodies in gold as we gave in to each other completely.

---

I blinked awake to the soft glow slipping through the curtains. A blanket was draped over me, heavy with Damien’s warmth.

My body ached in places I didn’t want to admit, but what really froze me was the sight of him, still asleep, his chest rising and falling, his face finally at peace.

I carefully shifted, trying to slip out of bed.

But before I could even get both feet on the ground, a hand shot out and caught my wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Damien’s voice was low, groggy, but commanding as ever.

“I was just…” I hesitated, eyes darting anywhere but him. “…going to the bathroom.”

He tugged me back with surprising strength, pulling me against his chest. His arms locked around me like chains. “Stay.” His breath ghosted over my neck. “Just… stay.”

I sighed, half-annoyed, half-melting. “Damien—”

“Please.” That one word broke something in me. His grip was so tight, like he was terrified I’d vanish if he let go.

So I gave up fighting. I shifted, nestling against him, letting my forehead rest on his collarbone.

He exhaled, relieved, and we stayed like that, silent, tangled, breathing the same air.

When the stillness finally gave way, his voice rumbled again.

“Do you want another round?”

I swatted his arm immediately. “Are you insane? I’m still sore.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against me. “That’s what you get for leaving me.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide my smile. “Idiot.”

We both laughed, but then the laughter faded, leaving only the sound of our breaths.

My chest tightened. “…What’s gonna happen now?”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look me in the eye. His expression softened, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“You don’t have to carry this, Kyle. Just trust me. I’ll do the rest. It won’t be easy, but… I promise I won’t let them get to you.“

I bit my lip, searching his face. “Is that why you ran away? You’re hiding from them?”

His gaze darkened, but he shook his head.

“No. I didn’t become a farmer to hide.” He leaned closer, voice dipping. “I became a farmer because it was the only way I knew I could see you again.”

I blinked, stunned. “…That’s the dumbest, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Then a laugh slipped out of me. “God, Damien… you? A farmer? It doesn’t suit you at all.”

His smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Really? You think so?”

“Yeah.” I grinned despite myself. “Sweating, muddy, tan… and yet…” My cheeks heated as I glanced away. “…you actually looked… kind of hot.”

His eyes lit with mischief as he tugged me back toward him.

“Oh? So the polished, suit-wearing billionaire wasn’t enough? I thought you liked unbuttoning my shirt, loosening my tie, pulling me apart piece by piece.”

My throat went dry as his breath brushed my ear. “Turns out,” he murmured, “you like farmer Damien even more.”

My whole face burned. “Shut up,” I muttered, burying my face in his chest.

But his laughter followed, low and dangerous.

And I hated how much I loved it.

Chapter 39 - Love

Explicit scenes ahead 🔞

---

It had been a week since we stayed in the house. At first, I thought Damien had rented it, just another temporary place. But then I found out he’d bought it, for my mom.

“You didn’t have to,” I told him the night I found out. I was standing by the sink, drying the last plate. My voice came out sharper than I meant. “Damien, you can’t just go around buying houses.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, calm as always. “I can. And I did.”

I frowned, shaking my head. “You can’t just—”

“Kyle,” he cut me off smoothly, that dangerous mix of patience and finality in his tone. “It’s already done. You can’t do anything about it now.”

I hated the way he said it. Hated it because he was right. And because a part of me… didn’t want to undo it.

The week passed in a rhythm I never expected to fall into with him. We cooked together, though if I’m being honest, I did most of the cooking.

“Careful with that,” I said one night, watching him chop onions.

He lifted an eyebrow. “What? I’m doing fine.”

“You’re holding the knife wrong. You’re gonna cut your fingers off.”

Damien smirked, deliberately making a sloppy slice. “Then you’ll just have to kiss it better.”

I threw a towel at him, which he caught one-handed, smug as hell. My mom peeked in at us once, smiling in that way that made my chest ache.

And at night… we made love.

“You never get tired,” I whispered against his lips once, breathless, my body trembling under his.

His hand slid down my side, firm, claiming. “Not when it’s you.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I did.

But this morning, when I woke up, the bed was cold. Empty. My heart lurched before I even opened my eyes. He never left without telling me.

I checked the rooms. Nothing. Even my mom wasn’t inside.

Panic gnawed at me until I stepped outside and froze.

There they were, both of them kneeling in the garden. My mom’s hands were dirty with soil, her face lit up with a smile I hadn’t seen in years.

Damien was beside her, shirt damp with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead, dirt smudged across his cheek. He looked… ordinary. Human. Almost happy.

I walked closer. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

Damien looked up, lips twitching into a smirk. “Through your new project implementation. I studied it.”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide my relief.

“You actually read my notes?”

“Of course,” he said. “You think I don’t pay attention?”

I crouched down beside him, watching as he pressed a seed into the soil.

“I miss working,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He turned his head, eyes locking on mine. “I don’t.”

I blinked. “What do you mean, you don’t?”

“I don’t miss it. Not when you keep me occupied.” He said it simply, like it was a fact.

Heat rushed up my neck. I shoved his shoulder. “Idiot. I’m being serious.”

“I am serious,” Damien countered, brushing dirt from his hands. “You’re enough work on your own.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was thundering.

“But… is it really okay? That you’re not, you know, hands-on with your business anymore?”

Damien planted another seed, covered it carefully, then finally looked at me. His gaze was steady, grounding, almost too much to hold.

“I have people managing everything for me. The empire runs whether or not I touch it. Right now…”

His eyes flickered from me to my mom, who was humming softly as she watered a row of plants. “Right now, this is where I want to be.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. Because I didn’t know what scared me more, his world… or the thought of losing this one.

–

When my mom mentioned we needed groceries, I expected to be the one to run down to the market. What I didn’t expect was Damien insisting on coming with us.

“I’ll drive,” he said casually, already grabbing his keys like it was decided.

“You?” I raised an eyebrow. “In a public market? Damien, do you even know what change looks like?”

He smirked, unbothered. “I have coins.”

I stared at him. “No, you don’t. You have… gold cards.”

“Then today, I’ll use cash.” His lips twitched, and I swear he enjoyed watching me suffer.

Mom laughed, shaking her head. “Let him come, Kyle. He wants to help.”

Help. Right. I could already imagine Damien in his neatly pressed shirt and designer shoes, walking through muddy aisles and plastic-covered stalls. This was going to be a disaster.

---

The second we arrived, all eyes turned. It was impossible not to notice him, tall, broad-shouldered, exuding that air of someone who didn’t belong here but somehow owned the place anyway.

I tugged on his sleeve.

“Could you… I don’t know… try not to look like a stockholder in a vegetable market?”

He tilted his head, amused. “What does that even mean?”

“It means loosen up,” I hissed. “People are staring.”

“They always stare.”

I groaned. This man.

Mom, on the other hand, was in her element, smiling, greeting the vendors, asking about prices. Damien followed her, studying everything like he was auditing the entire market.

When one vendor quoted a price for tomatoes, Damien raised an eyebrow.

“That’s higher than the current average per kilo,” he said flatly.

The vendor blinked. “Uh, sir?”

I slapped his arm. “Damien! This is not a board meeting!”

He leaned down, voice low, smug. “I’m just saying. They can’t fool me.”

I wanted to sink into the ground.

---

Things got worse when he insisted on carrying everything. And I mean everything.

“Damien, give me one bag,” I said, reaching for the vegetables.

“No.”

“You’re carrying all of them. You look ridiculous.”

He glanced at me, arms loaded with grocery bags, looking like some overqualified pack mule.

“You’re not carrying anything. That’s the point.”

I bit back a laugh. “You look like you’re punishing yourself.”

“I don’t mind.” He leaned closer, murmuring so only I could hear. “If it means you don’t strain yourself.”

My heart skipped, but I rolled my eyes anyway. “You’re insane.”

“And you like it.”

God help me, he wasn’t wrong.

At one point, a group of girls passed us, giggling and whispering about Damien.

One even had the nerve to nudge her friend and point. Damien ignored them completely, but my chest tightened anyway.

“Do you have to look like that everywhere you go?” I muttered.

“Like what?”

“Like… like…” I gestured helplessly. “Like you’re a Calvin Klein ad on legs.”

He smirked. “Jealous?”

“I’m annoyed,” I corrected, heat creeping up my neck.

He leaned closer, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re jealous.”

I shoved him lightly. “Shut up and pick the eggs.”

By the time we got to the meat section, Mom was already chatting with the butcher.

Damien hovered close, scanning the cuts of pork and beef like he was about to make a million-dollar investment.

“You’re overthinking this,” I whispered.

“I’m not. Quality control matters.”

“It’s dinner, not a merger.”

He gave me that look, sharp, unreadable, but somehow soft when it landed on me.

“It’s for your mom. That makes it more important than a merger.”

And just like that, the world tilted a little.

On the drive home, the trunk was full, my mom was humming happily, and Damien’s hand rested casually on my knee while he drove.

“You did… okay,” I admitted reluctantly.

He smirked. “Just okay?”

“Fine. You were… useful.”

“Useful?” His hand squeezed my knee, teasing. “You’ll have to do better than that, Kyle.”

I fought back a smile, staring out the window so he wouldn’t see. “Don’t push your luck.”

But deep down, I was already gone.

The sheets were soft beneath my back, the air still warm from the shower clinging to my skin. My hair was damp, the scent of my soap lingering faintly around me.

I tried to focus on the book in my hands, eyes running over the words, but none of it stuck.

Not with Damien pressed against me, his arm slung heavy and possessive around my waist, his chest molded to my back.

And then, again, he breathed me in. Nose buried against my neck like he couldn’t stop himself.

I shifted a little. “Damien…”

A rumble against my skin, low and unapologetic. “You smell too damn good. I can’t help it.”

“You’re distracting,” I muttered, flipping the page.

“Good,” he said simply, and then kissed my shoulder. Another kiss. Then another. His hand splayed across my chest, thumb brushing over my skin.

Finally, I sighed, slammed my book shut, and set it on the table.

“You’re impossible.”

He smirked, leaning in to kiss me. His lips were warm, demanding. I didn’t move.

He pulled back, frowning. “Why don’t you kiss me?”

“Why?” I asked flatly.

His brows furrowed like he couldn’t believe the question.

“Do you need a reason? I’m your reason.”

I laughed. A real laugh, sharp and amused, because seeing him, this man, this mountain of muscle and power, pouting over a kiss was absurd.

“You’re such a baby sometimes.”

The truth was, the more he tried, the more my mind drifted back to the way people looked at him. The way their eyes followed him. Wanting him. It gnawed at me, hot and sour.

So I shifted, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. His breath caught, his eyes darkening instantly, his body stiff beneath mine.

“You think you’re the only one who gets to play games?” I muttered, pressing my palms to his chest.

His skin burned under my touch, broad and hard, his chest rising with sharp breaths.

My fingers dragged lower, tracing every muscle, every line of his abs.

His eyes stayed locked on me, pupils wide, mouth slightly open like I was already undoing him.

I smirked, ruffled his perfect hair just to mess with him. His jaw clenched.

I felt his member inside his shorts pressed against me, thick and growing harder by the second.

“Kyle…” His voice cracked, low and dangerous.

But I didn’t stop. I teased his skin, slow and deliberate, feeling him twitch beneath my hands. His breathing grew heavier, impatient.

Then, in a blink, he snapped. His hands grabbed me, flipping me effortlessly onto my back, pinning me to the bed with his weight.

“You’re playing with me,” he muttered.

His mouth crashed against mine, rough, devouring. Heat surged through me, stealing my breath, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I kissed him back, hard, desperate.

He tore from my lips, his mouth finding my neck. I gasped as he sucked, bit, dragged his teeth along my skin.

“Damien, don’t leave marks!”

He growled against me.

“I want them. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

His mouth moved down in a hurry, over my collarbone, my chest, each kiss hotter, wetter, harsher. Down my stomach, teeth scraping, tongue claiming me.

“Wait, ” I shoved at his shoulders, breathless. “Lay down.”

“What?” His eyes narrowed, confused.

“You heard me.” I pushed harder until he gave in, his back hitting the mattress.

I climbed back on top of him, pinning his wrists down, kissing him rough, tasting his frustration. He growled into my mouth, but he let me.

“Kyle, damn it!”

I trailed my lips down his neck, over his chest, taking his nipple between my lips, teasing it with my tongue until he hissed and bucked beneath me.

I smirked and kept going, licking each ridge of his abs, slow enough to drive him insane.

“Fuck, Kyle…” His voice broke.

I reached his waistband. His boxers strained, tenting, his cock thick and heavy beneath the fabric.

I palmed it, felt him twitch in my hand, hard and pulsing. Growing and growing.

Slowly, I tugged the waistband down.

He sprang free, huge, hard, veins running along his length. My throat went dry. He was massive, every time, and I never got used to it.

I wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly, deliberately. His head fell back against the pillow, a guttural growl tearing from his chest.

“Fuck.”

I leaned down, licked the swollen tip, circling my tongue, tasting the salt of his pre-come. He groaned, hips twitching.

I dragged my tongue down the thick shaft, then up again, wetting him, before wrapping my lips around him and sinking down.

His groan was loud, raw, primal. He filled my mouth, thick and deep, pushing into my throat until I gagged, but I kept going, adjusting, swallowing him down.

His hand fisted in my hair, guiding me.

“Fuck. Kyle, you’re gonna kill me—”

I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder, stroking with my hand as I bobbed, his cock slick with spit. His hips thrust shallowly, using my mouth, his groans broken.

“Mph—” I gagged.

He yanked me off suddenly, chest heaving, eyes wild.

“Stop, if you keep going, I’ll come…”

Before I could speak, he grabbed my shorts, yanked them down, slick lube cold against me. My body shivered, heat spiking.

He positioned me above him, his cock pressing against me, stretching me slowly as he pushed inside.

My mouth opened in a silent cry as he filled me inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. My nails dug into his shoulders, overwhelmed by the fullness.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low, shaking. “So tight. So good.”

“Ahh! Damien!”

I gasped, rocking slowly, adjusting around him. The stretch burned, but it was a burn I craved.

He started moving, thrusting up into me, slow at first, then faster. The bed squeaked under the rhythm of his hips. My moans spilled against his ear, raw and uncontrolled.

Then he flipped me onto all fours, his hand pressing my head into the pillow. He slammed into me from behind, deep, fast, each thrust stealing my breath.

“You like this?” he growled in my ear. “You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” I cried out.

His grip bruised my hips as he pounded into me, his dirty words spilling, his groans guttural. I couldn’t hold back the sounds tearing from my throat.

“I’m close! Damien! Ah!” My voice broke.

He thrust faster, harder, until I shattered, coming undone, my body shaking, moans muffled in the pillow.

But he didn’t stop. He kept going, fucking me through it, relentless, until his groan tore through the air and he spilled inside me, hot, filling me deep.

We collapsed together, tangled, sweaty, breathless. His arm locked around me tight, pulling me close.

His lips brushed my ear, his voice rough, ragged.

“You’re mine. Every inch of you. I love you.” he muttered softly and kissed my forehead.

“I love you more, Damien.”

And even with the ache, the sweat, the marks burning my skin, I didn’t want to be anything else.

Chapter 40 - Out

Thank you for reading. I am beyond grateful.

---

His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek, warm and steady. My fingers absentmindedly traced lazy circles across his skin, playing with the faint ridges of muscle.

Damien’s arm was wrapped firmly around me, like he had no plans of ever letting go.

“Is it okay to stay like this forever?” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

“Yes.” His voice was low, certain. He tightened his hold on me, almost crushing, like he was anchoring me to him. “Forever.”

I smiled faintly, closing my eyes. For a moment, it felt possible.

But then Damien broke the quiet.

“I hired a private nurse for your mom,” he said softly, like he was testing my reaction.

I lifted my head to look at him.

“You… what? Damien, you don’t have to do that.”

“Please,” he interrupted firmly, brushing a hand through my hair. “That’s the least I could do. Let me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his eyes, serious and unwavering silenced me. So I just nodded, my chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and helplessness.

The silence that followed was heavy. Comfortable, yet not. Words pressed at my throat, but I didn’t know how to start. Finally, I took a deep breath and blurted it out.

“Damien… I don’t really know anything about you. Other than… you’re rich.”

His arm pulled me closer instantly, as if he could shield himself from the weight of that truth.

His gaze drifted to the ceiling, his jaw flexing like he was debating if I deserved an answer.

Then, quietly, he spoke. “Hmm, I’ll tell you.”

“I will listen.”

“My mother was a narcissist. Abusive. Nothing I did was ever enough. She wanted control, obedience, and perfection. And when she didn’t get it, she made me pay.”

I froze, my chest tightening.

“And my father…” His voice hardened, a bitter laugh escaping. “A drunk. He had fists for love. Bruises were the only thing he knew how to give. I left as soon as I could. Ran away. And when I did… I had nothing. No family. No home. I was an orphan, but in some twisted way, it felt like freedom.”

His thumb brushed absently across my back as he continued, almost like confessing to me was unraveling something he’d locked away.

“I was lucky. A construction company ran a scholarship program, and I grabbed it like my life depended on it, because it did. I studied harder than anyone. First one in the library, last one out. I learned not just the work, but the business, the system that built and destroyed men.”

I tilted my head up to watch his face as he spoke. His eyes weren’t just dark now, they were alive with memory.

“After college, I didn’t waste a second. While others looked for jobs, I already had blueprints. I convinced people with money to listen to me, to trust me. I made deals others thought impossible. Risks? I lived on them. And when one paid off…” He let out a humorless smirk.

“I bought my first lot. Small. But mine. From there, it was one project after another. Houses. Buildings. Skyscrapers. I didn’t just want to build. I wanted to conquer.”

He paused, his hand gripping me tighter. “Every brick, every steel beam, it wasn’t just construction. It was me burying the boy who was beaten, the boy who was told he was nothing. I killed him with every success.”

My throat felt dry. I wanted to tell him he hadn’t killed that boy, that some part of him still lived, still hurt. But the words stuck.

Instead, I whispered, “And now you’re… Damien Silviero. The man everyone stares at like they want.”

His eyes flicked down to me then, unreadable, but softening just enough. “The only eyes I care about staring at me… are yours.”

–

The phone buzzed again. I pretended not to hear it, my eyes fixed on the book in front of me, but the words blurred.

My ears caught every vibration, every shift in Damien’s tone as he answered.

He didn’t hide it. He never did. Damien took his calls openly, even with me around. It was me, me who felt like an intruder listening to a world I didn’t belong to.

His world. The one filled with money, deals, power, and decisions that could topple empires.

And yet… he still chose to be here. With me.

I gripped the edge of the page, trying not to look anxious. But my stomach churned.

Calls kept coming, one after another. Important. Urgent. A constant reminder that Damien wasn’t just Damien, the man who kissed me awake in the morning or teased me in the kitchen. He was still Damien Silviero. The CEO. The founder. The man the world waited on.

What if he was sacrificing too much just to keep me safe? What if I was the reason things were falling apart on his end?

I hated the thought.

Finally, he ended the call. His expression was unreadable, his tone clipped, but the moment his eyes landed on me, it all softened.

He leaned down and brushed a quick kiss on my lips, as if to erase the distance the phone had created.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. He always noticed. His gaze searched my face, sharp and careful.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, too quickly.

His brow furrowed. He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push, yet.

Instead, I tried to redirect.

“Are they… still trying to get me?” My voice wavered, low, but I forced the words out.

Damien exhaled, a heavy sigh. Then he nodded once.

“Yes.” His hand slid across my back, grounding me. “But my men are protecting us. They won’t get close.”

I swallowed, but the reassurance only did so much. My chest tightened anyway.

“Even if you say that…” I trailed off, staring at my lap. “They must be furious. You ruined them, Damien. People like that don’t just accept defeat. They’ll be angry. Desperate. They’ll want revenge.”

His grip on me tightened, strong and unshakable.

“Let them be angry,” he said flatly. “Let them starve. Let them thirst. I don’t care.” His eyes burned into mine. “They can want to kill me all they want. But they’ll never touch you. Not while I’m breathing.”

The certainty in his voice made me shiver. Not fear, something heavier.

Something that made me want to both cling to him and push him away, because it terrified me how far he’d go for me.

---

The air smelled like sun-warmed bread and fresh-cut flowers. Vendors called out in cheerful voices, holding up baskets of fruit, vegetables, and blooms that swayed in the morning light.

Somehow, this farmers market date took all my worries away.

He looked so handsome. Not that he wasn’t. Just extremely handsome today.

He was just Damien, sleeves rolled up, one hand lazily tucked into his pocket, the other carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers my mom wanted for the garden.

I walked beside him, close enough to feel the brush of his arm.

He kept glancing at me when I stopped to look at stalls, almost like he was memorizing every stupid smile I made over sunflowers or jars of honey.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he teased, lips quirking.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“You’re just mad everyone’s looking at you instead of their vegetables.”

“They can look all they want,” Damien said, his eyes sliding back to me. “I only care about you.”

My chest tightened at the way he said it, casual but sharp enough to cut through everything else. I was about to reply when it happened.

The first crack split the air like lightning.

Then another.

Gunshots.

People screamed. The market exploded into chaos, vendors ducking behind their tables, baskets of fruit spilling across the ground as people ran.

My body froze before instinct slammed into me. I turned toward Damien just as he shoved me behind him, shielding me with his body.

“Stay down,” he snapped, his voice like steel.

I dropped, heart hammering, my hands gripping the edge of the stall. My ears rang with another shot, too close, too sharp.

I lifted my head just in time to see Damien jerk.

His face tightened. His hand flew to his side, no, lower.

Blood.

“Damien!” My voice cracked, raw with panic.

He staggered, his bouquet falling to the dirt. People shoved past us, screaming, but all I could see was the dark stain spreading fast across his shirt near his pelvis. My lungs seized.

“No, no, no!” I scrambled up, reaching for him. He caught my arm, shoving me forward.

“Move!” he barked, voice strained. His grip was iron, even shaking. He pulled me through the chaos, weaving us between stalls.

I barely registered the bullets or the shouting. All I felt was the warm slick of his blood against my hand where I pressed hard, desperate to stop it.

“Damien, you’re s-shot…” My voice broke.

“Keep moving!” His teeth were clenched, his face pale but unyielding. “Don’t stop, Kyle!”

We burst out of the market into the street where one of his men, already waiting in a car, threw the door open.

Damien half-shoved, half-lifted me inside before collapsing against the seat himself. I grabbed him, pulling him into my lap, pressing my hands against his wound.

Blood soaked my fingers. Too much.

“Drive!” Damien roared at his man, his voice raw.

The car screeched forward, my world blurring outside the window. I pressed harder, tears stinging my eyes.

“Stay with me, please, Damien, stay with me, please…”

His hand, shaking but strong, found my cheek. He tried to smirk, but his lips were pale.

“You’re… panicking,” he muttered, breath shallow.

“Of course I’m panicking!” I shouted through a sob. “You’re bleeding out!”

“Not out,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering. “Not yet.”

I clutched him tighter, pressing my forehead against his.

“Don’t you dare leave me. You hear me? Don’t you fucking dare—”

His eyes slipped shut.

I screamed his name.

The sirens of the hospital weren’t far now, but to me it felt like a lifetime. Every second, every drop of blood was dragging him away from me, and all I could do was hold on and pray.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the ER. The doors burst open before the driver even fully stopped, men in scrubs rushing toward us.

“Gunshot wound, lower abdomen!” one shouted, as hands grabbed Damien from me.

“No! Wait—” My voice cracked, and I clung tighter, but they pulled him from my arms. Blood smeared across my shirt, my hands, my face. My world.

“Sir, we need you to let go!”

I stumbled back, gasping for breath as Damien’s body was lifted onto a gurney. His head lolled, eyes half-shut, his lips pale but still… still alive. Please, God, still alive.

“Damien!” I shouted, my voice breaking. My legs moved without my permission, chasing after them as they wheeled him inside. “Damien, don’t leave me!”

Strong hands caught me, pulling me back. One of Damien’s men. I struggled, my fists slamming against his chest.

“Let me go! I have to be with him!”

“You can’t go in,” the man said firmly, though his eyes softened with pity. “They need to work on him. If you go in now, you’ll only make it harder.”

“I don’t care!” I screamed. My chest felt like it was caving in. “I can’t, I can’t just stand here. Please….” I begged.

But the gurney vanished through swinging doors, and suddenly there was nothing left to fight.

I collapsed onto the hard hospital chair, shaking. My hands were covered in blood, his blood, and no matter how much I rubbed them against my jeans, it wouldn’t come off.

It felt like it was seeping into my skin, into my bones.

Tears blurred my vision, hot and uncontrollable. My chest heaved as I pressed both hands against my face.

“Please,” I whispered, over and over like a mantra. “Please, don’t take him from me. Please, not him. Not Damien.”

The clock on the wall ticked loud, every second dragging like an eternity. Nurses rushed past, doors slammed, voices called codes I didn’t understand. None of it mattered.

My world was behind those double doors, bleeding out on a table.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, minutes, hours. Every time the doors swung open, I jolted up, desperate for news. But no one came for me.

When finally a doctor appeared, pulling off bloodied gloves, my knees nearly gave out.

“Are you family?” he asked.

My throat closed. Family. What was I? What could I say? My voice barely made it out.

“I… I’m with him. Please. Just tell me—”

The doctor’s expression was grave, but not hopeless.

“The bullet missed major arteries, but it was close. He lost a lot of blood. We’ve stabilized him for now, but he needs rest and monitoring. He’s strong, stronger than most. That’s in his favor.”

I gasped, covering my mouth. Relief crashed into me so hard it felt like I might collapse.

“He’s… alive?”

“Yes. Alive.”

The world spun, and I nearly fell back into the chair, my body trembling. Tears burned my eyes, but this time they were mixed with something sharp, blinding, hope.

“Can I see him?” I begged.

The doctor hesitated, then nodded. “He’s sedated, but you can stay with him.”

They led me into a quiet room where Damien lay pale against white sheets, machines beeping steadily.

Tubes, bandages, blood transfusions, it all made him look smaller, weaker. Not the Damien Silviero the world feared. Just… mine.

I sank into the chair by his bed, grabbing his hand and holding it tight.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

His chest rose and fell, steady but shallow. His fingers twitched faintly against mine, and I swore I saw the ghost of a smirk tug at his lips.

I bent over, pressing my forehead to his hand, and let the tears come. For once, I didn’t care who saw.

Chapter 41 - Visitor

I woke up dizzy, my head pounding like I’d been drugged. At first, everything was quiet, too quiet.

Then I caught it. Footsteps. Measured, deliberate, too sharp to belong in a hospital hallway. My whole body tensed.

When I opened my eyes, I nearly jumped out of the chair. Men in black suits stood like shadows at every corner of the room.

Some carried guns low at their sides, others pressed fingers to earpieces, murmuring into hidden mics. Their eyes scanned everything, door, windows, even me, like the world outside was still burning.

My throat went dry. “I—I’m sorry, what’s happening?” I asked, my voice breaking in the stillness.

One of them glanced down briefly. “We’re Mr. Silviero’s’s security detail, sir. The perimeter is secured, but we can’t lower our guard yet.”

Secured. But not safe. Not really.

I let out a shaky breath, sinking back into the chair, but my chest still felt like it was splitting open.

My eyes found Damien in the bed, pale and unmoving, machines keeping rhythm for him. He looked like marble carved too perfectly, too still.

I reached for his hand, clutching it tight, desperate for warmth.

“You better wake up now,” I whispered, my forehead pressing against his knuckles. “Or else I’ll… I’ll find someone more handsome than you.”

A hollow joke. My voice cracked halfway, and I almost laughed at myself for being pathetic. But then,

I felt it.

A twitch beneath my palm.

My head shot up. “Damien?”

Another twitch, firmer. Then his hand curled around mine, squeezing like he’d never let go again.

“Damien!” My voice rose, panicked and hopeful all at once. “Doctor,…doctor!”

The room exploded with movement. The doctor and two nurses rushed in, weaving around Damien’s men, who didn’t even flinch, their weapons angled toward the door as if expecting an ambush right here in the hospital.

The doctor’s hands moved fast, checking vitals, murmuring orders. After what felt like forever, he looked at me.

“He’s stable. He just needs rest, food, and time. He’s past the worst of it.”

Stable. The word nearly undid me. I sagged forward, tears stinging my eyes, my hand still glued to Damien’s.

When the doctor left, silence returned, but not peace. His men’s earpieces still buzzed. One muttered, “Negative, nothing yet. Keep scanning rooftops.”

Another shifted by the window, weapon ready.

Danger hadn’t passed. It was only circling.

I leaned closer to Damien, brushing his cheek with trembling fingers.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

His eyes fluttered open, hazy, but when they landed on me, something softened. His voice was gravel but steady.

“I could never leave you. Not when you said you’d find a new boyfriend.”

I let out a strangled laugh, half-sob.

“You… you survived just to keep me?”

“Yes. I’d fight satan if he refuses to let me crawl back to you.” His answer was low, unhesitant, like a vow. He reached for my face, rough fingers brushing away a tear. Then his gaze shifted—and darkened. “Kyle… what is this? Are you okay?”

I followed his eyes. Blood. Faint stains on my shirt.

His jaw clenched. His voice hardened instantly, carrying the weight of command.

“Get him new clothes. Now.”

One of the suited men immediately moved to obey.

I shook my head, tears spilling faster.

“Damien, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. You, look at you. You protected me and I’m unharmed, but look at what they did to you.” My words broke apart, trembling, raw.

His thumb swiped across my cheek, catching my tears.

“I’ll never let them touch you. Not while I’m breathing. Only I can.”

I choked on a laugh, half-scolding. “Don’t joke like that!”

But he smirked faintly, like even near death he couldn’t resist. His hand tightened on mine. “Sleep beside me.”

I glanced at the room full of armed men, their gazes sharp, their posture unyielding.

“Damien, there are men watching—”

“Let them,” he cut me off, eyes narrowing, daring anyone in the room to defy him.

My heart twisted. “I’ll… after I shower. I smell like smoke and blood.”

His lips curved, faint but stubborn.

“Good. Then I’ll know you’re really here. I want to smell you.”

I laughed despite the fear knotting in my stomach. God, he was insane. The world outside was still hunting him, maybe hunting us both. And yet all he cared about was keeping me close.

And I couldn’t let go.

I slid onto the bed carefully, terrified of hurting him, though the doctor swore he was stable.

“Damien, is this really okay?”

“It’s okay, baby.”

Damien’s men didn’t move, didn’t blink, but I could feel their eyes on me like lasers. My chest burned with embarrassment, but I ignored it.

Damien’s hand was still locked with mine, and letting go wasn’t an option.

The room was dim, shadows stretching long across the walls. I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat. Steady. God, it felt like the only sound keeping me alive.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep. The silence wasn’t really silence, his men were always murmuring, their voices clipped, tense.

“Sector four still clear.”

“No movement on rooftops.”

“Keep eyes on the east stairwell.”

Every word reminded me that danger wasn’t gone. It was waiting, watching.

I tightened my grip on Damien’s hand, terrified he’d slip away again.

“You’re safe,” I whispered like a prayer. “You have to be.”

Then, his voice. Low, hoarse, but sharp. “Report.”

I jerked, pulling back to look at him. His eyes were open now, glassy but alert.

Immediately, the nearest man straightened.

“Sir, perimeter is sealed. We’ve doubled rotations. But… there’s suspicion the shooters had inside information.”

Damien’s jaw tensed, even in his weakened state. “Who?”

“Still under investigation, sir.”

Damien exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing, and even half-dead he radiated authority.

“Find them. No one betrays me and walks away breathing.”

A shiver ran down my spine. His voice was steel, absolute. For a moment, he wasn’t just Damien, the man who kissed me breathless and laughed at my stupid jokes. He was Damien the billionaire, the man people feared.

I squeezed his hand harder, grounding myself.

“You should be resting, not…” My throat closed. “…planning revenge.”

His eyes shifted to me, softer now.

“Kyle. Rest is a luxury. Keeping you alive isn’t.”

I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes again.

He smirked faintly, lifting my hand to his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that. I told you, I’ll never let them touch you. I’d burn the world before that happens.”

Around us, his men stayed stone-faced, listening to their orders, scanning every shadow.

But all I could feel was his grip on me, the warmth in his gaze, and the terrifying realization that his love came hand in hand with war.

---

I thought the worst was over. Damien was breathing, sleep soundly and looking tired.

His hand warm in mine, and though the machines hummed like angry insects, he was alive. That should’ve been enough.

But the air in the room never eased. His men were statues, guns low but ready, earpieces crackling with whispers I tried not to hear.

Every time the door clicked from the hallway, my heart jumped like a gunshot.

So when the door finally opened, I thought it was just another nurse.

It wasn’t.

The woman who slipped in didn’t belong here. No scrubs. No clipboard. A slim trench coat, red lips, hair sleek as glass. She smiled at me like we were sharing a secret.

Sofia.

My blood turned to ice.

The nearest guard reacted instantly, gun raised, but she lifted her hands, mocking innocence.

“Relax. If I wanted him dead, he wouldn’t still be breathing.”

Her eyes cut to Damien. He was asleep again, his chest rising steadily. My grip on his hand tightened until my knuckles went white.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, panic clawing my throat.

“To see you,” she said smoothly, her voice like poison wrapped in silk. “We didn’t get to finish our little conversation.”

I stood, blocking her view of Damien. My voice trembled, but I forced the words out.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re not supposed to be anywhere near him.”

She tilted her head, smile widening.

“And yet, here I am. Your lover’s fortress of men, and I walked right in. That should tell you something, Kyle.”

One of the guards barked, “Leave. Now.”

But she ignored him, her eyes locked on me.

“Think about it. You really believe Damien can protect you forever? Tonight it was his blood. Next time, it could be yours. Or your mother’s.”

My stomach dropped. My mother. She said it again, the same cruel reminder from the café. My hands shook.

Sofia stepped closer, slipping something from her coat pocket. Not a gun, a checkbook. Blank pages, signed at the bottom.

“The offer still stands. Go abroad. Take care of her. Take care of yourself. All you have to do is walk away.”

The guards moved forward, but I was already frozen. Her words crawled under my skin like fire ants.

My mother hooked up to dialysis. Damien still wounded and weak, his body stitched and broken because of me.

I couldn’t breathe.

Sofia leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear.

“Think carefully. He’s willing to die for you. But are you willing to kill for him?”

Before I could answer, Damien stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. Sofia’s eyes flicked to him once more, sharp and knowing, before she smirked and let the guards shove her toward the door.

Her perfume lingered long after she was gone.

I sank back into the chair, clutching Damien’s hand like it was the only thing anchoring me to this world. My chest ached, my head spun.

Sofia’s words wouldn’t leave me.

If I wanted him dead, he wouldn’t still be breathing.

Think carefully. He’s willing to die for you. But are you willing to kill for him?

I looked at Damien, pale but alive, and a terrifying thought gripped me.

Maybe I wasn’t just in love with him. Maybe I was already drowning in his war.

I sat frozen long after the door shut behind her, the echo of her heels still ringing in my ears. The guards had pushed her out, but too easily. Too clean.

Like she wanted to be caught.

My chest felt tight, my pulse still racing. I could still smell her perfume in the sterile air, like it was mocking me.

I looked at Damien. He was out again, his breathing heavy, his lips parted slightly.

He didn’t even know she’d been here. He didn’t see her eyes, didn’t hear the way she said my mother’s name.

I swallowed hard, clutching his hand so tight I worried I’d hurt him.

No. I couldn’t tell him. Not like this.

He was barely holding himself together, and if he knew Sofia had slipped through his fortress of men?

He’d tear the whole hospital apart to find the traitor. He’d bleed himself dry all over again.

And maybe worse, he’d look at me differently. Wonder if I had let her in. Wonder if I was weak.

The guard closest to the bed glanced at me, maybe sensing how pale I’d gone.

“She won’t get near again, sir. We’ll tighten the perimeter.”

I nodded quickly, pretending to believe him. “Y-yeah. Okay. And, can you not tell Damien yet? I’ll be the one to tell him. When he wakes up.“ He just nodded to me.

But the knot in my stomach didn’t ease. If Sofia could walk in once, she could do it again.

I leaned back, brushing Damien’s hair off his forehead with shaking fingers. He didn’t stir. He trusted me enough to sleep beside me, and yet here I was, keeping secrets.

“I won’t let her touch you,” I whispered, the words fierce even though my voice trembled. “Not you, not Mom… no one. I’ll… I’ll figure it out.”

The thought terrified me. Because the only way to stop Sofia might be stepping into Damien’s world completely.

And that meant blood.

I pressed my forehead against his shoulder, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping me from breaking apart.

But Sofia’s voice kept echoing in my head. Again and again.

He’s willing to die for you. But are you willing to kill for him?

I shut my eyes tight, wishing I could erase her words. But deep down, I knew the truth.

The war wasn’t outside the hospital. It was already here, coiled inside me.

The third morning felt different.

The first two days had been all fear and restless waiting, but when sunlight spilled through the blinds this time, Damien was sitting up against the pillows.

Color had returned to his face, and though the bandages still peeked from under his hospital gown, he looked more like himself, more like the man who used to smirk at me all the time.

And God, he was smiling. At me.

“Good morning, troublemaker.” His voice was still hoarse, but it was warm.

I froze in the doorway, coffee trembling in my hand. Just hearing him speak so easily felt like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

I set the cup down and went to him immediately, trying to look composed even though my chest was about to burst.

“You shouldn’t be sitting up,” I scolded softly, adjusting the blanket around him.

He caught my wrist, his grip firmer than I expected. “I’m not made of glass.”

“You’re stitched up in three places.”

“Then I’ll hold myself together for you.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me, though it cracked into something like a sob. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him like I’d never get enough.

He reached out, brushing my hair back, his thumb grazing my temple.

“You look worse than me,” he murmured. “Did you even sleep?”

“Some,” I lied. Truth was, every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sofia’s smile, her red lips whispering threats.

Damien’s brow furrowed. “You’re pale. And you’re still in the same clothes.” He frowned at the faint blood stain on my sleeve. “Kyle… why haven’t you changed?”

I forced a smile. “Because I’ve been too busy watching over you.”

It worked. His expression softened, and he tugged me closer until I was practically in his arms.

His breath warmed my ear as he whispered, “Don’t you know? It’s supposed to be the other way around. I’m the one who protects you.”

The words made my chest ache. If only he knew.

I buried my face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him, and prayed he couldn’t hear how fast my heart was racing.

Don’t think about her. I told myself. Don’t think about what she said.

But Sofia’s words clawed back anyway.

He’s willing to die for you. But are you willing to kill for him?

I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging tighter to Damien as if I could push the memory away. He mistook it for affection and chuckled softly, kissing the top of my head.

“Stay here with me,” he murmured. “The world can wait.”

For a moment, I wanted to believe him. Wanted to let myself drown in the warmth of his arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

But beneath it all, I carried the weight of her voice, her threats, her checkbook.

Damien was recovering. He was stronger by the day. And I… I was breaking.

Chapter 42 - Familiar

The elevator ride up felt suffocating, not because of the steel box itself, but because of the weight in my chest.

I kept replaying Sofia’s voice in my head like a curse I couldn’t shake. I hadn’t told Damien. I couldn’t. Not yet.

When the doors slid open and I followed him inside the penthouse, the familiarity clawed at me.

Every corner carried memories, his cologne lingering in the leather, the faint shine of the marble floors, the city lights pouring through the glass wall.

Nostalgia was dangerous, but I let it take me anyway.

I helped him ease down onto the couch, his body still fragile despite his sharp tongue and stubborn pride.

“Careful, Damien. Don’t strain yourself.” I warned.

He winced once, but then his smirk replaced it as if nothing could touch him. I slipped into the kitchen, pulling out coffee beans, and grinding it in his coffee machine I thought I’d abandoned months ago.

When I placed the steaming cup in his hands, his smile was boyish, unguarded.

“I thought you threw it away?”

“Yeah. But I picked it up and placed it here instead.”

He sipped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his lips curved.

“I missed this… the same way I missed you.” His eyes found mine, lingering, hungry. “You have no idea how badly I want to make love to you right now. Right here. But…” His smirk deepened. “I’m afraid I might not give you the performance you deserve.”

“Stop it,” I muttered, heat crawling up my neck.

But Damien being Damien, his hand slipped around my waist, squeezing, pulling me closer until his fingers trailed up my nape.

His kiss landed hard, urgent, messy, starved. His mouth swallowed every protest I tried to form, and for a moment, I forgot he was supposed to be resting.

I gave in.

I matched him, though his intensity overwhelmed me, his lips punishing, his tongue demanding.

I pressed my palm against the bulge straining in his slacks. His growl vibrated in my mouth, deep and guttural, as I worked at his belt with one hand.

The metal buckle clinked, leather sliding free until I tugged it loose.

He groaned when my fingers slipped inside, when I unzipped his pants and freed him. Hot. Hard. Heavy in my hand. His hand gripped my ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.

“Fuck, Kyle,” he hissed into my mouth as I stroked him slow, teasing, letting my thumb circle his slick tip.

I picked up the pace, stroking faster. His growls turned rougher, his breaths ragged. Then I pulled away from his kiss, sinking to my knees before him.

“Keep going, baby,”

His eyes darkened, watching me with that intoxicating mix of command and awe.

I dragged my tongue across his tip, tasting salt and heat. His head tipped back against the couch, a broken moan spilling from him. I licked slow, then opened my mouth wider, taking him in.

“Shit…” His hand gripped the backrest, knuckles white, the other sliding into my hair.

I pushed deeper, gagging but refusing to stop, sucking harder, faster, until I felt his cock hit the back of my throat.

My hands stroked the length I couldn’t swallow, working in rhythm with my mouth.

His moans turned into harsh groans, his voice cracking with every breath. He guided me, holding my head, hips jerking helplessly beneath me.

I gagged again, tears stinging the corners of my eyes, but the sound only pushed him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, baby… you’re killing me,” he growled, voice strained.

I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder until I felt his entire body tense, his muscles drawn tight like a bowstring. His groan was guttural, torn from his chest, when he came.

Hot, thick release filled my mouth, spilling against my tongue, and I swallowed, every drop.

When I pulled back, licking my lips, his eyes locked on me with something primal, dangerous. He looked ready to lose control all over again.

“You swallowed…” His voice broke into a low, incredulous laugh, followed by a sharp inhale. He looked wrecked, sweat dotting his forehead, chest heaving. “Fuck, Kyle. You’ll be the death of me.”

I smiled faintly, sitting back on my heels, my lips still tingling from him.

“Then at least it’ll be a good way to go.”

For the first time since the hospital, Damien looked alive, burning, hungry, and mine.

I forced myself to pull away before he tempted me further. His chest was rising too fast, and the thought of him tearing open his stitches jolted me back to reality.

“Lie down,” I told him, my voice firmer than I felt.

He smirked lazily, still basking in the aftermath.

“You’re bossy when you’re worried.”

“Shut up.” I guided him to stretch out on the couch, tugging his shirt up enough to unwrap and check his bandage.

His skin was warm under my fingertips, his abs flexing whenever I touched him.

The wound wasn’t raw anymore, just a dull mark of healing. No bleeding. Relief washed through me.

I rewrapped it carefully, my hands slow, cautious, as if I could protect him from every danger in the world.

When I finished, I looked up, and found him staring at me like I was the only thing left worth living for.

“You done?” he asked, his voice rough but soft at the same time.

“Yeah. For now.”

“Good.” His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist, pulling me onto him before I could react.

“Damien!” I warned.

But his mouth crashed against mine again, hungry, desperate, alive. His hands slid beneath my shirt, dragging it up over my head until it landed somewhere on the floor.

My protests died in his kiss. I’d lost count of how many times I told myself to stop, but the truth was, I didn’t want to.

This time, he was slower. Careful, yes, but deliberate. His hands cupped my face, my jaw, like he wanted to memorize me.

His lips traced from my mouth to my throat, sucking gently enough not to leave marks, but hard enough to make my body ache for more.

“You think I can’t take care of you just because of this?” he muttered against my skin, his fingers brushing over his bandaged side before trailing down to grip my hips.

“You shouldn’t be moving too much—”

“Then don’t make me do the work,” he interrupted with a crooked grin. His hand slipped between us, finding the button of my jeans. “Ride me instead.”

My breath hitched, heat spiraling low in my stomach. He wasn’t joking. His pupils were blown wide, his voice thick with want.

I straddled him carefully, mindful of his wound, but the moment my weight settled on his lap, his cock pressed against me through the thin fabric of my jeans, hard and demanding.

He groaned, his head tipping back, fingers digging into my thighs.

I rocked against him, slow at first, just enough friction to make us both gasp. His lips parted, whispering my name like a prayer.

“Kyle…” His voice broke, raw and low. “Take it off. I need you.”

I obeyed, fumbling with my jeans until they slid down my legs. He pushed his own pants further down, freeing himself again, thick and throbbing against his stomach.

I positioned myself above him, my hands braced on his chest.

His eyes locked on mine, burning, pleading. “Now. Ride me like a good boy.”

I sank down onto him, slow, careful. His groan rumbled deep in his chest, his fingers gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. The stretch burned, but the fullness… it was perfect.

I moved, rolling my hips gently at first, then faster when his eyes fluttered shut and curses spilled from his lips.

Every thrust dragged another sound from him, moans, growls, broken gasps. He wasn’t just feeling me, I felt like he was worshipping me.

“Fuck! You feel so good,” he rasped, his head pushing back against the couch. “Don’t stop. Faster.”

I leaned forward, capturing his mouth again, swallowing his sounds as my rhythm quickened. His hand slid up my back, holding me close, his lips trembling against mine.

I wanted him undone. I wanted him alive. I wanted him mine.

The tension built fast, unbearable. His teeth grazed my bottom lip as his hips jerked up to meet mine, deeper, harder despite his wound. My body tightened, spiraling out of control.

“Damien, I’m close!”

“Come for me, baby,” he demanded, his voice breaking.

And I did. My release ripped through me, blinding, shattering, and the sight of me falling apart on top of him dragged him over the edge too.

His body tensed, his groan muffled in my mouth as he spilled inside me, holding me down against him until we were both trembling, shaking, spent.

We collapsed together, tangled, sweaty, breathless. He brushed my hair back from my damp forehead, his smile soft and devastating.

“You were worth coming home for,” he whispered.

I swallowed hard, pressing my face into his neck. For a moment, everything felt safe. Whole.

Damien’s suit jacket slid over his broad shoulders with practiced ease, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the bandages hidden beneath. Every move he made seemed too rushed, too careless for someone still healing.

“Where are you going?” My voice cracked with worry.

His gaze flicked toward me in the mirror, sharp, unreadable. “Business.”

“You’re not even fully healed!” My chest tightened. Images of him collapsing in my arms at the market flashed through me, vivid and merciless.

“What if they… what if they come for you again?”

Damien turned, his jaw tense. “Kyle, stay here. I’ll come back. This isn’t something you need to see.”

“No.” The word tore out of me before I could think. My fists balled at my sides. “Wherever you go, I go. You don’t get to push me out of this.”

His eyes darkened, that mix of frustration and something softer. For a moment, I thought he’d argue. But instead, he exhaled, a heavy sigh that seemed to drag the room down with it.

“I know who leaked our location during the shooting.”

The words punched the air out of me.

“Then I’m definitely coming,” I said, my voice shaking but firm.

Damien’s brows drew together, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He muttered a curse under his breath, then pulled out his phone.

“Double the bodyguards. I want eyes on every corner.”

Minutes later, we were in the car, his men surrounding us like shadows. My palms were damp, heart pounding as the city blurred past.

The convoy stopped in front of a warehouse on the edge of nowhere, its walls rusting, its windows black like watchful eyes.

Inside, the air smelled of oil and dust. Footsteps echoed as we were led down a narrow hall into a stark room. One man stood in the center, his back to us.

Something about the way he held himself, the rigid shoulders, the calmness made my stomach twist. This wasn’t some hired gun. This was someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Someone dangerous.

Damien’s jaw tightened beside me, every step forward a coil of restrained violence. My nerves screamed, every instinct telling me to turn and run, but my feet carried me closer.

Damien’s hand clamped on my arm the moment my knees gave out. My breath lodged in my throat as the name tore out of me before I could stop it.

The man turned slowly, the fluorescent light overhead flickering against his face.

“D-Dominic?”

Those eyes, I knew them. Soft, sincere, calculating, but they had once been familiar. Comforting.

Now they looked like a stranger’s.

Dominic smirked. “Took you long enough.”

My heart pounded so loud I thought it would burst. Memories crashed in waves.

Dominic laughing with me, Dominic pulling baking pasties, Dominic standing by me when no one else would. And now… him, standing here, the one who leaked our location, the reason Damien almost died.

I couldn’t breathe. “Why?” My voice cracked.

Dominic’s smirk deepened, but his eyes flicked to Damien, cold and venomous.

“Because he took everything, Kyle. Everything that was supposed to be mine.”

Damien finally spoke, his voice sharp as a blade. “You tried to kill me. You nearly got Kyle killed.”

Dominic’s stare slid back to me, lingering, almost soft. “I’d never hurt you.”

I flinched, and Damien immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me from that gaze.

His men in black suits filled the corners of the room, tense, their fingers brushing the triggers of their guns, waiting for Damien’s command.

But Damien didn’t move yet. His hand hovered close to mine, steadying me without forcing.

“Say the word,” he murmured to me, though his eyes never left Dominic.

I couldn’t. My mouth was dry, my body frozen. This was Dominic. My Dominic. My best friend.

And yet… he was also the man who’d betrayed us.

Damien’s shoulders straightened, his calm mask cracking into something lethal.

“Dominic, you just signed your own death warrant.”

The room bristled with danger, every second stretched razor-thin.

I swallowed, my pulse racing so hard it hurt. “Damien, wait—”

Because deep down, I wasn’t sure what terrified me more, that Damien would pull the trigger, or that Dominic still had the power to break me with nothing but my name on his lips.

Chapter 43 - Human

Damien’s hand was steady, the gun fixed on Dominic’s head. One twitch of his finger and it would all be over.

But Dominic only sat there, smirking, like the barrel pressed against his skull was nothing but a joke.

“Chair,” Damien barked.

Two of his men moved instantly, dragging Dominic down and forcing him into the metal seat. Rope bit into his wrists as they tied him down, tight enough to cut circulation. There was no escape, he was caged prey.

Still, he grinned.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but I reached for Damien anyway, fingers curling over his gun arm. Slowly, gently, I lowered it, forcing him to look at me instead of Dominic.

“D-Damien, please,” my voice cracked. “L-Let me talk to him…”

His head snapped toward me, eyes blazing. “No. Never. I’m not letting you within reach of that snake.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his fury. “I’ll just talk. Please.”

“No.” His tone was final, steel and fire. “I won’t risk it.”

Desperate, I clutched his hand tighter.

“Then watch me. Don’t let me out of your sight. Just… let me hear it from him.”

His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body coiled like a loaded spring. But after a long beat, he gave one stiff nod.

Damien retreated to the corner, his gun never lowering, his gaze cutting between me and Dominic like he could kill with his eyes alone.

I turned. My legs felt weak, every step toward Dominic like crossing into fire.

“D-Dom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Why?”

My hands hovered uselessly in the air, shaking. I didn’t know where to put them. Didn’t know how to hold myself together.

Dominic’s eyes softened, only for me.

“Kyle… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. You just… you got caught up in this because of him.”

“No,” my throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “Tell me what happened. Everything.”

Dominic hesitated. His smirk cracked for the first time, his face shadowed by something darker.

“I’m dead either way. So fine. I’ll tell you.”

I nodded, my chest aching. “I’m listening.”

His eyes flicked past me briefly, to Damien, and his jaw clenched with venom before snapping back to me.

“He stole from me, Kyle. Damien took the deal that was supposed to be mine. It was the only chance my father would’ve ever looked at me like a son. And he,” Dominic’s voice cracked, raw with hate, “…he ripped it away like it was nothing.”

My stomach twisted.

“And me?” I whispered. “Getting close to me… was that just part of it too?”

Dominic’s expression shattered. “No. Never.” His voice broke on the word. “I swear to God, Kyle, you were never supposed to be involved.”

I shook my head, my body trembling.

“When I found out Sofia’s family was targeting Damien, I joined them. I thought, I thought I’d finally have my revenge. I didn’t know… I didn’t know they’d make it about you.”

His words sliced me open.

“It was already too late,” he went on, voice cracking. “When I realized the reason they wanted Damien broken was you . Because you were with him. Because you were the one thing that made him weak.”

My chest burned.

“At first, I thought I could use you, hold Damien by the neck because of you. But then, ” his eyes locked on mine, raw and desperate, “…I fell for you. I loved you, Kyle. I love you still.”

The words hit like a physical blow.

“They told me, if I killed Damien, you’d be mine. And I’d finally be CEO, finally worthy of my father. I let them poison me. Manipulate me. But I never wanted you hurt.” His voice dropped, soft, pleading. “Only him.”

Something inside me snapped.

My palm whipped across his face with a crack that echoed in the hollow warehouse. His lip split, blood seeping down his chin.

“I trusted you,” I choked, tears burning hot in my eyes. “You were my friend, Dom. You used me. Friends don’t do that!”

He spat blood to the floor, then looked back at me, a twisted mix of pain and obsession in his eyes.

“You don’t understand. Damien ruined my life! And now he’s ruining this too. Even when I love you, Kyle, he has to take you away, too.”

“Motherfucker!”

Damien’s growl thundered across the room, his gun cocking. The tension snapped taut, a single breath away from bloodshed.

And I… I stood between them, my heart shattering, wondering how the two people who meant the most to me had turned into this war.

Damien’s hand was steady, the black metal of the gun pressed against Dominic’s temple.

My stomach twisted. The room felt too small, the air too heavy. Every second that ticked by, I thought Damien would pull the trigger.

My feet moved before my head caught up.

“D-Damien…” My voice cracked as I stumbled closer. Then I threw my arms around him, holding his body as tight as I could, pressing my face against his chest. “Please. Don’t. Don’t do this. Don’t dirty your hands.”

I could feel his muscles tense, his jaw locking. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The gun was still raised.

My tears blurred my vision.

“Please, Damien! I-I don’t want anyone to die! I don’t want you to live with this. Let the authorities handle him. Please. Justice will come that way.”

For a moment, silence. His heartbeat thundered against my ear.

Then slowly, the gun lowered. I heard the metal click as he set the safety. His breath came out ragged.

“Kyle…” Damien’s voice was hoarse, almost broken. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby.”

I shook my head against him. “I was so scared… I thought you were going to…” My voice broke again, a sob slipping out.

He tightened his hold on me, shielding me with his body like the world could never touch me again. Then he pulled his phone out, his tone shifting back to the calm CEO mask.

“Send the police. Now.”

Minutes later, the place swarmed with officers. They untied Dominic, shoved him to the ground, handcuffed him.

But Dom still had the audacity to look at me. His lip was bleeding from where I slapped him earlier, but his eyes burned.

“Kyle…” his voice was raw, almost desperate. “You need to stay away from him. Do you hear me? If you stay with Damien, you’ll get killed too. Walk away now before it’s too late.”

I froze. My breath hitched, but Damien’s arms immediately wrapped around me again, blocking Dom from my view.

“Don’t you dare speak his name again,” Damien growled at Dom, voice like venom.

The police dragged Dominic out, his words echoing in my head. Stay away from Damien. Or you’ll get killed too.

My knees weakened, the weight of it all crashing down on me. Damien caught me before I fell, sweeping me up into his arms like I weighed nothing.

“Got you,” he whispered against my hair. “I’ve got you, Kyle. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I buried my face in his chest, sobbing quietly. His steady steps carried me out of that hellhole, his scent surrounding me, grounding me.

Back at the penthouse, Damien laid me gently on the bed. His hands moved carefully, almost trembling as he brushed the hair away from my damp cheeks.

He looked at me like I was fragile glass, like one wrong move and I’d break into pieces.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered. His thumb traced the curve of my cheek. “Rest, baby. I’ll be here. Always.”

I caught his hand, holding it to my chest. “Don’t… don’t ever do that again. Please. Promise me.”

Damien leaned down, his lips brushing my forehead softly. “I promise.” He kissed me again, this time on the corner of my cheek, lingering. “Sleep, Kyle. I’ll watch over you.”

His warmth surrounded me, his whispers sinking into my skin. Slowly, the storm inside me began to quiet.

---

I woke to a solid chest against my back, a steady heartbeat, and Damien’s arm locked around my waist like he’d guarded me the whole night.

When I blinked open, the first thing I saw was his face, those dark eyes fixed on me. He wasn’t asleep. He was watching me.

“Good morning,” he murmured, voice low.

I rubbed my eyes. “Were you… awake all night?”

He only smirked faintly. “Couldn’t sleep. Not when you were crying yourself to rest.” His thumb brushed under my eye, as if he could erase the redness.

I sat up a little, the sheets falling. “Damien…”

But before I could ask anything else, he sat up too, swinging his legs off the bed. He reached for his suit jacket.

“I have a meeting.”

That cold tone, that business mask again.

“Where?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

He adjusted his cufflinks. “With Sofia’s company. Her father, Conrado, will be there.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “What?”

He glanced at me in the mirror. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

“No.” I shot up, clutching the blanket around me. “I’m coming with you.”

His brows furrowed. “Kyle, it’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care.” My voice cracked, but I held my ground. “I don’t want to be left behind again. Not after everything. Take me with you.”

His jaw tightened. For a long moment, silence stretched between us. Then finally… he sighed, turning to face me.

“You’re impossible.”

But there was no anger in his voice. Just resignation. And maybe something softer.

“Fine,” he said. “You come. But you stay beside me the whole time. Understood?”

I nodded, my chest tightening.

---

The conference room was ice-cold, lined with steel and glass. Guards stood outside, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me.

Damien sat at the head of the table, sharp in his suit, every inch the ruthless billionaire. I sat to his right, my hands clenched under the table.

Across from us sat Sofia, arms crossed, her lips curled in disdain. Beside her is Conrado, her father. A powerful man, his presence filled the room. His glare was aimed straight at Damien, but every now and then, it flicked to me.

The meeting began with numbers, assets, presentations. But Damien wasn’t here to negotiate.

Finally, he leaned forward, voice calm but deadly. “STLX Co. will now be under Silviero Corp. Effective immediately.”

A heavy silence fell.

Conrado’s face twisted. “What nonsense is this?”

Damien’s gaze was scary.

“Your company has been bleeding for years. Damages, lawsuits, debts piling up. You’ve been hiding it, but numbers don’t lie. You have no other way to revive STLX. So I bought it. It’s mine now. And soon, it will be absorbed into Silviero Corp.”

“You—” Conrado shot up, slamming his hand on the table. “You think you can come here and steal what’s mine?!”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Damien said, voice low, lethal. “I bought what you couldn’t protect. STLX bled itself dry under your name. I just cleaned up the mess.”

“You arrogant bastard!” Conrado’s voice cracked with rage, echoing off the walls. His body shook as he pointed both hands at Damien, like claws desperate to tear him apart. “You will not take what’s mine! You hear me? You will regret this!”

Sofia gasped, eyes wide. “You bastard!”

But then Conrado’s finger jabbed in my direction. His face was red with fury.

“And you.”

I froze, my stomach twisting.

“You disgusting little faggot.” His voice dripped venom. “You think you belong in this world? You’re nothing but a weakness to him. You’ll be the death of him.”

The room went dead silent.

My chest tightened, my breath catching. I wanted to vanish into the floor.

But before I could even react, Damien slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jolt. He rose to his full height, eyes blazing.

“Don’t you fucking touch him with your words.” His voice was a roar, low and dangerous.

Conrado sneered. “Pathetic. Letting yourself be ruined by an animal.”

Before he could finish, Damien was already across the table. Chairs screeched, papers flew. Guards surged in, but Damien’s men blocked them.

Chaos erupted.

Damien grabbed Conrado by the collar, shoving him hard against the glass wall with enough force to crack it.

“Say that again,” Damien growled, his hand fisting Conrado’s tie. “Say one more fucking word about Kyle, and I swear I’ll bury you myself.”

Sofia screamed, trying to pull Damien off, but his rage was untouchable.

“Damien!” I cried, my voice breaking. I scrambled up, grabbing his arm. “Please, stop! Damien, don’t!”

His chest heaved, his knuckles white against Conrado’s shirt. Conrado’s face was pale now, but still sneering.

I tugged harder, my nails digging into Damien’s sleeve. “Please. Don’t do this. Not for me.”

For a moment, Damien didn’t move. His fury was fire, uncontrollable. But then his gaze flicked to me. He saw my trembling hands, my tears threatening again.

And slowly, he loosened his grip.

He shoved Conrado back into the wall, releasing him, his voice ice-cold.

“This isn’t over. STLX is mine now. And if you ever come near Kyle again… you won’t walk away. Remember, you have nothing now. And you will have to have my forgiveness before you get back even half of what you’ve lost.” Damien muttered.

The room was chaos. Shouts, slammed doors, guards rushing. But all I felt was Damien’s hand grabbing mine, pulling me close, shielding me again.

My chest heaved. My whole body was shaking.

Damien leaned down, whispering fiercely against my ear.

“Don’t listen to him. You’re not a weakness. You’re the only thing keeping me human.”

Chapter 44 - Free

After everything that happened, a week of rest felt like a prize I didn’t deserve. For Damien, it was probably just a pause between storms.

He never showed me the full weight of what he carried, never let me see the cracks. All I knew was that he was doing everything he could to fix the mess, to keep me safe, to keep us standing.

He didn’t even allow me to glimpse the stress in his eyes. Damien was too good at hiding it.

One night, I asked him quietly, “What if they try to shoot you again?”

He only smiled, fearless, and said, “They can try all they want. I’ll still come back to life just to save you.”

The words gutted me. Terrifying. Comforting. When he noticed the worry in my eyes, Damien kissed me. Firm, assuring, grounding me when I thought my chest would cave in from the fear.

But still, every phone call he answered pulled at me. Anxious. Restless. We couldn’t even leave the penthouse, it felt like a golden cage.

And yet… every day with him was strangely full. Cooking together. Watching old films. Him insisting I eat more.

He loved it, being with me, unbothered by the world outside, even just for a while.

One morning, I woke to the sound of his heavy breathing. Damien stood in the corner of the room, shirtless, his body slick with sweat after working out.

His chest heaved, abs glistening under the early light. When he saw me awake, he smirked and walked over, leaning down to kiss me.

I swerved away with a laugh. “You’re sweaty.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pretending to be offended. But I couldn’t help it, I reached out, fingers tracing the ridges of his abs, hot and damp under my touch.

My lips followed, brushing against his skin before I kissed him.

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t want me sweaty.”

“Maybe I do,” I whispered against his chest, smirking.

His laugh was low, husky. “So, do you like me more when I’m a farmer… or when I’m the CEO?”

I looked up at him, lips still brushing his skin. “Farmer.”

He stilled for half a second, then let out a soft, genuine chuckle. That was all it took for him to grab my face and crash his mouth to mine.

The kiss was rough, urgent, hungry, like he’d been holding back for too long. His hands pressed me into the mattress, pinning me there as his lips devoured mine.

“Damien…” I gasped when his mouth trailed down my jaw, hot and wet against my neck.

“You always tease me,” he growled softly, biting gently before soothing the mark with his tongue.

His hands roamed, gripping my waist, my thighs, sliding under my shirt to feel every inch of skin.

I tugged at his damp hair, pulling him back up to kiss me again. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m yours,” he whispered against my lips, before sliding his tongue past them, taking me completely.

The world outside didn’t matter. The threats didn’t matter. There was only Damien, sweaty and raw and impossibly mine.

He stripped me with an almost desperate need, every button undone with clumsy impatience. His mouth never stopped, claiming, worshipping, leaving trails of heat over my chest and stomach.

My back arched when he pressed his hips to mine, and I could feel how hard he already was.

“You feel that?” he rasped, pressing harder, making me groan. “That’s what you do to me, Kyle.”

I bit my lip, heat flooding my face. “Damien-”

“I wanna hear it, Kyle,” he demanded, voice rough.

“I want you.” My voice cracked with need. “Please.”

That single word broke him. He groaned, burying his face against my neck as he slid inside me, filling me completely.

The stretch was overwhelming, but it was Damien, solid, grounding, mine, and I clung to him, nails digging into his back.

“God, you’re perfect,” he panted, moving slowly at first, like he wanted to memorize every second.

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper. “Faster,” I begged.

His rhythm changed instantly, harder, hungrier, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. Each thrust knocked the air out of me, but I couldn’t stop moaning his name, over and over, like a prayer.

“Look at me,” he demanded, tilting my chin until our eyes met. His gaze burned into me, wild and tender all at once. “Don’t ever doubt how much I love you.”

“I don’t,” I whispered, even though a part of me still feared losing him.

He kissed me then, desperate, pouring everything into it, fear, passion, love, obsession.

And when we finally came undone, it was together, trembling and breathless, clutching onto each other like we were the only things left in the world.

After, Damien stayed on top of me, his weight comforting. He peppered soft kisses along my face before rolling to the side and pulling me against his chest.

My heartbeat was still racing, but his steadiness calmed me.

“Kyle,” he said quietly, brushing hair from my forehead. “Would you want to go overseas? While I’m patching things up here.”

I blinked up at him, confused. “What? Why?”

“Stress is bad for the baby.”

I froze. “…What baby?”

Damien smiled faintly, tightening his hold. “You. You’re the baby.”

My face burned instantly. “Damien…”

He didn’t even realize how much his words hit me. Maybe I wasn’t used to it yet, him being this soft, this careful with me.

Treating me like something precious when I’d spent so long believing I was disposable.

Maybe I just needed to believe him. That everything would be alright. That time would heal. That with Damien, somehow, I was safe.

And for the first time in weeks, I let myself close my eyes and believe it.

---

The car ride felt endless. Every red light stretched into eternity, every hum of the engine pressed heavier on my chest.

I kept tightening and loosening my grip on the lapel of my suit, like somehow I could squeeze the nerves out of me.

My reflection in the tinted glass showed a man who looked nothing like me, face pale, lips drawn tight, eyes wide and restless.

Damien sat beside me, too calm for the storm we were about to walk into. His posture was straight, his hands are calm, but I saw the way his jaw flexed, how his thumb brushed once, twice, against his thigh. Small tells. Signs that even Damien wasn’t made of stone.

“Are you ready?” His voice was quiet but commanding, like he already knew the answer and just wanted me to say it aloud.

I inhaled, shaky and uneven, trying not to choke on my own fear.

“Yes,” I whispered, then stronger, “Yes. I’m ready. If we delay this again, Damien… it won’t ever end. It’ll keep haunting us both.”

His eyes flicked toward me, and for a moment the world outside ceased to matter.

He didn’t smile, smiling wasn’t Damien’s way, but there was something in his gaze, a silent vow, a promise I had never been able to resist.

“If you’re afraid,” he said, “I’ll face them alone.”

I wanted to say yes. God, I wanted to let him carry the weight like he always did. But some part of me, buried deep, screamed not to run.

“No. I’ll do it with you.”

Something shifted in him. Approval. Pride. And maybe, just maybe, love.

The car slowed. The muffled roar outside became sharper, clearer: shouting voices, footsteps scraping against pavement, the metallic snap of cameras. My pulse spiked.

The second the door cracked open, chaos swallowed us whole.

Flashes blinded me. The air stank of sweat, perfume, hot electronics. Reporters surged forward like a tidal wave. Security pushed back, but it was like trying to hold back the ocean.

“Move!” one of our security personnel said.

Hands grabbed. Shoulders slammed. Someone shoved hard into my side, and panic surged as I stumbled, until Damien’s arm clamped firmly around me.

He pulled me flush against him, his chest like iron at my back.

“Enough!” His voice thundered, slicing clean through the cacophony. “If anyone lays a hand on him again, you’ll answer to me. This is my building, you’ll be thrown out before you can blink.”

The mob faltered, just slightly, as though cowed by the sharpness of his authority. But the pause didn’t last.

“Mr. Silviero, is it true you’re having an affair with this man?”

“Are you a couple?!”

“Why a man, Mr. Silviero?”

Each word was a blade. My mouth was dry as sand. My body screamed at me to stay silent, to let Damien fight this war alone. But he’d bled for me enough.

I forced the words out.

“It’s true,” I said, voice trembling, yet loud enough to pierce the frenzy. “I had a relationship with Damien. But I left. I thought he was already with someone else.”

Gasps. Murmurs. The cameras leaned closer, their red lights burning like fireflies.

Damien’s voice followed, steady as stone.

“And I wasn’t. Sofia was forced on me. Everything you’ve been told was a lie.”

The uproar doubled, questions crashing into each other.

“What about the child?!”

“You lived with her, didn’t you?”

“Are you denying your family?”

Damien’s jaw flexed, sharp with restrained fury.

“That child isn’t mine. It isn’t my story to tell. But if you keep attacking Kyle with your false accusations, I will not hesitate to reveal the truth myself.”

He held me tighter, fingers firm against my arm. He wasn’t just protecting me. He was staking his entire empire, his reputation, his power, on us.

“Then answer us this,” someone shouted over the others. “Are you in love?”

Time slowed. Cameras clicked. My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

“Yes.” Damien’s voice was unwavering. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. His eyes locked with mine, burning with the kind of certainty I had never dared to dream of. “I love Kyle. And only Kyle.”

For one dizzy second, it was just him and me. The crowd disappeared. The noise muted. And in its place was a truth so blinding, I almost broke apart under it.

Then—

“Lies!”

The crowd rippled. A sharp, venomous voice sliced through, and the press spun like vultures toward new prey.

Conrado. And Sofia.

They cut their way into the circle, Sofia’s heels clicking like gunfire, Conrado’s glare burning with fury.

“They’re liars!” Sofia shrieked, her face twisted into something unrecognizable. “Manipulators! They’ve fooled you all!”

The microphones swung toward her instantly. Questions ricocheted through the air.

But I couldn’t move. My body shook with adrenaline, every nerve screaming danger.

Damien, though, he didn’t budge. He stared at them like they were gnats, unworthy of his time.

His hand anchored me steady, silent reassurance thrumming through the chaos.

Sofia raged on, spitting accusations, venom dripping with every syllable. I flinched, heat burning behind my eyes. But Damien’s thumb brushed once over my knuckles.

And then everything snapped.

Conrado’s hand darted inside his jacket. The metallic glint caught the sunlight.

A gun.

The world fractured into frozen shards.

Reporters screamed, scattering like startled birds. My body locked, rooted to the ground.

The barrel rose. Aimed straight at Damien.

“No!” My voice cracked, desperate, but useless.

Damien moved instantly, yanking me behind him, his body a shield. The scent of his cologne, the heat of his chest, my only anchor in that heart-stopping moment.

The trigger clicked.

And the explosion I braced for never came.

Instead, a crackle of electricity tore the air. Conrado spasmed violently, the gun slipping from his grip and clattering across the ground.

“Drop your weapon!” officers barked, swarming him. Another taser hit, and he collapsed, limbs jerking uselessly.

Sofia screamed, lunging forward, but police caught her too.

“Conrado Alvarez, you are under arrest for attempted assassination,” one officer barked. Papers flashed. An arrest warrant. “Sofia Alvarez, you are under arrest as an accomplice.”

The crowd was bedlam, reporters shouting, cameras exploding in flashes, voices tumbling over each other in disbelief.

But I heard none of it.

I heard only my heartbeat.

He saved me. Again. Even when death itself stared him down, Damien’s first instinct had been to shield me.

My legs buckled, and I clutched at him, burying my face against his chest. My body shook with leftover terror.

“H-how…how did they know?”

Damien’s arm wrapped firm around me, holding me upright. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my temple, voice low but sure.

“Dominic. He gave them everything. Names. Plans. Evidence. The police were waiting.”

My breath hitched. Relief slammed into me so hard it hurt.

Dominic. The man I’d doubted. The man I thought lost to the same darkness as the rest of them.

The noise around us grew louder, reporters screaming Damien’s name, demanding statements, digging for blood.

Security moved to push them back, forming a barrier as officers dragged Sofia and Conrado away, thrashing and spitting curses.

But all I could do was cling to Damien, every muscle in my body trembling.

He bent his head close, his breath warm against my ear.

“It’s over, Kyle. It’s done. We’re free.”

And for the first time in what felt like years, I let myself believe him.

Chapter 45 - Where the Mountains Witnessed Us

I was done packing when I felt Damien’s stare burning into me. He didn’t even pretend to hide it, just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like I belonged to him.

“I didn’t pack your underwear,” I said, smirking as I zipped the bag. “Too lazy to help you.”

His grin spread slow, dangerous. He pushed off the wall and stopped inches from me.

“That’s alright,” he murmured, his voice low and heated, “…you’re going to take it off me anyway.”

My breath caught, and before I could reply, his lips crushed against mine. Hot. Hungry. Possessive.

“Damien—” I tried, but he swallowed the sound, pulling me into his lap so effortlessly I almost forgot to breathe.

His tongue tangled with mine, his hands gripping me tight, grounding me and undoing me all at once.

When his teeth sank into my neck, I moaned louder than I meant to.

“You—ah… you’re such an asshole…”

He chuckled against my skin, biting again just to hear me whimper.

“You love it.”

I hated that he was right. Every time he touched me, I melted. Every kiss set me on fire.

He stripped my shirt away, and I didn’t even think before ripping his off too, my palms roaming his chest, his abs, every hot, hard inch of him.

“Fuck,” I whispered against his lips, “why do you always make me lose control?”

“Because you’re mine,” he growled, pulling my hips down harder against the bulge straining in his pants.

I gasped, grinding against him helplessly. “Damien…”

He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Be ready for me.”

My whole body trembled. I didn’t even have time to respond before he lifted me and tossed me onto the bed.

My heart pounded as I watched him unbuckle his belt, slow, deliberate, like he knew I couldn’t look away.

“You’re staring,” he teased, tearing open the condom wrapper.

“Shut up,” I muttered, though my voice was already breaking with anticipation.

“You want me too much to deny it,” he said, sliding it on. His eyes burned into mine as he yanked my shorts down.

I barely had time to gasp before he hooked my legs over his shoulders and pushed inside.

“Oh, fuck, Damien!” My nails dug into the sheets, my back arching as he stretched me full.

He was so big, I couldn’t understand how he even fit, but the shock dissolved into pleasure as he started moving.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, gripping my thighs tight. “So fucking tight around me.”

His thrusts were deep, relentless, each one knocking the air out of my lungs.

“D–Damien! Slower, ah!”

He ignored me, his pace quickening, pounding into me until my moans filled the room.

“Say it,” he growled.

“Say what?” I gasped, barely holding on.

“Say you’re mine.” His eyes were wild, desperate, demanding.

“I- fuck! Damien, I’m yours!” I cried out, my body shaking under him. “Always yours!”

A guttural sound ripped from his throat, and he flipped me in one smooth motion, pressing my chest into the mattress, pulling my hips up.

He slammed into me from behind, harder, deeper, and I screamed his name.

“Damien! Oh my god! Don’t stop!”

He bent down, lips brushing my ear as he thrust into me.

“I’m not stopping until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

Tears pricked my eyes from the intensity, my body breaking apart under the force of him, but I didn’t care, I wanted more, I wanted everything.

When it was finally over, I collapsed, trembling, my face buried in the sheets. My whole body buzzed, spent and aching.

Beside me, Damien smirked, smug as hell. “Can you move?”

I groaned, shaking my head. “You bastard. I can’t even feel my legs.”

He laughed softly, pulling me against his chest. “Good. That means I did it right.”

Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t help but smile. Because as rough as he was, as much as he devoured me, I felt safe in his arms. And maybe that was the scariest, most dangerous part of all.

---

The morning after, we boarded our flight to Switzerland.

Damien had promised me this trip months ago, and now it was finally happening. Just the two of us. No board meetings, no company crises, no ghosts from the past clawing their way back into our lives.

It had been six months since Conrado was arrested, six months of rare, fragile peace. Damien had spent every one of those months fixing the mess, tying off every loose end, making sure nothing would come back to haunt us.

And now, finally, he was rewarding himself. Three months. A vacation that wasn’t just for him, it was for us.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him this… unburdened.

We landed in Zurich, and after the long flight, I thought we’d check into some hotel. But Damien surprised me, he rented a car. Of course he did.

And now we were on the road, winding through the kind of scenery I thought only existed in postcards.

My forehead was pressed to the window like a kid. I couldn’t sit still. Every five minutes, my mouth popped open before I could stop myself.

“Are we there yet?”

Damien didn’t even flinch, his hands relaxed on the wheel, his gaze fixed ahead.

“Not yet.”

Five minutes later: “How about now?”

“Still not yet,” he answered, his lips twitching.

I smirked. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” he said, chuckling. That rare, unguarded laugh of his, low, warm, like velvet wrapping around me.

I groaned dramatically, sinking into my seat. “You’re torturing me.”

“Patience, Reyes,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving. “Good things take time.”

The road bent along a valley, and my breath caught. Snow-capped mountains towered in the distance, their slopes lush and green lower down, dotted with wooden chalets and flower boxes bursting with color.

“Wow! This is heaven on earth!” I blurted.

Streams trickled beside us, shimmering like glass as the sunlight caught the water. Fields stretched wide, sprinkled with cows lazily grazing, their bells chiming faintly.

“Damien, this is beautiful!” I said, but when I turned, I caught him stealing glances at me like no mountain, no river, no sunset could ever compete with what he saw in me.

The air was crisp, clean, and it felt like every inhale washed away the weight I didn’t know I was carrying.

I must have said “wow” a dozen times. Damien glanced at me once more, and I swear there was pride in his eyes, like he’d built this whole country just to see me smile.

By the time we slowed to a stop, my heart was pounding. The house stood tall near the foot of the mountains, framed by trees and overlooking a river that moved like liquid silver under the sun.

Its glass walls reflected the view, making it feel like it belonged to the land rather than standing apart from it. It was quiet, serene, the kind of place where you could hear your own heartbeat.

“Damien…” My voice wavered as I stepped out of the car. “This house, it’s too much. I mean, it’s huge, and the view, the living expenses here must be—”

He turned sharply, his brow furrowing, lips pressed like I’d just insulted him.

“Afford it?” He scoffed. “Kyle, are you forgetting something?”

I blinked innocently. “What?”

“I’m a billionaire. Tss, I’d burn money just to keep you warm.”

The way he said it, half-serious, half-offended, sent me into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my god, I forgot. Mr. Billionaire,” I teased, bumping his shoulder.

He narrowed his eyes but his smirk gave him away. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” I shot back.

That smirk turned into a grin. “From the very first moment I met you, you had this attitude. Like you weren’t afraid of me when everyone else was.”

I looked at him then, my chest tightening.

“I wasn’t scared of you, Damien.” My hand brushed his, grounding us. “Because I knew. I knew I could tame the lion everyone else feared.”

Before he could respond, I leaned in and kissed him. Just a soft press of lips, but enough to make him grin against my mouth, pride and affection radiating from him.

The next few days blurred into something unreal.

Damien showed me Switzerland like it was a secret only he knew. He brought me to waterfalls that thundered like the heartbeat of the earth, where mist clung to our skin and laughter echoed louder than the roar.

He drove us to cliffs where we watched the sun bleed into the horizon, its gold and crimson fire setting the sky ablaze before surrendering to dusk.

He walked with me through meadows where wildflowers swayed, brushing against my fingertips as though they were alive, blooming just for us.

Everywhere we went, I kept thinking, I never thought I’d get this. Not with him. Not with anyone.

Back then, when I ran away, I thought it was over. That he’d let me go. That Damien Silviero would never chase someone like me.

But he did.

He found me. Even when I thought I didn’t deserve it, he stayed.

One afternoon, as we wandered behind the house, my gaze caught something on a nearby tree.

“Are those birds?”

Two lovebirds perched close together, one hopping along the branch, wings outstretched, dancing clumsily for the other, who watched with quiet delight.

“They’re beautiful,” I whispered, my chest swelling. I fumbled for my phone, snapping a picture.

My heart felt light, overflowing. Happiness felt foreign, but in that moment, it was real.

I turned, eager to show Damien. But the sight that greeted me made my whole body freeze.

Damien wasn’t standing.

He was kneeling.

Not on one knee. But both.

The grass cradled him as he bowed, a small velvet box in his hands. His eyes found mine, and I swore the world stilled.

There was no Switzerland, no meadow, no sky above us, just him, raw and unguarded. His gaze screamed yearning. Love. A desperate kind of longing that tore down every wall he had ever built.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

“D-Damien…” I whispered, my tears already blurring the view.

His voice was rough, breaking, but steady enough to slice through me.

“Kyle… baby, please. Marry me. Please.”

This wasn’t Damien Silviero, the man people feared, the man who could break empires with a single word. This wasn’t the untouchable billionaire with his cold stare and sharp tongue.

This was Damien, undone.

He looked like someone begging. Like someone wishing. Like someone praying for a miracle he never believed he deserved, but was brave enough to ask for anyway.

And the miracle… was me.

My chest ached so hard I thought it would split open. My throat burned, and my knees wobbled, trembling under the weight of the moment.

Something inside me shattered. My sobs came fast, ragged, spilling from my chest like I had no control over them.

I wanted to tell him a thousand things at once, that I loved him, that I didn’t deserve this, that I never imagined my life could lead me here.

But all I could do was fall.

My knees hit the grass, the world tilting until I was level with him, our foreheads almost touching.

His breath mingled with mine, shaky and warm. My hands clutched his like I was drowning, holding on so tightly the box between us almost slipped.

“Yes,” I choked out, the word torn from my very soul. “Yes, Damien. Yes!”

The relief that spread across his face shattered me. His smile broke, trembling like his hands as he slipped the ring onto my finger. His eyes were wet, his breath shaky, but his gaze never left me.

And in that meadow, with lovebirds singing above us, I realized the truth.

I hadn’t tamed the lion.

“I love you so much… more than my own breath, more than this life. You’re everything, Kyle. Everything.” he whispered sobbing.

The lion had chosen me. And he had given me his heart.

---

The next chapter will be the last chapter and it will be Damien’s POV. Thank you for reading their story.