I did as Damian instructed.
Even though my stomach was in knots and my throat felt raw from crying, I forced myself downstairs. Melinda was waiting for me, her worried gaze softening when she saw me. She must have noticed the puffiness around my eyes and the tremble in my hands, but instead of prying, she walked me toward the kitchen and began preparing something simple.
Pancakes and scrambled eggs.
My favorite.
She set the plate in front of me gently, her eyes lingering on my face like she was holding back a storm of questions. The silence stretched until I couldn't bear it anymore. I cleared my sore throat and sighed, bracing myself.
"Go ahead and ask, Melinda."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and then the words came out in a whisper. "What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed. Just thank your stars the security officers weren't around when you went there. My God, girl…" She placed a hand on her chest as though steadying her own heart. "Please, be careful."
That was all it took. The tears I thought I had buried came rushing back. My fork clattered onto the plate as I broke down again. The images wouldn't leave me...the black cloth, the bound legs, the stench of death. They haunted every corner of my mind.
What had those people done? Why were their lives taken so coldly? Did they deserve it? And the worst question of all, would Damian have done the same to my father if he hadn't sold me off?
The thought hollowed me out.
After that night, my routine changed. I wasn't asked to do chores anymore. I wasn't allowed to linger in the hallways. Every time I peeked outside, one of the other staff would remind me gently but firmly: Mr. Carter said you should remain in your room.
It wasn't hard to understand. Damian was still furious with me. He was avoiding me, and I was being punished with silence.
At first, I told myself I didn't care. It was better this way. Safer. But the longer the days dragged on, the more restless I became. And the more I hated to admit it… the more I missed him.
Two weeks.
It had been two whole weeks since I last saw Damian. Two weeks of eating alone, reading old magazines Melinda slipped me, and staring at the ceiling at night, thinking about those blue eyes I had no business missing.
That evening, I had just finished showering. Drops of water trailed down my skin as I towel-dried my damp hair. I was wrapped in nothing but a simple towel around my chest, confident it was only Melinda who ever knocked.
So when the knock came, I opened the door without a second thought.
And froze.
Damian stood there.
My breath caught in my throat. The air shifted, charged, heavy with unspoken things. I clutched the edge of the towel tighter, suddenly all too aware of how vulnerable I looked.
"Oh…" My voice wavered. "Is there anything you'd like me to do for you?"
For once, he looked… unsure. His eyes flickered, then steadied. "My room needs cleaning," he said simply. "And you're the only one I'm comfortable with in there. Get your supplies and come straight to my room when you're done."
Before I could reply, he turned and walked away.
My knees felt weak. My hands were trembling as I hurried to dress....red sweatshirt that fell to my thighs, leggings to match. I tied my hair up and tried to steel myself, but my heart wouldn't listen. It kept thudding faster and faster, like it wanted to betray me.
With my cleaning supplies in hand, I made the long walk to his room. I didn't knock....he was expecting me...so I slipped in quietly.
He was there, seated at his massive desk, typing away on his laptop. His focus was intense, his profile sharp, his aura commanding the entire room without him even speaking.
I didn't dare interrupt. I went straight to work.
First, the bathroom. Then the closet. I moved quickly, silently, almost relieved for the excuse not to be near him. But even from a distance, I could feel him. The weight of his presence pressed against my back, an invisible reminder of who I was serving.
When I moved to the bedroom itself, I avoided looking at him entirely. My focus was on dusting, straightening, cleaning with precision. If I kept busy, maybe the storm inside me would quiet.
But I didn't hear him move.
So when I turned, I collided with a solid wall of muscle.
Damian.
My breath hitched as I stumbled against his chest. His scent enveloped me.....woodsy, dark, intoxicating. My eyes flicked up, and his gaze was already on me. His hands… God, his hands rested firmly at my waist, steadying me.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, almost too softly for the man I had come to fear.
Heat rushed through me. I nodded quickly, words fumbling. "Y-yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't know you were there."
I pulled away like his touch burned me and hurried back to cleaning, desperate to distract myself. He said nothing else, simply returned to his laptop, though I could feel his eyes on me from time to time.
As soon as I finished, I gathered my supplies in record time. I was almost at the door when it happened.
A sudden pull.
Strong, but not rough. I gasped as I was turned and pressed gently against a broad chest, his chest.
I froze.
His voice rumbled above me, low and unfamiliar. "I'm sorry… for the way I reacted that night. I was just pissed. You could have gotten yourself killed."
My mind went blank. Words failed me. I didn't know whether to cry, yell, or melt. Instead, my body betrayed me....I relaxed against him. My forehead brushed against the fabric of his shirt, and for the first time, Damian Carter held me.
For a fleeting moment, it felt like safety.
Then he tilted my chin upward, forcing me to meet his eyes. My lips parted, unsteady breaths colliding in the space between us.
And then...
He kissed me.
It wasn't tentative. It wasn't careful. It was hungry. Fierce. His lips crashed onto mine, and every thought in my head shattered into sparks. I gasped, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss, his mouth claiming mine like it was a battle he was determined to win.
I should have pushed him away. I should have screamed at him. But I didn't.
Instead, I kissed him back.
My body pressed closer, my lips moving with his in desperate rhythm. His hand cupped the back of my neck, the other still gripping my waist as though letting go would destroy him. I drowned in him, in his fire, in the forbidden thrill of it all.
We kissed until air itself became a luxury. Breathless, we finally broke apart, gasping. My lips tingled, swollen, my heart wild.
Reality slammed back into me like a tidal wave.
His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, they were cold. Frost where fire had been just seconds ago.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice clipped. "I don't know what came over me." He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "Forget it ever happened. Go back to your room."
Before I could respond, he turned away and slammed the door shut behind me.
I stood there, stunned, humiliated, my hands trembling around the cleaning supplies. My lips still burned from his kiss, and yet the rejection hit me like a knife.
Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled back to my room.
He kissed me.
And then he acted like I was nothing.
By the time I collapsed onto my bed, the sobs came hard and fast. I buried my face into the pillow, the taste of him still on my lips, hating myself for not pushing him away.
Because the truth was.....
I hadn't wanted to...
And that terrified me more than anything else.
******
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