Damien's POV
He stood at the balcony, leaning on the railing, his cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers.
Each drag did little to calm the chaos in his chest.
A storm raged in Damien's mind. Earlier, his body reacted to Eva's touch like a curse, each graze of her skin against his set off an avalanche of desire that he couldn't control. The moment her fingers brushed his, every nerve in his body screamed for her. And yet, when she spoke earlier about her struggles, about how desperate she needed to save her family, something inside him softened. He found himself pitying her, admiring her strength.
She reminded him of Tyler Ross, the girl who once spoke of needing to protect her family as well. But unlike Eva, Tyler had chosen the easy way out: theft. But Eva, despite her desperation, was trying to fight with dignity. Damien respected that more than he could admit. In fact, he had nearly offered to help, he was this close to settling her mother's medical bills. It wasn't like twenty million meant anything to him. If not for anything, he had at least seen the frail, broken woman in the hospital with his own eyes the other day, until she mentioned the part about offering her body in exchange for the money.
And that shattered something inside of him.
He wasn't just angry. He was confused. Angry. Aroused. Jealous. Hurt. Yearning.
Feelings he couldn't even name, all tangled into one unbearable knot inside his chest.
And he became terrified of what she was starting to mean to him.
The moment Damien realized he could actually have her_body and all_every nerve in him lit up like wildfire. The hunger was instant, primal. But then, just as quickly, something within him recoiled. His mind flashed back to the hotel... to her innocent, heartbreakingly beautiful face. A face that looked too pure for such desperation. And yet, now she was offering herself like currency?
Was that what she'd gone to the hotel to do, with that so-called boyfriend of hers? Had she been trying to raise money the only way she thought she could? Selling herself? Was she really that kind of a woman?
His grip on the balcony rail tightened. The cigarette between his fingers burned down unnoticed.
How repulsive.
Suddenly, a wave of disgust twisted in his gut, not just at her, but at himself for even considering it. Then another image invaded his mind_Tyler. Sweet, stubborn Tyler. She had even been a virgin.
He missed having a virgin as his woman. Untouched. And God, how he had wanted that opportunity again.
He remembered it clearly, the day he had almost slept with her, how he couldn't penetrate her, how secured her body was and waiting for him, he also remember, the way she would look at him, his very own Tyler.
Tyler, a girl who had looked at him with wide, trusting eyes and offered him something sacred, not because she was desperate, but because she chose him. She hadn't begged. She hadn't bargained. She had simply been his.
God, he missed that.
Damien clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as he dragged hard on his cigarette, the smoke burning down his lungs like acid. He was obsessive by nature, a man who found comfort in order, in possession. He liked his things pure, undisturbed. Something he could put his mark on. Like Tyler's untouched love.
Not this mess of a woman, Eva, bold and reckless, throwing herself at him like it meant nothing. A woman willing to open her legs for the highest bider.
The thought made his stomach twist.
She could never be his. And that truth, that damned truth, made his blood boil.
She wormed her way beneath his skin like poison. No matter how hard he tried to hate her, she haunted him. Her scent. Her voice. The fire in her eyes.
And so, he smoked, seething and silent, staring out into the dusk as the smoke curled around his fury.
God, how he hated her.
Or maybe...
He hated how much he didn't.
Later that afternoon...
They arrived at the venue for a high-profile business meeting.
Eva walked beside him, wearing a stunning fitted pink dress that hugged her curves in all the right ways. Damien had picked the dress himself, and yet, she kept tugging at the hem nervously, clearly uncomfortable in it.
He noticed, of course he did, and scoffed under his breath.
Was she serious? Didn't she realize how breathtaking she looked? The dress flattered her, made her stand out like a rare gem. But of course, she didn't see it. It was obvious she didn't like it.
He shook his head in frustration and picked up his pace. As always, she had to practically run just to keep up with his long strides. And yet, she followed him anyway, breathless and flustered.
Damien didn't turn around, but a part of him, damn it all, was smug that she did.
Damien was scheduled to meet with a crown prince from one of the most powerful dynasties in Europe, a man known not just for his wealth, but for his obsession with brilliance. And today, brilliance had a price.
They were there to discuss a tiny chip Damien had recently launched. A revolutionary piece of technology capable of enhancing cognitive function, sharpening intelligence to near superhuman levels. A chip that could change the world. Or ruin it, depending on who wielded it.
Damien entered the private lounge of the luxury hotel, followed by Eva. The crown prince was already seated, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, flanked by two equally flashy friends. Champagne sparkled on the table, cigars smoked lazily between polished fingers, and yet none of them had eyes on the tech genius before them.
No, the prince's eyes were fixed solely on Eva.
Few minutes later into the meeting, the crowned prince suddenly said_
"Your PA is quite stunning," he said casually, as if commenting on the weather.
Damien ignored the remark, keeping the conversation firmly on business. But the prince wasn't one to let go of amusement so quickly. His gaze wandered again, this time more boldly.
"Hey, beautiful," he said, flashing Eva a smirk, "I like you. I'd like to date you. What do you say?"
Eva, caught off guard but ever composed, smiled politely. "Oh, I've got a boyfriend," she said with grace, hoping to end it there.
But the prince leaned in, his voice smooth as silk and laced with arrogance.
"Can your boyfriend give you a billion? "Because I can_right now_if you agree to date me."
Her polite smile suddenly faltered. As her eyes flickered for a split second, temptation, hesitation, something unspoken. And Damien saw it.
It punched the air right out of his lungs.
Was she actually considering it?
His jaw tightened.
Was she going to go with this one too?
How easily swayed. How disgustingly loose.
"She's in a stable relationship," Damien cut in, voice cold and clipped, like a blade sliding across glass.
The prince chuckled. "Boyfriends are replaceable. Only husbands are permanent... and even that's debatable these days," he said in his polished British accent, clearly enjoying the game.
Damien scoffed, the heat in his chest growing unbearable, as his hands balling into fists at his sides, especially when Eva didn't deny anything, when she just stood there visibly stunned, and thinking, her thoughts dancing somewhere between offense and consideration.
"We didn't come here to auction off my assistant," Damien snapped. "Are we discussing business or shall I end this meeting? I have better things to do."
The prince leaned back and exhaled a puff of smoke. "Why do I feel like you're jealous?" he teased. "A secret boss-employee romance?" That's always juicy." His smirk widened. "If it's one-sided, here's a bit of advice: tell her. Before you watch her marry someone else and spend the rest of your life haunted by the sound of her last name changing." He shrugged casually. "But hey, none of that is my concern."
Damien's fingers clenched. "Are we still talking about the chip?"
The prince grinned. "Name your price."
Out of spite, and sheer rage, Damien doubled the original amount. But the arrogant royal didn't even blink. He signed the deal eagerly, without hesitation, his gaze still glued to Eva like she was the real prize on the table.
Damien clenched his jaw. Pathetic fool. And worse, why was she letting herself be stared at like that?
As soon as the papers were signed, Damien rose and stormed toward the garage without another word. His long strides devoured the hallway. Behind him, Eva practically had to jog to keep up.
The crown prince called after her once, twice, but she didn't look back. Not even once.
Eventually, the prince stood still, watching her silhouette disappear after Damien. A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Eva right," he murmured to himself.
Then he turned, flicked his cigar to the ground, and walked away.
On their way back, Damien sat like a ticking bomb, silent, rigid, and seconds away from detonating. His jaw was clenched so tightly, it looked like he might grind his teeth to dust. He simmered with fury, replaying the moment he saw that flicker of temptation in Eva's eyes, like she was actually considering the prince's obscene offer.
That look on her face.
He couldn't stomach it. Couldn't believe that she, of all people, could be that kind of woman. A woman swayed by money. A woman willing to entertain a stranger's offer if the price was right.
He didn't say a word to her the entire ride. In fact, he couldn't even look at her. Her mere presence in the car irritated him, like a persistent thorn under his skin. Every breath she took seemed to mock him, a reminder of just how wrong he might have been about her.
For the rest of their stay in Mexico, Eva noticed the drastic shift. Damien no longer spoke to her unless necessary. He booked a separate room for her, kept all interactions painfully professional, and avoided eye contact like she carried some disease he was terrified of catching. The warmth, the subtle glances, the unspoken pull between them, it had all vanished overnight, leaving a cold, confusing void. And Eva was left wondering: What did I do wrong?