(Damien's POV)
The penthouse was silent, except for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass walls. I watched her from where I stood near the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, jaw tight, eyes burning with a mixture of defiance and something else… something I couldn't name yet.
She was fierce—arrogant, stubborn, completely unlike her sister. And yet, somehow, infinitely more captivating. The first moment I'd noticed her at the gala, I'd thought she was just another sharp Rothwell girl. But she wasn't. Not even close. Not like her sister.
I stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, each movement measured, ensuring she could feel the weight of my presence even before I touched her. Her eyes flicked up at me, wary but unflinching. Most women would have lowered their gaze, felt intimidated. Not Evelyn. She was a spark, a challenge, and for reasons I couldn't yet explain, I found myself addicted to it.
I closed the distance between us, letting my gaze roam over her with that slow, calculated intensity that left no room for lies. Then my hands rose, cupping her face gently. Not soft, not indulgent, but firm, deliberate. My thumbs brushed her cheekbones.
"You're… so fierce," I murmured, my voice low, deliberate, vibrating in the quiet space between us. "Arrogant, stubborn… and yet… I can't stop noticing that you're way more pretty… and cute… than your sister. It would be a shame if I liked her, and secretly admired you."
Her lips parted, a sharp inhale breaking the silence. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and I could see the flush creeping up her neck, across her collarbone, under the dim lights. She tried to pull away, ever so slightly, but I didn't let her. Not yet.
"I know what you're thinking," I continued, voice dropping a notch, closer, leaning toward her so the heat of me pressed against her skin, "that all this… that I should be focused on your sister, that I should be blind to you. But I'm not. And you… you're impossible to ignore."
Her eyes narrowed, sharp, defiant, and for a moment she actually raised her chin, daring me to continue. That audacity—it lit something inside me, a fire I hadn't realized was there until now. She was a distraction, yes. A dangerous, maddening distraction. And yet… she was addictive.
I let my hands linger on her face a second longer, memorizing the curve of her jaw, the warmth of her skin, the way her eyes glimmered in the half-light. "You get it, don't you?" I whispered, my forehead almost touching hers. "You know what I'm saying. You're different. You make me think in ways I don't want to admit. You make me… reckless."
Her breath hitched. I could feel the tension radiating from her, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. And I knew she understood. She always did. But she was also a challenge—a wall I had to tear down slowly, carefully, and yet with a force that matched her own stubbornness.
"You think I'm cruel," I said softly, letting my voice lower to a dangerous murmur. "You think I play games. Maybe I do. But not with you. Not with this." My hands tightened just slightly on her cheeks, commanding attention without hurting. "I can't… I won't… ignore this. You're fire, Evelyn. And fire is meant to burn. But you… you're untamed."
Her lips trembled, her eyes glistening. She looked away, trying to find refuge in the far corner of the room, but I followed, closing the distance again. I didn't touch her this time, just watched. Observed. Absorbed every small reaction, every microexpression. Every flicker of defiance, every tiny quiver in her jaw—it was all mine to read, and mine to understand.
"You still plan to accept the proposal, to marry your sister," I said, voice quieter now, more contemplative, letting the weight of my words sink in. "And yet… here you are. And here I am. And this… this is what's happening."
Her mouth opened, then closed. A faint gasp escaped, but she didn't speak. She couldn't. The mix of fear, frustration, desire—it was tangled and complicated, but it was raw. It was honest. And I thrived on it.
I leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It would be a crime," I murmured, voice low, "to ignore you, to pretend you don't exist, to behave as though I could ever be blind to you. You're… a storm I didn't expect, Evelyn. And I don't know if I want to survive it… because I don't want to."
Her chest rose faster now. I could feel the rapid heartbeat, the trembling in her hands. I wanted to press further, to claim more of her attention, to see how far I could push before she snapped, before she fought back. But I restrained myself, letting the tension simmer.
"You think this is… wrong," I continued, each word deliberate, teasing, dangerous. "That I should be thinking of your sister, that I should hide these thoughts, these feelings. But I won't. You're too… important. Too… necessary. You're like nothing else I've ever known, Evelyn. You're impossible to categorize. You're… mine, in ways you don't even understand yet."
Her lips parted slightly. Her eyes glimmered with tears, unspilled but threatening, and I felt that familiar pull, the addictive urge that made me want to take control and yet… to protect.
I let go of her face, stepping back just enough to let her breathe, but close enough to make her feel the heat radiating from me, the magnetic force that always drew her back. I studied her, committing every detail to memory—the way her chest rose and fell, the tension in her jaw, the glint in her eyes that screamed defiance and vulnerability all at once.
"This… this is dangerous," I said softly, almost to myself. "You're dangerous. And I… I don't know how to resist."
Her breath hitched again. She tried to gather her composure, but it was futile. She was trembling, emotional, and it was all laid bare for me to see. She was a puzzle I wanted to solve, a flame I wanted to hold, a chaos I wanted to understand.
I watched her, silent now, letting the moment stretch. Letting the tension hang like a living, breathing thing between us. The air itself seemed to thrum with anticipation, with the unspoken admission of desire, of acknowledgment, of power.
"You're going to test me," I said finally, voice low, dangerous, but undeniably honest. "And I won't fail. I won't. Not with you."
And for the first time, I allowed myself to admit it, internally, without speaking: I didn't just want her. I needed her. Needed the chaos she brought, the fire she lit in me, the way she refused to yield. She was more than a distraction now. She was addictive. She was necessary. She was… Evelyn.
I stepped back, letting the quiet settle, letting her breathe, letting her process. And I knew, in the depth of my mind, that nothing would ever be the same again. She was fire, she was defiance, she was beauty, and I was already lost to her.
---