The city's pulse pounded strong and steady as Adriana's vehicle swept along neon avenues. She'd slipped away from the gala hours before, but Damian Hale's essence lingered around her like smoke on her breath.
She'd vowed she wouldn't react when his text arrived. Dinner. This evening. No excuses.
Arrogant. Assume-y. Pain-in-the-neck.
And yet, here she was, in the marble entry of one of the city's trendiest restaurants.
She reminded herself it was strategy. Keep your enemies close. Know your enemy. Nothing more.
The maître d' bowed low. "Ms. Veyra, Mr. Hale awaits you."
Her heels clicked sharply as she followed the man into a private dining suite on the top floor.
Damian was seated already, the skyline stretched out like a tapestry of jewels behind him. He didn't rise he lay back, dark suit impeccable, staring face unreadable save for the fleeting quiver of his lips.
"You came," he said to her ear.
Adriana settled into the chair opposite him, posture straight, voice cool. "Don't patronize yourself. I had nothing better to do."
He laughed, low and deadly. "You had everything better to do. And still, here you are."
The first course arrived, dainty and cunning, but neither of them ate. The feast was in the conversation at the table.
"You humiliated me at my own fundraiser," Adriana said, swirling her wine.
Damian tilted his head. "I made a contribution to your cause. Spendidly, I might add."
"You bought access, not art."
"And you resent that you were not able to stop it."
Her eyes hardened. "You conflate tolerance with weakness."
No, he leaned forward, elbows on the table, "I recognize fire when I see it. And you, Adriana, radiate more light than any woman I've ever encountered."
Bitter words crept into her like velvet chains dangerous, unwanted, yet impossible to resist.
The second course arrived and left, untouched. Conversation had become sharper corners.
"Why me?" she insisted at last. "You could chase a thousand women in this town. Why choose me?"
He grinned, slow and calculated. "Because you're the one who will look at me and not blink."
Her heart betrayed her, thudding against her ribcage. She steadied her hand as she lifted her glass. "And when I do, at last?"
"I'll already be at your throat," he said softly, "or at your feet."
The air thickened, charged with something neither of them dared name.
Dessert arrived dark chocolate and sugared fruit but the tension had already sweetened the air far more dangerously.
Damian reached across the table, fingers brushing hers as he slid her untouched spoon closer. "Taste it," he murmured.
Adriana froze. The touch was brief, fleeting but it lit sparks across her skin.
She should have pulled away. Should have scolded him, reminded him of his place. But her breath was trapped, her control in tatters.
"I don't take orders," she whispered, though her hand lingered too long against his.
His gaze burned into hers, hard and unyielding. "Then take it as a dare."
The spoon clinked softly against porcelain. Adriana stepped back, her gown whispering against the marble floor.
"This was a mistake," she said, voice firm though her heart raced. "Enjoy your dessert alone, Mr. Hale."
She turned toward the door, mask restored.
But before she could leave, his voice followed her dark, rich, certain.
"You'll come back."
She froze, fists clenched, before walking away without a word.
Damian leaned back in his chair, watching her go, lips curving into a predator's smile.
The game had only just begun.
Adriana convinced herself that she was done with Damian Hale, yet the flame of his touch continued to seep into her skin, threatening her every objection.