Chapter 2: The Billionaire with Fangs
I spent the entire next morning cursing myself out.
Not for mouthing off to Damon Blackwood — that part I was actually kinda proud of. Few people probably told that rich bastard to f*ck off to his face.
No, what pissed me off was the way my body had betrayed me.
The heat that pooled in my stomach when he leaned close, the way my pulse went stupid at the sound of his voice. His cologne, his goddamn smirk, the way he said my name like he owned it—like he owned me.
I stood in the back room of the hotel, scrubbing down champagne flutes for another one of their ridiculous VIP parties, trying to shake it out of my system.
"He's just a guy," I muttered under my breath, dunking a glass into the sudsy sink. "An arrogant, rich, manipulative dickhead. Nothing special."
Except he was.
Because every time I blinked, I saw those eyes. And every time I swallowed, I heard that voice, low and sinful in my ear. Next time, I won't stop.
"Ughhh, f*ck me," I groaned, slamming the glass on the rack too hard.
"Babe, I would, but I think you'd break me," my coworker Jade piped up from across the room, snapping her gum as she polished silverware.
I snorted. "Please. You'd be begging for more."
"True," she grinned. "But judging by that look on your face, somebody already has you begging. Who is he?"
"No one."
Jade cocked a brow. "Bitch, your nipples are practically hard through that uniform. Spill."
Heat rushed to my face. "It's no one, okay? Just… some entitled prick."
"Mhm." She winked. "And let me guess… hot enough to make panties drop with a single look?"
I turned back to the sink, scrubbing harder. "He's a nightmare."
"A sexy nightmare?"
"Jade."
"Fine, fine. Keep your dirty secrets." She smirked. "But if you're walking funny tomorrow, I'll know why."
I rolled my eyes, but her words stuck in my head.
Because deep down, I didn't want Damon Blackwood to stay a nightmare. I wanted him to come back.
Of course, the universe being the evil bitch she is… he did.
That night, the hotel lobby was buzzing with another high-profile event. Black suits, red dresses, diamonds that could pay off national debt. The kind of crowd that looked at girls like me and saw "staff," nothing more.
I was carrying a tray of champagne flutes when the air in the room shifted. It was subtle at first, like a chill crawling down my spine. Then stronger, like gravity itself tilted toward the entrance.
And there he was.
Damon Blackwood.
He walked in like he owned not just the hotel, but the entire city. Black tailored suit, tie undone just enough to show the hard line of his throat. His gaze swept the room like a predator cataloging prey.
When his eyes landed on me, I nearly dropped the tray.
F*ck.
Our gazes locked. His lips curved in that dangerous half-smile, like he knew exactly what I'd been thinking about all day.
I tore my eyes away, forcing myself to focus on delivering the drinks.
But I could feel him. Watching me. Following me.
My pulse hammered so hard, I thought the champagne might rattle in the glasses.
"Don't look at him," I whispered to myself. "Do not f*cking look at him."
I looked.
And he was already moving toward me.
Sh*t.
I ducked into a side hallway, heading toward the service corridor. My heels clicked too fast, my breath too shallow.
"Elena."
His voice rolled through the hallway like thunder.
I froze.
He was leaning casually against the wall ahead, as if he'd been waiting for me all along. His suit hugged his frame like sin itself, his dark eyes locked on me with that same hungry gleam.
"How the hell do you keep doing that?" I snapped, setting the tray down before I spilled it. "Do you have me tracked or something?"
"Maybe," he said smoothly.
I blinked. "You're joking, right?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he pushed off the wall and closed the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps.
I tried to move, but my back hit the wall.
"Relax," he murmured, one hand braced beside my head. "I don't bite. Not yet."
The way he said it made my knees go weak.
"Get out of my space," I managed.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "What if I don't want to?"
"Then I'll scream."
"No you won't."
My heart hammered. "Why not?"
"Because part of you wants this," he whispered, his eyes dipping to my lips.
Fck him. Fck him for being right.
"Arrogant bastard," I hissed.
"True." His grin was pure sin. "But you like it."
Before I could retort, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my face. His fingers grazed my skin—cold, almost too cold.
I shivered.
"You're freezing," I muttered. "What, no heating in your mansion?"
His smile widened. "I run… different."
"What does that even mean?"
"You'll find out."
His tone was dark, promising, and it lit up every nerve in my body.
I wanted to push him away. I wanted to pull him closer.
Instead, I snapped, "You're insane."
"Maybe." His eyes glinted, sharp and unnatural for just a second, like they caught fire in the dim light. "But you're drawn to me anyway."
My breath caught. "The f*ck was that?"
He tilted his head. "What was what?"
"Your eyes."
"They're just eyes, Elena."
Bullsh*t. Normal eyes didn't glow like that.
Before I could question further, footsteps echoed from the main hall. Damon stepped back, smooth as hell, like he hadn't just cornered me against a wall and f*cked with my sanity.
"Enjoy the party," he said casually, adjusting his cufflinks. "I'll see you soon."
And just like that, he walked away, leaving me shaking, horny, and utterly confused.
I didn't see him again until after midnight, when the event finally wrapped up.
I was cleaning up champagne bottles in one of the private lounges when the door clicked shut behind me.
I didn't even need to look. I knew.
"Do you seriously have nothing better to do than stalk me?" I muttered, shoving empty glasses into a bin.
"You're the only thing worth doing tonight," Damon said lazily from behind me.
Heat shot straight to my core. Goddamn it.
I turned to snap at him, but the words stuck in my throat.
Because he was watching me differently this time. Not with his usual smug arrogance, but with something darker.
His gaze dropped to my throat.
And for just a split second, I swore his lips parted, showing a flash of sharp, gleaming teeth.
No. Not teeth. Fangs.
I blinked, and they were gone. Just a smirk again, mocking me.
"Problem, Elena?" he asked smoothly.
My pulse raced so fast I thought I might faint.
"What the hell are you?" I whispered.
His smile curved slow, dangerous.
"Curious?" he murmured, stepping closer. "Good. Curiosity keeps things interesting."
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His voice dropped to a growl, low and hungry.
"Next time you see me, Elena… pray you're ready to bleed."