Chapter 2
Elena's POV
All night after the gala, I paced my apartment replaying every moment with Damon Blackwood. The way his gaze had burned through me.
The way his hand had brushed the small of my back when he escorted me toward the bar. The way he'd said my name like it was both a question and a plea.
I hadn't planned to speak to him, let alone let him buy me a drink. My goal had been simply to appear, intrigue him, and leave him wondering. Damon didn't let people just walk away, He never had.
At the end of the night, he'd leaned close, his breath warm against my ear, and invited me to dinner the next evening, I'd smiled like it meant nothing and said yes.
It wasn't weakness. It was strategy.
The deeper he fell, the harder it would be when I destroyed him.
Standing in front of his towering glass and steel skyscraper, I smoothed my silk dress over my hips and forced my pulse to slow.
The building loomed above me like a monument to his empire…our empire.
My designs had helped build his brand, my nights spent hunched over sketches and samples while he plotted and strategized.
The elevator ride to the penthouse felt endless. By the time the doors slid open, I had perfected my expression with a mixture of polite curiosity and mild disinterest.
Damon stood waiting just beyond the threshold, he was devastating in a dark suit, the tie at his throat perfectly knotted, his hair styled with deliberate carelessness.
He looked every inch the powerful billionaire he had become, but when his gaze fell on me, something vulnerable flickered beneath the surface.
"You came," he said, his voice low, rich, and unbearably familiar.
I let a slow smile curve my lips. "You did ask nicely."
He chuckled, the sound rough and warm. "Come in."
The penthouse was exactly what I expected, sleek lines, expensive art, understated luxury that screamed of wealth without needing to boast. I'd helped pick out some of those paintings once, back when I was still Elena Marie, his loyal secretary and secret weapon.
The memories threatened to overwhelm me, but I shoved them down.
"This place is… impressive," I said lightly, trailing my fingers over the smooth marble of the kitchen island.
"Only the best," Damon replied, watching me intently.
He gestured toward a table set for two near the window.
A bottle of wine chilled in a silver bucket, and candles flickered softly, casting golden light over the gleaming crystal and fine china.
My throat tightened, this was everything I'd dreamed of a romantic evening with the man I loved, overlooking the city we'd built our future on. Now it was just a battlefield disguised as a dinner date.
"You went to a lot of trouble," I said, taking my seat.
Damon sat across from me, his expression unreadable. "Some things are worth the effort."
The food was exquisite, lobster, perfectly seared steak, delicate truffle risotto but I barely tasted it. The real feast was the tension between us, each word carefully chosen, each glance loaded with unspoken history.
"So, Elena," Damon said finally, swirling the wine in his glass. "Tell me about yourself."
I arched a brow. "You mean you don't already know?. A man like you must have people who can dig up anything about anyone."
A shadow crossed his face. "Perhaps. But I'd rather hear it from you."
I sipped my wine, hiding my smirk. He didn't realize he'd already told me everything I needed to know that he was curious, intrigued, and most importantly uncertain.
"There's not much to tell," I said smoothly.
"I've been… away for a while. Traveling. Finding myself."
"Finding yourself," he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Did you succeed?"
My gaze met his, steady and challenging. "I think so."
The air between us crackled. Damon's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "I'd like to know who you found."
"I'll tell you someday," I said, tilting my head, "if you're patient."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of careful banter and subtle tests. Damon probed for information but I revealed little. In turn, I studied him, looking for cracks in his armor.
When dessert arrived– a decadent chocolate soufflé, he set his fork down and said, "Dinner was just the beginning."
I blinked, feigning surprise. "Oh?"
"Come with me," he said, rising smoothly to his feet. Against my better judgment, I followed him.
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The next several hours were a whirlwind.
Damon whisked me through the city in his sleek black car, chauffeured by a silent driver who didn't even glance back at us.
We stopped at a private rooftop garden where fairy lights twinkled like fireflies and a jazz trio played soft, sultry melodies. He guided me through the maze of flowers, his hand warm against my back.
"You did all this… for me?" I asked, careful to keep my tone light.
"For us," he corrected. "I wanted to show you something beautiful."
I almost laughed at the irony. Beautiful? Once, I thought he was the most beautiful thing in my life.
From there, he took me to an exclusive art gallery after hours. The curator personally unlocked the doors for us, bowing low before disappearing discreetly.
Damon led me through the shadowed halls, pausing before a painting that made my breath catch.
I knew it well, It was one of mine.
A design I'd sketched years ago, never knowing he'd kept it. Seeing it framed and displayed here felt like a slap and a caress all at once.
"You like it?" Damon asked, watching me closely.
I forced my expression into one of polite curiosity. "It's… striking."
He didn't miss the tremor in my voice, but he didn't press.
Our final stop was a quiet, hidden speakeasy tucked beneath an unmarked door. Damon ordered cocktails with a familiarity that told me this was one of his sanctuaries.
As we sat in a shadowed booth, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine.
"I don't usually do this," he said quietly. "Chasing someone like this. But you…" His eyes burned into mine. "There's something about you I can't ignore."
My heart thudded painfully. Good, I told myself. Let him fall, Let him want you so badly it consumes him.
But when I looked at him, really looked, I saw a flicker of something that made my breath hitch.
I jerked my hand back, breaking the spell. "It's getting late," I said briskly. "I should go."
For a moment, disappointment shadowed his face. Then he recovered, standing to help me up.
"Tomorrow night," he said, his voice low and certain. "Let me take you out again."
I hesitated just long enough to make him doubt, then gave a small, enigmatic smile.
"We'll see."