Chapter Eight
I should have walked away.
I was supposed to laugh off Damien's words, brush off Victoria's sharp gaze and tell myself that this wasn't real.
But I didn't.
Because I couldn't.
Not when Damien's hand was still settled gently on my lower back, his fingers barely pressing into the silk material of my dress. Not when a dangerous glint lurked behind his smirk, one that sent a shiver down my spine.
Not just an assistant.
The words ricocheted through my skull, making my heart skip.
Damien Blackwood had marked me as his own, in front of Victoria, in front of all of them.
And I didn't know whether to resist it or surrender to it.
My throat constricted, and I choked out a word. "You didn't need to say that."
Damien arched his brow. "Didn't I?"
My fingers curled into fists. "You're playing a game."
His smirk didn't fade. "I told you before, Elena. I don't play games."
I let out a sharp breath, my body stiff. "Then what was that?"
"A reminder."
I frowned. "To whom?"
Damien's eyes darted to where Victoria had vanished, then back to me.
"To everyone."
A chill ran down my spine.
He was not speaking only about Victoria.
He was sending a message.
To his father. To his competitors. For everyone who thought I was just another assistant.
I swallowed. "You don't own me."
Damien's eyes darkened. "Not yet."
My breath caught.
There was a shift in the air between us, hot, electric, undeniable.
I should have walked away.
But instead, I stayed.
And that was mistake number one.
The rest of the evening was a whirl of introductions and empty platitudes.
Damien guided me through the ballroom as if presenting me, his hand never far from me as his presence loomed beside me.
People watched.
They whispered.
And I felt it.
The weight of their stares. The quiet judgment.
I wasn't supposed to be here.
I was not meant to be at his side.
And yet, Damien had treated me like I belonged.
Like I was right where he wanted me to be.
It was unsettling.
And the worst part?
A treacherous little part of me enjoyed it.
My jaw tensed as I tried to banish the thought.
This was nothing.
A role I was playing.
That was all.
But when Damien's hand came again to the small of my back, guiding me effortlessly through the crowd, I no longer knew.
I didn't get a minute alone until, finally, an hour later.
I slipped out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the ballroom.
I leaned over, my hands clenched around the railing and the lights of the city twinkling below me.
What the hell was I doing?
Damien Blackwood was not good for anyone.
Not in the way Liam was.
Except in a different, more complicated way.
Because with Damien, the threat wasn't only in what he was capable of doing.
That was how he made me feel.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to get a grip.
I was here only because I had nowhere else to go.
"As soon as this contract is over, I'm out of here."
This wasn't real.
It could never be real.
"You're a terrible liar
I jumped, spinning around.
Damien leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets, with moonlight shining on his eyes.
I exhaled sharply. "Do you always creep up on people?"
His lips twitched. "Only when they're running."
I stiffened. "I wasn't running."
He pushed against the doorway and stepped toward me slowly and deliberately.
"No?" he murmured. So why do you look like you're ready to jump?"
I rolled my eyes. "Dramatic much?"
Damien smirked. "Only when necessary."
I turned back to the city, not looking at him. "I just needed air."
Damien fell quiet for a spell. And then, "Tell me something, Elena."
I paused before taking a look at him. "What?"
His blue eyes cut right through me.
"Who called you yesterday?"
My stomach plummeted.
I caught my breath in my throat.
And, suddenly, the cold night air felt a little too thick.
"I—" I managed a laugh, shook my head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Damien's jaw ticked. "Lying doesn't suit you."
I suppressed a gulp, gripping the railing more tightly.
"I told you," I said quietly. "It was the wrong number."
Damien moved closer still, his shadow oppressive, indecipherable.
"Try again."
I clenched my jaw. "Damien"
His hand suddenly clutched my chin and lifted my face toward him.
I froze.
My breath hitched.
His touch burned me, making my blood shiver in my veins.
Damien's gaze darkened. "Who was it?"
My pulse was hammered.
I should have pulled away.
I should have lied again.
But there was something in his eyes — something raw, something perilously close to concern — that made the words stick in my throat.
I swallowed.
And in the quietest voice, barely above a whisper, I said, "No one for you to worry about."
Damien's grip tightened.
For a second, I thought he was about to press on.
But then little by little, his grip relaxed, his thumb barely grazing my jaw before he withdrew.
A ghost of a touch.
A warning.
And perhaps, just perhaps … a pledge.
His face went blank as he stepped back.
"It's not the end of this conversation."
My heart stumbled.
Because I knew, deep down…
He meant it.
I was stone still, Damien's fingers ghosting across my skin.
I should have pulled away.
I should have lied better.
But as soon as his fingertips met my jaw, I'd short-circuited and was stuck in his gravity.
And now?
I had revealed something to him: a chink in my armor, a string for him to tug on.
Damien didn't move.
Didn't speak.
But his eyes remained fixed on mine, piercing, demanding — waiting.
I forced myself to breathe.
To step back.
To flee before he could realize what a grip he was taking on me.
"I need to go back in," I said, facing the door.
But before I could move an inch, his voice froze me.
"Elena."
I stiffened.
There was something about how he said my name, low, smooth, laced with whatever it was I couldn't quite place, that sent a shiver down my spine.
I turned slowly. "What?"
Damien's eyes skated over me, unreadable.
And then, quietly, deliberately, he said, "If you're in trouble, tell me."
My heart skipped.
I looked at him, feeling my throat constrict.
He had seen through me.
I had been so careful, so good at keeping my secrets buried.
But Damien Blackwood was nothing like everyone else.
He was a hunter.
And at this moment in time, I was his prey.
I swallowed hard. "I'm not."
His jaw ticked. "Liar."
I clenched my fists. "Even if I was, why would you care?"
Silence.
Damien tilted his head slightly, his eyes running through the cloth on my face, like he was solving a puzzle.
And then, finally—he smirked.
But it wasn't amusing.
It was something else.
Something darker.
Something that made my gut clench.
"I do not like unfinished business," he said.
A chill ran down my spine.
I knew what he was saying.
What did he really meant?
Damien Blackwood wasn't just a bystander.
If he believed I was withholding a secret, he wouldn't rest until he uncovered every last one.
Until not even a piece of me was left to hide.
I released a sharp breath, my chest burning.
"I'm fine, Damien."
His smirk didn't fade.
But his eyes…
His eyes told me he didn't believe me.
Not for a second.
And that terrified me more than anything.
Because if Damien continued to dig…
He would find Liam.
And IF Damien ever discovered my stepbrother's true nature.
I didn't know whom to be more afraid of.
The remainder of the night was a blur.
I played along, playing the dutiful partner as Damien swept through the room with a mix of indifference and command, his fingers lingering on my back, his nearness a reminder that I was no longer just on the outside looking in.
I was a statement.
A warning.
A piece in however much game he was playing.
And the worst part?
I didn't know if I should run away from it… or dive in deeper.
By the end of the gala, my head was spinning.
I needed distance.
I needed air.
But Damien had other plans.
"Come with me."
I blinked, startled. "What?"
Damien's driver had opened the sleek black car door, waiting for us.
But Damien wasn't getting in.
He was waiting for me.
I hesitated. "I thought we were done."
His lips twitched. "Not yet."
I frowned. "Where are we going?"
Damien cocked his head, his eyes shining under the streetlights.
"You'll see."
Something in the way he'd said it was so cool, so final made my stomach knot.
I should have said no.
I should have walked away, called a cab, vanished into the night.
But instead…
I stepped into the car.
And with that, I had my second mistake of the night.