Chapter 3: One Million Reasons

I did not sleep.

After Damian left my room, I lay in that ridiculous bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything. His mouth on me. His hands. The way he said my name. The way he looked at me like I was something precious and something dangerous at the same time.

My body still ached from where he touched me. Between my legs was sore in a way I had never felt before. I kept pressing my thighs together, remembering.

Around three in the morning, I gave up on sleep. I pulled on one of the white robes hanging in the closet and walked barefoot to the kitchen.

The penthouse was dark. The city lights outside cast long shadows across the marble floors. I padded past the living room, past the dining table, past the hallway that led to Damian's bedroom.

I told myself I was just getting water.

I was lying.

His door was slightly open. A sliver of light escaped. I should have walked past. Should have gone to the kitchen and back to my room and pretended none of this happened.

Instead, I pushed the door open.

Damian stood by the window, shirtless, his back to me. The city lights painted his skin in silver and gold. His shoulders were broad. Too broad. His back was a map of lean muscle, tapering down to a narrow waist. A line of dark hair disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung sweatpants.

He must have heard me. He did not turn.

He said he thought I would be sleeping.

I said I could not.

He turned then. Slowly. His eyes found me in the doorway. His chest was bare. Defined. Ridiculous. A man who looked like that had no business being a billionaire. He should have been on a movie poster.

He asked why I could not sleep.

I said because of him.

He walked toward me. Slow. Predator slow. His bare feet made no sound on the dark floor, but I felt every step in my chest. In my throat. Between my thighs.

He stopped when he was close enough to touch. Close enough that I could smell him. Cedar. Smoke. Something darker underneath. Something that made my head spin.

He asked what about him.

I said everything. The way he kissed me. The way he touched me. The way he dropped to his knees and made me forget my own name.

His eyes darkened. His jaw tightened.

He said I should not say things like that.

I asked why.

Because, he said, I might think you want more.

I stepped closer. My chest almost touched his. The robe was thin. I was naked underneath. He knew. His eyes dropped to where the fabric parted.

I said what if I did want more.

Something broke behind his eyes.

He grabbed me. His hands fisted in the robe, pulling me against him. His mouth crashed into mine. No softness. No asking. Taking.

I gasped against his lips. His tongue slid inside. He tasted like whiskey and want. His hands pushed the robe off my shoulders. It fell to the floor. I stood naked in front of him, and he stood back just long enough to look.

His eyes traveled down my body. Slow. Worshipful. He said I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

I said he was lying.

He said he never lied about things that mattered.

Then he lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist. He carried me to his bed. Black sheets. Black pillows. The smell of him everywhere.

He laid me down and stood over me. His hands went to his sweatpants. He pushed them down. His body was even more impossible up close. Every muscle defined. A line of dark hair trailing down his stomach to—

I stopped breathing.

He was large. Larger than I expected. My body tensed with anticipation and fear.

Damian saw my face. He climbed onto the bed, stretched out beside me. His hand cupped my face. His thumb brushed my cheek.

He said we did not have to. Not tonight. Not ever if I did not want to.

I asked if he wanted to.

He said yes. More than anything. But what he wanted did not matter.

I said it did matter.

I reached down. My hand wrapped around him. He was hot. Hard. Velvet over steel. He sucked in a breath. His eyes closed.

I asked if this was okay.

He said if I kept touching him like that, he would not last.

I smiled. Then I guided him to me.

He pushed inside slowly. Inch by inch. My body stretched around him. It burned at first. A good burn. A necessary burn. I gasped, and he stopped.

He asked if I was okay.

I said do not stop.

He pushed deeper. I felt full. Completely full. Like he was filling spaces I did not know I had. He waited, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged.

Then he moved.

Slow at first. Deep strokes that made me see stars. His mouth found my neck, my collarbone, my breasts. He whispered my name like a prayer. Like a curse.

I wrapped my legs around his waist. Pulled him deeper. He groaned against my skin.

He said I was going to ruin him.

I asked what that meant.

He said it meant he was never going to let me go.

His pace quickened. So did mine. Our bodies moved together like they had been made for this. For each other. His hand slid between us. His thumb found the place where we were joined. Circled. Pressed.

I shattered.

My body clenched around him. Wave after wave. I cried out his name. Loud. Unashamed. He followed seconds later, buried deep inside me, his body shuddering, his face buried in my neck.

We lay there afterwards, tangled together, both of us breathing hard. His heart pounded against my chest. Or maybe that was mine. I could not tell anymore.

He kissed my forehead. My nose. My lips.

He said he had not planned for this.

I said I knew.

He said it changed things.

I asked how.

He looked at me. His eyes were soft. Vulnerable. Nothing like the cold billionaire from the diner.

He said he did not know yet. But he intended to find out.

We must have fallen asleep. When I woke, the city lights were still on, but the sky beyond the windows was turning grey. Dawn.

Damian was still beside me. His arm was wrapped around my waist. His face was relaxed in sleep. Younger. Less dangerous.

I watched him for a long time. Tracing the line of his jaw with my eyes. The scar above his eyebrow. The way his lips parted slightly when he breathed.

Then his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He did not wake. I reached over him to silence it. But the screen was lit up. A text message. From Victoria.

I should not have read it. I read it anyway.

I know she is a fake, Damian. I have proof. Call off the engagement before the gala, or I will destroy her in front of everyone. Your choice.

My blood turned cold.

Damian stirred. His eyes opened. He saw my face. Saw the phone in my hand. He sat up quickly, grabbed it, read the message.

His expression changed. Cold. Hard. Dangerous.

He said we had a problem.

I asked what kind of problem.

He stood up. Walked to the window. His back was to me, naked, beautiful, terrifying.

He said Victoria had someone inside his organization. Someone who knew about the contract. Someone who was feeding her information.

I asked how he knew.

He turned the phone toward me. Another message, sent just before the first.

The waitress was a nice touch. But next time, choose someone who does not have a paper trail. — V

Someone had told her about me. About the diner. About everything.

Damian said the gala was tonight. Less than twelve hours.

He looked at me. His eyes were hard, but underneath was something else. Fear. Not for himself. For me.

He said Victoria was going to try to break me in front of everyone. Humiliate me. Expose me.

He asked if I was ready.

I thought about last night. About his body on mine. About the way he held me afterwards. About the million dollars that would save my mother.

I said yes.

But my hands were shaking.

And Damian noticed.

He crossed the room. Took my face in his hands. Kissed me hard. Possessive.

He said no matter what happened tonight, he would protect me.

I wanted to believe him.

Then his phone buzzed again.

Another message. This time, a photo.

A picture of me. Leaving my apartment. Two days ago. Before I even met Damian.

Someone had been watching me long before the contract.

Someone was still watching.

Damian swore. He pulled me against his chest. His arms wrapped around me like he could shield me from whatever was coming.

He said we were walking into a trap tonight.

I asked if we had a choice.

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then he said no.