Damien’s POV
The penthouse greeted him with silence—not comforting, but pressing—thick and heavy, like the calm before a storm.
He stood just inside the door, the day’s weight trailing behind him like smoke.
The city glittered beyond the glass, but he didn’t look. His eyes settled on the untouched glass of whiskey.
Because all he could think about was her.
The way her voice trembled when she said his name.
Not Mr. Blackwood.
Just Damien.
A breath. A plea. A promise.
And f**k, it undid him.
He unbuttoned his cuffs as he walked toward the wide glass windows, the penthouse swallowing him whole. The tie came next—undone with one sharp tug. His body was tight, coiled, restless.
She had no idea what she did to him. No clue.
That’s what made it worse.
She wasn’t trying to seduce. It
