The morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, painting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. Ava stirred beneath the silk sheets, eyes fluttering open slowly, the scent of fresh coffee wafting in from the hallway. For a moment, she forgot where she was—until her eyes landed on the unfamiliar ceiling. Reality came rushing back. Damian Blackwood's penthouse.
Last night had changed everything.
The kiss.
The contract.
The secrets.
Ava sat up, brushing her fingers through her tousled hair. Her heart thudded with a mix of confusion and anticipation. She wasn't sure whether to feel victorious or scared. The man was a mystery wrapped in danger, yet she had willingly signed her name on the dotted line of his terms.
As she padded toward the open balcony in one of his oversized shirts, her mind reeled. She wasn't falling for him—was she? No. This was business. Nothing more.
But when Damian appeared behind her—shirtless, holding two mugs of coffee—her resolve nearly crumbled.
"You're up early," he said, handing her a cup. "Didn't think you'd still be here."
Ava raised an eyebrow. "Would you have preferred I sneak out?"
He chuckled. "No, but you don't strike me as someone who stays where she doesn't belong."
His words hung in the air. Ava met his gaze, studying the man beneath the charm. Damian Blackwood was hiding something—something deep and painful. She saw it in the way his eyes avoided hers when things grew too quiet.
"You're good at dodging," she said.
He smirked. "And you're good at asking the questions no one dares to."
"That's why I'm a journalist."
"That's why you're dangerous."
They sat in silence for a beat, sipping their coffees, the city stretching out before them. He broke the quiet first.
"I have a gala tonight," he said. "I need you on my arm."
She turned to him. "Is that part of the contract?"
"It is now."
Ava smiled despite herself. "What's the occasion?"
"Charity. For appearances. But it's really just a pit of sharks in designer suits."
"And you want me to play bait?"
"I want you to play power," he said, stepping closer. "They underestimate beauty. Use that."
Ava's breath caught. "You talk like this is war."
"It is."
***
The gala was everything Ava expected-glittering gowns, murmurs behind champagne flutes, eyes that judged without blinking. Damian's hand rested lightly on her lower back as they entered, his touch both possessive and oddly reassuring.
They were a vision-him in a sharp black tux, her in a deep crimson gown that hugged every curve. Heads turned. Cameras flashed.
"You clean up well," Damian murmured at her ear.
"I always did."
They mingled, smiled, exchanged rehearsed pleasantries. But Ava didn't miss the subtle nods between men in shadows, the forced smiles, the underlying tension. This wasn't a party. It was a battlefield dressed in silk.
Then she saw her.
Vivienne Hart.
The ex-fiancée.
Damian's greatest mistake-or perhaps, his deepest scar.
The woman glided toward them with a predatory smile, eyes locked on Damian like a lion spotting a wounded deer.
"Well, well," Vivienne purred. "I didn't think I'd see you crawling back into society so soon."
"I never crawled," Damian said coolly. "Some of us walk through fire."
Her gaze shifted to Ava. "And who's this? A replacement? Or a distraction?"
"A partner," Ava said firmly, surprising even herself.
Vivienne blinked. Just once. Then she smiled with venom.
"I hope you're ready for the storm, darling," she whispered. "Men like Damian don't come without thunder."
With that, she slipped away.
Ava stood frozen for a beat, then turned to Damian. "What the hell was that?"
"History," he muttered. "One I'd rather forget."
Elena's heart pounded. "Then why are you pulling away?"
"Because I've seen what love does," he said, voice low. "I watched it destroy my mother. Saw how it broke my father when she left. I don't do messy emotions."
Her breath caught. "I'm not your past, Dominic."
"No, you're worse," he said with a bitter smile. "You make me want things I buried long ago."
They stood in silence, emotions raw and exposed. The lines between boss and employee blurred further than ever before.
***
That evening, Elena sat on her balcony, legs tucked under her as she stared out at the city lights. Her phone buzzed.
*Dominic:* *I shouldn't have said that. But I meant every word.*
She stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Then she typed: So did I.
A minute later, another message appeared.
Dominic:Dinner. Tomorrow. Just us.
Elena didn't hesitate.
Yes.