CHAPTER THREE - The Man Who Wouldn't Let Go
803 Words
Bella sat in the back seat of the taxi, fingers gripping her phone as if it were burning her skin.
Her necklace—her grandmother’s necklace—was gone. She hadn’t even noticed she left it behind.
But Damian had.
And now he had a reason to see her again.
Her heart thudded unevenly as she read his message a second time.
“I’ll return it. We’re not finished.”
Not finished.
The words felt like a promise… or a warning.
She shoved her phone into her bag, forcing her thoughts into silence. She didn’t need rich, dangerous men complicating her life. She already had heartbreak, bills, and a job interview in two days that she couldn’t afford to mess up.
She needed distance.
Clarity.
Control.
She reached her apartment and forced herself to breathe normally. The familiar cluttered warmth welcomed her—her couch, her books, her little plant that refused to grow.
Safe.
Predictable.
Her own world.
She showered, changed, made tea, tried reading—anything to push last night out of her mind. But Damian’s face kept appearing. His hands. His voice. The way he looked at her like she wasn’t invisible.
No.
She shook her head sharply.
She wouldn’t let a mistake become a pattern.
But she didn’t have long to pretend she was fine.
A low knock echoed through her apartment.
Bella tensed.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
It couldn’t be him.
He wouldn’t come here.
He had no reason—
The knock came again. Firmer this time.
Bella walked toward the door slowly, every step heavy with dread and anticipation. She pressed her ear against it.
Silence.
Her fingers trembled as she unlocked it and pulled it open a few inches.
Her breath stopped.
Damian stood there.
In a black coat, dark shirt, and eyes that looked even more intense in daylight. He held a small velvet box—the kind necklaces belonged in.
Bella’s mouth parted, stunned. “How did you—how did you know where I live?”
He didn’t flinch. “I asked.”
“You asked who?” she whispered, shocked.
“The hotel records. I saw your ID when you checked in last night.”
Her heartbeat tripped over itself.
“You… you memorized my address?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t forget things I care about.”
Her breath trembled. “Damian… last night was a mistake.”
He stepped closer—not touching her, but close enough that she felt the heat of him, close enough that her pulse skidded into chaos.
“No,” he said softly, firmly. “It wasn’t.”
She tried to inhale, but it came out shaky. “You don’t know me.”
His eyes darkened, slow and deliberate.
“No. But I want to.”
Bella’s chest tightened painfully. This was dangerous—emotionally, physically, every possible way. She couldn’t get involved with someone like him.
“I’m not getting pulled into your world,” she said, trying to sound strong.
Damian’s jaw flexed. His voice lowered.
“You weren’t supposed to be in it.”
That startled her.
He handed her the velvet box. She took it carefully, their fingers brushing—just a whisper of contact, but enough to send heat spiraling up her skin.
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking down.
“Bella.”
Her name in his voice. Low. Warm. Too gentle for a man with his reputation.
She looked up.
His eyes were softer now, almost human beneath the cold steel.
“Let me take you to breakfast,” he said.
Her lips parted in disbelief. “Breakfast?”
A faint, almost imperceptible lift at the corner of his mouth. “It’s what people do the morning after.”
“Normal people,” she corrected. “You’re not normal.”
“Neither are you,” he murmured.
Her breath caught.
Damian watched her carefully, patiently, like he was giving her space to decide—even if he already knew her answer.
“I can’t,” Bella said softly. “This is too much. Last night was impulsive. We should leave it there.”
He exhaled slowly. Not angry. Not frustrated. Just… recognizing a boundary she was desperately trying to protect.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll give you space.”
Relief and disappointment tangled painfully in her chest.
“But don’t mistake space for distance.”
She froze.
“Because I’m not walking away from this,” he finished quietly. “Or from you.”
Her pulse stumbled.
Damian turned and walked down the hallway with quiet, controlled steps—each one feeling like it echoed in her bones.
Bella closed the door gently, leaned back against it, and pressed a trembling hand to her heart.
Distance?
No.
It was already too late for that.
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