CHAPTER TWO - The Morning After The Wrong Night
773 Words
Bella woke slowly, like someone surfacing from deep water.
Warmth pressed against her skin, soft sheets tangled around her legs, the faint scent of cedar and something darker lingering in the air.
For a moment—just one fragile, blissful moment—she didn’t remember where she was.
Then memory struck.
The bar.
The whiskey.
Him.
Damian Romano.
Her eyes flew open.
She wasn’t in her apartment.
She wasn’t even in her clothes.
A luxurious, unfamiliar room stretched around her—dark walls, expensive décor, floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the early morning light and turned it silver.
Her heart pounded in her ears.
What did she do?
Bella sat up quickly, clutching the sheets to her chest. Her pulse raced as pieces of the night returned in flashes—his touch, his voice, the heat in his eyes. But everything after that blurred into sensations rather than details.
The door to the bathroom opened.
Damian stepped out.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Just dark trousers sitting dangerously low on his hips, droplets of water sliding down the hard lines of his chest. His hair was damp, pushed back, making his jaw look sharper, more commanding.
Bella’s breath hitched despite herself.
He looked… untouchable.
Like temptation carved into a man.
And he looked directly at her.
“Awake,” he said quietly, as if he’d been waiting for her to open her eyes.
Bella clutched the sheets tighter. “Did we—”
“Yes,” he answered, unapologetically calm. “We did.”
Her stomach twisted.
“Oh God…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “This can’t be happening.”
Damian tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction. Not angry. Not smug. Just… observing.
“Do you regret it?” he asked.
Bella’s lips parted, but no words came out.
Did she regret the night?
Or did she regret waking up to reality?
She wasn’t sure.
She forced herself to speak. “I—I don’t usually do this. Any of this. I don’t sleep with strangers. I don’t even know your last name.”
Damian’s expression didn’t change.
But his eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes—softened by a fraction.
“Romano.”
The name landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Romano.
As in Romano Industries.
As in the billionaire empire dominating half the city.
As in the family whispered about in stories that didn’t feel like stories.
Her pulse quickened for an entirely different reason.
“You’re that Romano?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Bella stared. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.” He stepped closer, not threatening, just sure of himself. “And I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
She swallowed. Her cheeks warmed under his gaze.
Last night hadn’t felt like she was with a billionaire—or with a man feared by half the city.
It felt like she was with someone who saw her in a moment no one else noticed.
But reality pressed hard.
“I need to leave,” she said quickly. “This was a mistake.”
Damian didn’t move. Didn’t stop her.
But his eyes never left her.
“Your things are folded on the chair,” he said softly. “You can go whenever you want.”
Bella hesitated.
She expected him to be controlling, arrogant, possessive—like any dangerous man whispered about in shadows.
But he wasn’t.
Not now.
She slipped out of bed, the sheets falling away, and hurried toward her clothes. Her fingers trembled as she dressed. She could feel his gaze on her—quiet, intense, unreadable.
When she reached the door, she paused.
Damian was still watching her, but something in his eyes was different now—something she couldn’t name.
“Bella,” he said.
She turned slowly.
“Last night…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “It wasn’t nothing.”
Her heart stuttered.
She didn’t respond.
She couldn’t.
“Goodbye, Damian,” she whispered.
She left the room before she changed her mind.
Left the suite.
Left the hotel.
Left the dangerous heat of a man she should never see again.
But as she stepped into the cold morning air, her phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number:
“You left your necklace.”
Bella froze.
She touched her throat—empty.
Unknown number:
“I’ll return it. We’re not finished.”
Her blood ran warm and cold at once.
Because deep down, she knew he was right.
She could walk away from the night—
but not from him.
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