THE DEVIL'S ASSISTANT

Dangerous Territory

Selena:

By Wednesday I had learned three things about Damien Croft.

One — he never raised his voice. He didn't need to. The quieter he got the more dangerous he became.

Two — he watched me. Not obviously. Not the way other men watched women. Subtle. Calculated. Like I was something he hadn't figured out yet.

Three — he had absolutely no concept of personal space.

It happened that morning.

I was reviewing his schedule when he stood up directly behind me. I felt him before I heard him. The warmth of him. The faint scent of expensive cologne and something darker underneath.

He reached past me to point at the document.

His chest brushed my back. Just barely. Just enough.

"Move this meeting to Thursday." His voice was low against my ear.

"The Thursday slot is already taken." My voice came out steady. Barely.

"Then move whatever is in it."

His hand rested on the desk beside mine. Not touching. Just there. Caging me without caging me. If I turned around our faces would be inches apart.

I didn't turn around.

"Is there anything else?" I asked.

A pause. Long and deliberate.

"No." He stepped back. "That will be all."

I let out a breath so quietly he couldn't hear it.

Damien

I needed to stop standing so close to her.

I understood that completely. She was my employee. There were lines.

I had never been particularly interested in lines.

At 7PM the floor was empty except for us. Normal. What wasn't normal was how aware I was of every movement she made. The way she bit her lip when she concentrated. The way she pushed her hair back then forgot about it thirty seconds later.

Small things. Irrelevant things.

I couldn't stop noticing them.

She stood to bring me a file and caught her heel on her chair.

I was across the room before I decided to move.

My arm caught her around the waist — firm and instinctive — pulling her back against my chest before she hit the ground. The file scattered. Neither of us looked at it.

She was pressed against me, my arm locked around her, her hand gripping my forearm. I could feel her heart hammering through her back. Or maybe that was mine. I couldn't tell anymore.

She turned her head slowly.

Inches from mine. Lips slightly parted. Eyes wide and dark with something that wasn't quite fear and wasn't quite want but lived dangerously in the space between.

"I —" she started.

"Don't." My voice came out lower than intended.

Her breath hitched.

I should have let her go. Every rational part of me said step back. Instead my arm tightened around her waist — just slightly. Just enough that she felt it.

Her fingers curled tighter around my forearm.

"You can let me go." she whispered. "I'm fine."

"I know." I didn't move.

She turned until she was half facing me. This close I could see everything — the flush creeping up her neck, her chest rising and falling faster than normal, her eyes dropping to my mouth then snapping back up like she was angry at herself for it.

I understood that feeling completely.

"Damien." My name on her lips for the first time. Not Mr. Croft. Not sir.

Damien.

Something shifted in my chest. Deep and dangerous.

I loosened my arm slowly. Let her find her footing. But I didn't step back. Neither did she.

We stood in the empty office with the city glittering behind the glass and the silence pressing around us like a living thing.

"Go home Selena." I said quietly.

She looked at me for one long moment. Searching for something in my face I wasn't ready to give her yet.

Then she picked up the scattered papers, gathered her things and walked to the door.

She paused without turning around.

"Goodnight Damien."

The door clicked shut behind her.

I stood in the silence and pressed two fingers to my jaw.

This was becoming a problem.