Cracks in Ice
1306 Words
The morning sun crept through the penthouse windows, spilling soft gold across the bed’s tangled sheets. Lena stirred slowly, the ache between her thighs a lingering echo of the night before—of Damian’s hands, his voice, his ruthless control.
She blinked against the light, her body sore in ways that made her shiver with memory. And yet… there was a new emotion rising in her chest.Something close to fear. Not of him, but of the way he’d made her feel.
Because last night wasn’t just s*x. Not really.
He had touched her like he was trying to brand her. Owned her like he was afraid she’d disappear. And for a moment—just a sliver of a moment—she’d seen behind the ice in his eyes. She’d glimpsed something raw. Broken.
And that terrified her.
She turned her head slowly.
Damian sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, already dressed in dark slacks, his hair mussed, his jaw tight. He hadn’t noticed she was awake—his attention was focused on a file in his lap. But the tension in his shoulders betrayed the war going on in his head.
She sat up quietly, wrapping the silk sheet around her. “You always read financial reports after s*x?”
He looked up, startled—but his mask slid on within a heartbeat. “You’re awake.”
“You sound disappointed.”
He stood, closing the folder with a snap. “You have a shoot later today. Your art feature in that magazine… I made a few calls.”
Lena blinked. “You… helped?”
“I own the publisher,” he said flatly. “It was easy.”
She tilted her head. “Why would you do that?”
His jaw ticked. “Because a scandal involving you damages my public image. Your success is part of the package now.”
A lie. Or at least, not the whole truth.
“You’re infuriating,” she muttered.
“And you’re reckless,” he shot back. “You flirted with another man last night. In front of me. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I was being polite.”
“You were provoking me.”
Lena stood, the sheet slipping slightly, revealing the bruises blooming across her hips—evidence of just how far he’d been pushed.
He went still.
“I like that I got under your skin,” she said softly. “But you didn’t have to help me with the magazine.”
His eyes dropped to the marks he’d left on her. She saw it then—the flicker of guilt. Or something that looked too much like it.
“You didn’t stop me,” he said quietly.
“No,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to.”
Silence stretched between them.
He stepped closer, reached out—and for a moment, she thought he’d touch her. But his hand hovered in the air and dropped back to his side.
“This… whatever’s happening between us,” he said, his voice tight, “isn’t part of the plan.”
“No,” she agreed. “But neither were the rules you made. You broke them first.”
Damian turned away, tension radiating from every line of his body.
“You should get dressed. The driver’s waiting downstairs.”
With that, he left—sliding the glass door shut behind him like he needed physical space between them.
Lena stared after him, her pulse still racing, her skin still humming from the night before.
She was falling for a man made of steel and secrets.
And maybe… just maybe… he was falling too.
But if she wasn’t careful, loving Damian Blackwood would be the most dangerous thing she’d ever do.
Lena stood in front of the easel, brush trembling in her fingers as she stared at the unfinished painting. The colors blurred. The image—a broken city skyline against a bleeding sunset—refused to come together.
Just like her thoughts.
Last night had rewired something in her. Damian had taken her with a desperation that had nothing to do with control and everything to do with need. His body told one story. But his eyes… his silence afterward…
He was hiding something. And now, her curiosity wouldn’t rest.
She hadn’t intended to snoop. But when she returned from her gallery interview that afternoon, Damian’s office door had been ajar. And the folder—carelessly left on his desk—had practically called to her.
At first, she thought it was another merger. Financial reports. Names of executives.
Until she saw the headline.
“BLACK WOOD SCANDAL: SUCIDE ROCKS BILLIONAIRE FAMILY”
Her blood turned to ice.
Lena sank into the leather chair, scanning the article. Her breath caught.
Elijah Blackwood. Damian’s younger brother.
Dead at seventeen.
The words blurred again.
“ELIJAH BLACKWOOD JUMPED FROM THE BALCONY OF THE BLACKWOOD ESTATE IN CONNECTICUT. ALLEGATIONS OF ABUSE, FINANCIAL PRESSURE, AND INTERNAL FAMILY CONFLICT REMAIN UNCONFIRMED. DAMIAN BLACKWOOD THEN TWENTY TWO, HAS REFUSED ALL PUBLIC STATEMENTS SINCE THE INCIDENT”.
Lena’s heart dropped.
That’s why his eyes were always so hollow.
Why he locked himself behind glass and stone.
He’d watched his brother die—and the world had blamed him.
Footsteps.
She stood instantly, guilt flushing her cheeks as Damian appeared in the doorway.
His gaze snapped to the open file. His jaw clenched.
“What are you doing in here?” His voice was soft—but lethal.
“I—I wasn’t looking for anything,” she stammered. “I saw the article and—Damian, I’m sorry.”
He crossed the room in two strides, snatched the folder, and slammed it shut.
“Leave.”
“No.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t get to shut me out again.”
“This isn’t your concern.”
“It is if you’re still bleeding from it. If it’s why you keep everyone at arm’s length. Why you won’t let me in.”
Damian’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly.”
“Then help me understand.”
He turned his back to her, shoulders rigid. The silence hung heavy, like he was fighting a war inside himself.
“When Elijah died,” he said finally, “I stopped being human.”
Lena held her breath.
“I was supposed to protect him. But I was too focused on becoming my father’s heir. Too obsessed with power. And I missed the signs.”
Lena moved closer. “You were twenty-two. Barely an adult yourself.”
“I made him promises. I told him I’d get him out. He believed me.” Damian’s voice cracked—just for a second. “But I was too late.”
She reached for his hand. To her surprise, he didn’t pull away.
“I don’t feel things easily, Lena. I can’t afford to.”
“But you feel them for me.”
Silence.
His thumb brushed against her wrist. The contact was featherlight—but charged.
“You shouldn’t have read that file,” he murmured.
“Maybe not,” she whispered. “But now I see you, Damian. And I’m not running.”
He looked at her then, really looked—like she was the first real thing he’d touched in years.
“You’re dangerous,” he said hoarsely. “You make me want things I shouldn’t.”
Lena stepped closer, sliding her arms around his waist. “Then want them.”
He kissed her—hard. Not with dominance, but with need. Desperation.
As if she was the only thing keeping him tethered.
And as she melted into him, Lena knew this wasn’t just s*x anymore.
It was the start of something deeper. Something that could either heal them…
Or destroy them both.
- Writer
