Crossing the Line
1536 Words
The moment the car door shut behind them, Lena exhaled sharply. “That was insane.”
Damian barely glanced at her, loosening his tie with a smooth pull. “You handled it well.”
She scoffed. “That was not handling it. That was pure survival mode.”
Outside, the paparazzi still hovered, cameras flashing against the tinted windows. The entire breakfast at The Windsor had been a carefully orchestrated performance, and she had played her part. Smiling. Laughing. Looking at Damian like he was the center of her world.
But the second they were alone again, reality crashed back in. She wasn’t his doting fiancée. She was just Lena, the woman who had signed a deal with the devil. And right now, that devil was staring at him with a look that made her stomach twist.
“You enjoyed it,” he murmured. Lena blinked. “Excuse me?” His smirk was infuriating. “The attention. The cameras. The way everyone looked at you.”
She huffed. “Oh, please.” But even as she denied it, her pulse raced. Had she?
The way people gawked at her, the way Damian’s hand stayed firm on her waist, making her feel claimed—it was intoxicating. Dangerous. And the worst part? She wasn’t sure if she hated it.
*******Back at the Penthouse*****
Lena kicked off her heels the second they walked inside. “Remind me why I agreed to this again?” she muttered, stretching her sore feet.
Damian, already heading toward the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of scotch. “Because you had no choice.” She scowled. “You really suck at pep talks, you know that?”
He poured himself a drink, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. “I don’t believe in sugarcoating reality.” Of course, he didn’t.
Lena moved toward the couch, running a hand through her hair. The adrenaline from the morning had finally worn off, leaving her exhausted.
But before she could even think about unwinding, Damian spoke again. “Come here.” Her body tensed.
She turned to find him watching her—his gray eyes unreadable, his broad frame relaxed yet completely in control. “What now?” she sighed.
He gestured toward the space in front of him. “Lesson two.” She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so we’re numbering these now?” “Come here, Lena.” His voice was quieter this time, Lower.
Something about the way he said her name sent a slow, unwanted shiver down her spine. Still, she walked toward him, stopping just a breath away. “Alright, boss. What’s lesson two?”
His gaze flickered to her lips.
And just like that, the air shifted.
Her pulse pounded as she took an instinctive step back. But Damian caught her wrist. “Don’t flinch,” he murmured. Lena swallowed hard. “I—”
“You need to get used to me touching you.”
Her stomach flipped.
“This whole engagement,” he continued, his voice slow, deliberate, “depends on how real we make it look. That means eye contact. Chemistry. Believability.”
Her breath hitched as he lifted her hand to his lips. A featherlight kiss, Soft. Barely there. But devastating.
Her fingers curled instinctively, her entire body locking up. “See?” His voice was a quiet taunt. “You’re stiff. You look like you’re about to bolt.”
“Because you—” She swallowed. “You caught me off guard.” He tilted his head. “Then let’s fix that.” His grip on her wrist loosened, only for his other hand to settle on the small of her back, Warm. Firm.
Lena’s heartbeat skyrocketed.
She should pull away. She should say something sarcastic, something that would break this unbearable tension. But then Damian leaned in, Not touching her lips. Just hovering. Close enough that his breath ghosted against her skin.
“Relax,” he murmured.
Relax?
Was he insane?
Lena’s hands pressed against his chest, not to push him away—but to steady herself. His scent—clean, expensive, intoxicating—wrapped around her, Her body betrayed her, Her breath shook, Her lips parted.
She felt him smirk.
“Better,” he murmured.
And then—he stepped away.
Just like that.
As if he hadn’t just ignited something dangerous. As if she wasn’t standing there, her entire body thrumming with frustration. “That’s lesson two,” he said smoothly, pouring himself another drink. “Learn to be comfortable with me touching you. Otherwise, everyone will see through the act.”
Lena gawked at him.
The bastard had played her.
Worse? She had let him.
Later That Night Lena paced her bedroom, fuming. She replayed the moment over and over—the way his lips had hovered over hers, the way her body had betrayed her so easily.
It didn’t mean anything, She needed to remind herself of that, This was an act, Nothing more.
Still, when she finally crawled into bed, sleep didn’t come easily. Because every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was the way Damian Blackwood almost kissed her.
And the terrifying part? She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stop. Her body was still buzzing from earlier. The way Damian’s hand had settled on her lower back. The whisper of his breath against her lips. The way he had watched her, completely in control while she struggled to hold herself together.
It was a test, It meant nothing, And yet, her skin tingled at the memory, She groaned, shoving a pillow over her face. This was exactly what he wanted. To get inside her head. To throw her off balance.
Well, screw that.
Throwing off the covers, she climbed out of bed. Maybe a drink would help.
She padded barefoot into the living room, the penthouse eerily quiet. But the second she stepped toward the kitchen, she froze.
Damian was already there.Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, glass in hand, the city lights reflecting off his sharp, chiseled features.
His jacket was gone. His tie undone. The first two buttons of his shirt were open, revealing a sliver of his toned chest.
Lena’s mouth went dry, Damn him. Did he have to look like that?
“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, rough.
She hesitated, then walked over to the kitchen island. “Not with so many mind games swirling in my head.”
He smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I told you to relax.”
“Oh, right. My mistake,” she said dryly. “Next time you decide to put your lips an inch from mine, I’ll be sure to act casual.”
His eyes darkened slightly. “It wasn’t just my lips that got to you.” Her breath hitched.
Damn it. Why did he always do this?
Lena crossed her arms. “Are you always this cocky?”His smirk deepened. “Only when I’m right.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly are you ‘right’ about?” He stepped closer, Slow, Deliberate.
“You’re drawn to me,” he murmured. “Even though you don’t want to be.” Lena’s pulse spiked.
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “You think I’m just another woman who’ll fall at your feet, don’t you?” “I think you’re fighting yourself,” he countered. “And losing.”
Her jaw clenched.
He was insufferable. Arrogant. Controlling.
And yet…
The air between them throbbed with tension, thick and heady. His scent—clean, expensive, masculine—wrapped around her. She should move. Create distance. But her feet stayed rooted to the floor.
“You want proof?” Damian murmured. Before she could process what he meant, he reached out—trailing his fingers lightly along her arm.
A barely-there touch. But electric, Lena sucked in a sharp breath. Her entire body reacted instantly. Goosebumps rose. Her skin burned where he touched her.
His eyes flicked to hers, reading her every response. “You feel that?” he whispered.
She did, God help her, she did.
But she refused to let him win, Summoning every ounce of self-control, she took a step back. “I feel a rich asshole who enjoys messing with people.”
His smirk didn’t fade. “And yet, you didn’t pull away immediately.” Lena gritted her teeth. “I hate you.”
He chuckled, deep and smooth. “No, you don’t.” Her hands curled into fists. “You are the most—”
“Go to bed, Lena,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “We have another public event tomorrow.”
Her stomach flipped.
Another event?
“You should’ve told me,” she snapped.
“You’ll adapt,” he said, turning back toward the window. “Lesson three, remember?”
She exhaled sharply, glaring at his broad, infuriating back, Tomorrow, she would be standing next to him again. Playing the perfect fiancée. Pretending she wasn’t affected by him.
But the truth was clear, She was affected by him and if she wasn’t careful, Damian Blackwood might be the one thing she couldn’t control.
- Writer
