✨Chapter Seven: Storms We Can’t Escape
994 Words
AVA
There were two kinds of storms.
The kind that came with warning signs—thunder, dark skies, rising winds.
And the kind that brewed quietly beneath the surface, striking when you least expected.
Damien Blackwood was both.
Ever since his mother’s warning, my world hadn’t felt stable. Her words echoed like an alarm in the back of my mind, reminding me that the man I was letting into my bed, into my life, came with shadows I couldn’t see.
But I didn’t walk away.
I should have.
Instead, I threw myself into work, determined to separate the personal from the professional. Damien, to his credit, respected my space. No late-night texts. No stolen kisses in the office. He kept his distance.
Too well.
It was like watching the tide retreat before a tsunami. And I knew something was coming.
---
On Monday morning, I found a package on my desk.
No name. No note. Just a slim black envelope sealed with wax.
My fingers hesitated before opening it. A chill climbed my spine as I broke the seal.
Inside was a single photo.
Me. Damien. At the gala.
We were on the terrace, mid-conversation, leaning closer than we should have been. I remembered that moment. He’d brushed a hand down my arm, whispering something that made my heart skip.
The back of the photo was scrawled with six words:
"You’re not the first. Be smart."
My throat dried.
There was no signature. No indication of who sent it.
But I had a sickening feeling in my gut.
Someone was watching.
I shoved the photo in my drawer and locked it.
---
DAMIEN
"Who the hell gave this to the press?"
My voice cracked like a whip as I threw the tabloid onto the conference table. A grainy photo of me from five years ago stared back—shirtless, bloodied, being shoved into a police car.
The headline read:
"Blackwood's Billionaire Playboy Past Exposed: Violence, Scandal, and Secrets."
My executive team exchanged glances, none of them brave enough to speak.
Only Ethan, my head of legal, dared to breathe. "We're handling it. The incident was sealed, the charges dropped. We can spin this."
"It was supposed to be gone," I growled.
And it was. I'd paid enough to bury that night. But apparently, someone was digging.
And not just into me.
I thought of Ava. Of the look in her eyes when we were together. The trust she hadn’t said aloud but I could feel in the way she touched me.
This scandal could destroy that.
Could destroy her.
I needed to find out who was behind this.
---
AVA
"Celine wants to see you."
Tina, the new PR intern, looked apologetic as she peeked into my office. I sighed and stood, straightening my blazer.
Celine.
Always dressed like she was heading to a fashion editorial shoot, lips painted blood red, hair like polished obsidian.
She waited in the boardroom, legs crossed, sipping a green smoothie.
"You rang?" I said coolly.
She smirked. "Let’s skip the attitude, Ava. I just wanted to offer some sisterly advice."
I folded my arms. "I’m listening."
She slid a folder across the table. "You might want to read this before tomorrow's strategy presentation. You’re representing Damien now. One wrong quote and the sharks will smell blood."
I flipped it open. It was an old newspaper clipping.
Damien’s mugshot.
Assault. Nightclub brawl. Injured victim declined to press charges.
My chest constricted.
"Where did you get this?"
She shrugged. "Let’s just say... people talk. Especially when they see someone like you playing house with someone like him."
I held her gaze. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because you’re walking into something you don’t understand. Damien’s not Prince Charming. He’s the dragon. And girls like you get burned."
My hand clenched around the folder. "Thanks for the warning. I’ll take my chances."
Her smile was all teeth. "Suit yourself."
---
That night, I didn’t sleep.
I Googled everything I could. The police report. The club. Witness statements.
The official story was vague. Damien had defended a woman from a group of men. Things escalated. No one died. No charges stuck. But the details were murky.
Still, it didn’t sound like he was the villain.
So why hide it?
And who was working so hard to unhide it?
I needed answers.
---
DAMIEN
I found Ava waiting in my office.
She didn’t say anything as I closed the door behind me.
Then she held up the folder.
"Is it true?"
I didn’t pretend not to understand. I simply nodded.
"Why didn’t you tell me?"
"Because it doesn’t define me. And because I knew what it would make you think."
"I don’t think you’re a monster, Damien. But you have to stop hiding pieces of yourself from me."
I moved closer, hands shaking with restraint. "You want the truth?"
She nodded.
"Then I’ll tell you. All of it."
---
AVA
He told me everything.
About Isabelle.
The woman from his past. The night at the club. How he tried to protect her and lost control. How the trauma of that night changed him—made him close off, harden his heart.
"She didn’t leave because of me," he said quietly. "She left because I couldn’t let go of the guilt. And I see myself going down that road again... with you."
I touched his hand. "Then don’t let go. Not this time."
For the first time, Damien looked scared.
Not of the press. Or of the scandal.
Of me. Of us.
Of feeling something real.
And maybe that meant there was still hope.
But as we sat there, the phone on his desk buzzed.
He picked it up.
His expression changed.
"What? When? ...Shut down all leaks. Lock down security. I want a name."
He hung up and looked at me, face stone cold.
"Someone just breached our internal servers. PR files. Confidential emails. Yours and mine included."
The storm had arrived.
---
- Writer
