The Truth in Ink
596 Words
Naomi’s fingers tightened around the napkin, her pulse hammering as she scanned the room.
No one was looking at her.
No suspicious figures lurking in the shadows. No mysterious glances from across the ballroom.
But someone had slipped her this.
"You don’t know the truth."
Her stomach twisted.
What truth? About Damian? About Hayes? About the world she had just stepped into without a lifeline?
"Everything okay?"
She startled slightly as Damian appeared at her side, his dark eyes scanning her with quiet intensity.
She could still feel the weight of his warning from earlier—He’s trying to rattle you. Ignore him.
But now, this napkin, this message—
Someone else was trying to warn her, too.
"Fine," she said, forcing a steady breath. "Just needed a second to breathe."
Damian’s gaze flickered down to her hands, still clutching the napkin.
Her heart stopped.
Before he could ask, she shoved it into her clutch, forcing a casual smile. "You don’t seem like the kind of man who enjoys these events," she deflected. "Why throw yourself into the fire?"
For a second, she thought he wouldn’t let the subject drop.
Then, mercifully, he played along.
"The fire is where deals are made," he said smoothly. "And where enemies reveal themselves."
Her stomach twisted at the word.
Enemies.
Like Hayes. Like whoever had left her this message.
"You have a lot of those, don’t you?" she asked.
Damian let out a low hum of amusement, but there was something hard beneath it. "Comes with the territory."
His eyes searched hers then, his expression unreadable. "Do you regret staying?"
A test.
She could feel it.
She held his gaze, steady. "No."
His lips barely twitched, but something in his posture eased.
"Good."
Before she could ask why that seemed to matter so much to him, a new presence approached.
A woman.
Tall, poised, beautiful in a way that made Naomi instantly aware of every borrowed thread on her body.
And Damian’s expression shifted.
The cool, controlled businessman suddenly seemed—tense.
"Damian," the woman greeted, her voice as smooth as silk. "It’s been a while."
Naomi glanced between them.
There was history here.
And when the woman’s gaze finally landed on Naomi, her smile curled into something sharper.
"And you must be the new entertainment."
The insult was casual, barely disguised.
Naomi’s spine straightened. "And you must be the ex."
A flicker of something—amusement?—crossed the woman’s face.
Damian’s ex.
Of course.
"That’s adorable," the woman said smoothly. "Does she bite, Damian? Or do you just like collecting strays?"
Naomi’s blood boiled.
But before she could open her mouth, Damian spoke.
His voice was cold.
"Leave, Genevieve."
Genevieve.
A name that carried weight.
The woman smirked. "Touchy."
And then, just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.
Naomi exhaled sharply. "She seems charming."
Damian ran a hand through his hair, tension still coiled in his frame. "She’s not your concern."
A statement. A warning.
But Naomi wasn’t stupid.
Between Hayes’ cryptic message and this little encounter, something told her—
Genevieve was a much bigger problem than Damian was letting on.
Chapter Six:
Later that night, Naomi sat in the back of the car, her mind racing.
The napkin was still in her clutch.
A warning. A threat.
Or maybe…
A clue.
And when she finally unfolded it, she saw it—
Not just the words.
But an address.
Someone wanted her to follow the truth.
And against every rational thought in her head—
She was going to.
- Writer
