Chapter 2: The Morning After
1388 Words
Sunlight filtered through silk curtains, warm and golden, spilling across sheets that smelled like him leather, spice, and something darker I couldn’t name.
I blinked, disoriented.
Soft mattress. High ceiling. A skyline view that looked too expensive to be real.
Where the hell
My eyes snapped open.
Oh God.
Last night.
The club. The shots. His mouth. My name moaned over and over into the darkness.
I sat up quickly too quickly. My head pounded, and the room tilted sideways. I groaned and grabbed the edge of the bed, trying to breathe through the pounding in my skull.
A rustle of movement made me freeze.
Then
“You’re awake.”
His voice. Deep. Calm. Rough from sleep.
I turned my head slowly and found Damon standing at the foot of the bed, shirtless in gray sweatpants, holding a glass of water and two pills in his hand.
“Headache?” he asked.
I stared at him.
This man had f****d me like I was a religion.
Now he was offering me painkillers like a gentleman.
“…Yeah,” I muttered.
He walked over, handed me the pills and water, and I drank without speaking. My mouth was dry, my throat sore, and my entire body ached in the best, most sinful way.
“You okay?” he asked, sitting beside me.
I nodded slowly. “I think so.”
He looked at me for a moment, eyes sharp like he was trying to read all my secrets again.
“You left your necklace on the nightstand,” he said. “Didn’t want you to forget it.”
I glanced toward the little chain with the worn locket I never took off except, apparently, when drunk and getting railed by a billionaire.
I picked it up. “Thanks.”
He leaned in slightly. “You ran out of tequila shots, so l used my tongue instead.”
I choked on air. “Jesus.”
He smirked. “Don’t worry. You didn’t cry. You begged. Beautifully.”
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, cheeks flaming.
He caught it mid-air and laughed.
God. His laugh.
It wasn’t cold like I expected from someone like him. It was warm. Real. Like maybe he didn’t laugh often, but when he did it meant something.
I pulled the covers tighter around me, suddenly aware of my nakedness beneath the sheets.
Damon watched, one brow raised. “Shy now? That’s cute.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You’re irresistible.”
I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched.
“What time is it?” I asked, glancing around for a clock.
“Just past ten.”
“Shit.” I sat up again. “Amanda’s probably flipping the hell out.”
“You told her where you were going?”
“No. But she knows I didn’t go home.”
He nodded. “Want me to take you back?”
I hesitated.
Home meant hushed judgment. Victoria’s icy stare. Chloe asking questions she wasn’t old enough to ask. Michael wanting to play while I had zero energy.
And my father pretending not to notice anything because noticing meant choosing sides.
“I don’t want to go back yet,” I said quietly.
Damon stood and walked to the window, pulling the curtain slightly to the side. Morning lit up the scars on his back jagged reminders that this man wasn’t just beautiful. He was dangerous.
I found myself asking, “Who are you, really?”
He turned slowly. “Why do you ask?”
“You don’t just look like trouble. You feel like it.”
He smirked. “And yet you’re still in my bed.”
“I never said I was smart.”
He walked toward me, each step quiet and controlled.
“You want answers, Eva?”
I nodded.
He sat beside me again, close enough to feel the heat of him.
“I run things,” he said simply. “I own properties. Clubs. Warehouses. Most people don’t ask where the money comes from. They just take it.”
“So… you’re mafia.”
“I’m whatever I have to be to survive.”
There was no bravado in his voice. Just truth. And it sent chills down my spine.
“I should be scared of you” I whispered.
“You’re not.”
“Should I be?”
His jaw tightened. “Probably.”
I met his eyes.
“Are you going to hurt me, Damon?”
“No.”
That single word wrapped around me like armor. Like maybe for once, someone wasn’t going to leave me bleeding.
He leaned in, brushing my cheek with his thumb. “Last night wasn’t just sex.”
I swallowed. “Then what was it?”
“You told me you didn’t feel seen. But I saw you, Eva. I see you.”
My throat burned. No one had ever said that to me before.
No one had ever meant it.
We spent the rest of the morning wrapped in sheets and soft conversation.
I told him about my childhood about being the secret baby left behind, about my mother walking away, about Amanda trying to include me but never fully knowing how.
About Victoria, who acted like I contaminated the family air.
He told me bits and pieces—about growing up without softness, about learning power the hard way, about losing people and never being allowed to grieve them.
By the time he offered me a second cup of coffee, I felt more seen than I had in years.
But reality doesn’t pause just because you meet a man with magic in his hands.
My phone buzzed.
Amanda.
22 Missed Calls.
Sh*t.
“Guess I can’t avoid them forever,” I muttered.
Damon stood and handed me one of his button-up shirts and a pair of joggers.
They were way too big.
I wore them anyway.
The drive home was quiet. Not awkward just full.
His hand stayed on my thigh the whole ride, thumb stroking slowly, as if he was trying to reassure me.
“Call me when you get inside,” he said when we reached my street.
I nodded, reluctant to leave his car.
I stepped out, heart heavier than I expected.
“Eva.”
I turned back.
He leaned across the seat, eyes burning into mine. “This isn’t over.”
“I know.”
Then he was gone.
I entered the house through the side door. The air inside was thick with tension. Amanda’s voice drifted from the kitchen fast, loud, pissed.
“You were supposed to watch her, not let her disappear with some random stranger, Amanda!” Victoria hissed.
“She’s not a child, Vic. Maybe she needed a break!”
“She’s reckless. You’re encouraging it.”
I slipped past, up the stairs.
But Victoria caught sight of me. “Well, look who finally crawled home.”
I stopped halfway up.
Amanda turned and let out a relieved breath. “Jesus, Eva! Where the hell have you been?”
“I’m fine,” I said softly.
Victoria crossed her arms. “That’s not the point.”
Amanda walked over, gripping my arms. “You disappeared. I thought God, Eva, I thought something happened.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Victoria scoffed. “You never mean to. But you always do.”
Amanda glared at her. “That’s enough.”
“No. I’m done coddling her.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m tired.”
I turned and headed up the stairs without another word.
In my room, I stripped off Damon’s clothes, folded them carefully, and sat on my bed.
His scent still clung to the fabric.
For a moment, I just closed my eyes and imagined I was still with him.
Not in this house. Not in this life.
Then I picked up my phone.
Me: Made it home.
Damon: Did they give you hell?
Me: Just Victoria. Amanda was worried.
Damon: You don’t have to stay there forever.
My heart skipped.
Me: You don’t even know me.
Damon: Then let me.
That night, I dreamed of fire.
Of blood. Of tattoos inked into skin with secrets.
And Damon’s voice in my ear, whispering, “You belong to me now.”
- Writer
