MY SAVING DOOM

TOO CLOSE

I should have known Claire wouldn’t let it go.

By the time I dragged myself behind the counter the next morning, she was already there waiting for me, leaning against the register with the biggest cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, sipping her coffee like she was about to deliver world-shaking news.

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?”

She batted her lashes innocently. “Me? Nothing. Well… unless you count saving your love life.”

My stomach dropped. “Claire.”

“Relax!” She waved her hand like I was being dramatic. “It’s just a date. You’re welcome.”

“A date?” My voice cracked. “With who?”

“My cousin’s friend,” she said proudly. “Ethan. He’s tall, works construction, ridiculously hot. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor.”

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Claire, I told you—”

“You told me you’re obsessed with a guy you shouldn’t want,” she interrupted, smirking. “So obviously you need a distraction. And what better distraction than a man with arms the size of my waist and a smile that could melt glaciers?”

I peeked at her through my fingers. “You already set this up, didn’t you?”

“Eight o’clock tomorrow night.” She winked. “You’re welcome.”

I slammed my hands down on the counter, earning a weird look from a customer passing by. “Claire!”

“What?” she said, completely unbothered. “You need this. You’re wound tighter than a drum. If you don’t blow off some steam soon, you’re going to combust. And trust me, you don’t want to be the girl who combusts at work. Very messy.”

I groaned again, dragging the receipt book toward me like I could bury myself in paperwork. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” she said cheerfully. “But I’m not wrong.”

The mark on my wrist pulsed under my sleeve, hot, almost angry. My throat tightened. I didn’t need a mirror to know Damian would hate this if he knew. The thought of me even thinking about someone else would set him off.

And yet, wasn’t that exactly why I should go? To prove—to myself, to him, to the universe—that I wasn’t his to control?

Claire nudged me. “So? What are you wearing?”

I looked at her like she’d sprouted two heads. “You’re insane if you think I’m actually going.”

Her grin widened. “Oh, you’re going. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell Ethan you chickened out, and he’ll be crushed. You don’t want that guilt, do you?”

I dropped my head onto the counter with a groan. Damian might kill me for this. But Claire? She might actually drag me there by my hair if I refused.

By the time my shift ended, I was already planning my excuses. Headache, exhaustion, maybe even a dramatic fainting spell if I had to. Anything to avoid walking into some awkward blind date with a stranger.

But Claire had other plans.

“Uh-uh, don’t even think about it,” she said, blocking the exit like a bodyguard as I tried to slip past. “You’re going. Tonight. And you’re not wearing that.”

I looked down at my work shirt, wrinkled from a long day, and groaned. “Claire, seriously—”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully, grabbing my arm. “You’re coming to my place. We’re raiding my closet. And you’re not leaving until you look like a goddess.”

Before I knew it, I was standing in her apartment while she flung dresses and tops onto the bed like a madwoman.

“Claire, this is insane—”

“Shut up and put this on.” She shoved a little black dress into my hands.

I held it up, horrified. “This is barely fabric.”

“It’s called confidence,” she said, grinning. “Try it sometime.”

Twenty minutes later, after being wrestled into the dress, forced into heels, and attacked with Claire’s makeup brushes, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. My hair framed my face in soft waves, my lips were glossy, and the dress clung to me in ways that made my cheeks burn.

But when my gaze slid to my wrist, my breath caught.

The mark. The silvery glow. It was still there, pulsing faintly like it had a life of its own.

“Claire…” My voice shook. “You don’t see that?”

She frowned, coming closer. “See what?”

I lifted my wrist. “Right here.”

She squinted, then shrugged. “All I see is skin. And damn, girl, you need lotion.”

I stared, my stomach twisting. So it was just me. Only I could see it.

Great. So not only was I doomed, but apparently I was also hallucinating my way to insanity.

“Perfect,” I muttered under my breath.

“Perfect is right,” Claire said, spinning me toward the door. “Now let’s go before you chicken out.”

She literally dragged me into the cab, cackling like an evil witch while I sulked beside her.

By the time we reached the bar, I was ready to crawl under a table and hide. But then I saw him.

Ethan.

And yeah… Claire hadn’t exaggerated.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark messy hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed in the hottest way possible. He wore a tight black t-shirt that clung to muscles I didn’t even know existed in real life. And when he turned, his grin was so wild it nearly knocked the breath out of me.

“Nanya, right?” His voice was rough, playful, like he was already in on a joke I didn’t know. “Damn, Claire wasn’t kidding. You’re gorgeous.”

I blinked, stunned. “Uh—”

He stepped closer, leaning in just enough to make my pulse jump. “Relax. I don’t bite.” Then he smirked. “Unless you want me to.”

Claire choked on her drink, laughing way too loud. “Told you he was wild.”

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. But Ethan just winked, gesturing to a booth in the corner. “Come on. Let’s sit before I scare you off.”

I followed, my wrist burning under my sleeve like it knew exactly what I was doing. Like Damian was watching, furious.

And maybe he was.

Because the whole time Ethan talked—fast, wild, throwing out jokes and stories that made Claire cackle and roll her eyes—I couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was already on its way.

Ethan was a storm of energy, his words tumbling over each other as he told stories about his job, his friends, the time he nearly broke his arm trying to show off on a motorbike. He was loud, confident, reckless — the exact opposite of Damian’s cold, terrifying control.

Claire was eating it up, laughing until tears streaked her eyeliner. “See?” she nudged me under the table. “You need this. Normal fun. Flirt with him, for God’s sake. He’s practically drooling over you.”

I forced a smile, sipping at my drink. My wrist burned under my sleeve, the mark pulsing like it knew I was betraying something. Or someone.

After a while, Claire stood, grabbing her purse. “Alright, kids, I’m going to the restroom. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winked before sauntering away, leaving me alone with Ethan’s wild grin.

My heart lurched. “She’s insane,” I muttered, fiddling with my glass.

Ethan chuckled, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “Nah, she’s a good friend. Knows how to push people out of their comfort zone. Which is exactly where you are right now.”

Heat crept up my neck. “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” His gaze flicked down to my lips, then back to my eyes. “You don’t look fine. You look like you’re fighting with yourself.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. He wasn’t wrong.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a husky drawl. “I’m not here to make you uncomfortable. But if you want me to back off… just say it. Otherwise…” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne washing over me, warm and reckless.

My breath caught.

He was inches from me now, close enough that if I turned my head the wrong way, our mouths would meet.

The mark on my wrist flared hot, searing like fire under my skin. My body trembled, every nerve screaming one name that wasn’t his.

Damian.