Chapter thirty two
1528 Words
The atmosphere in the penthouse had changed—subtly at first, then completely.
The air felt heavier.
The silence felt sharper.
The distance between them felt deliberate.
Damien moved like a shadow through the hallways, quiet, polished, controlled. He didn’t slam doors. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even look angry.
He simply… withdrew.
And somehow, that hurt Sienna more than any harsh word could.
Three days passed with barely a sentence exchanged. Three days of lingering glances that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Three days of walking past each other, brushing shoulders, feeling warmth and refusing to react to it.
It was torture. Slow, burning torture.
Sienna felt it in her chest every morning when she woke and reached for a man who was no longer beside her. Damien had stopped sharing the bed. He’d opted for the guest suite on the opposite side of the penthouse, his explanation short:
“Work.”
That was it.
One word.
No explanation, no reassurance, no attempt to comfort her.
And yet every night, she heard him outside her door. Paused. Breathing. Hesitating.
He never opened it.
He always walked away.
Tonight, the silence felt unbearable.
Sienna paced the living room in slow, tight circles. The lights of the city glowed beneath her, a smear of gold through the glass, but she couldn’t focus on anything.
She hadn’t expected to feel so empty.
She hadn’t expected to miss him this intensely.
Yes, Damien infuriated her. Yes, he confused her. Yes, he was colder than winter at times.
But she missed his presence, his warmth, the quiet protection he radiated without meaning to.
She missed the weight of his eyes on her.
She missed his hand at her back when they walked.
She missed the certainty of him.
And the part that hurt the most?
He missed her too.
She felt it—every time he lingered in the doorway, every time he paused before speaking, every time he refused to meet her gaze for fear that he’d break.
But he wasn’t willing to cross the distance.
Not yet.
Sienna stopped pacing, gripping the edge of the marble counter as she stared at the closed door of Damien’s office.
“He can’t just ignore me forever,” she whispered.
Her voice cracked on the last word.
The silence answered her.
Damien was inside the office—awake, but unmoving.
He sat at his desk, staring at nothing. His fingers gripped the edge so tightly his knuckles were white. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths.
It had been three days, and still he couldn’t bring himself to talk to her.
Not because he didn’t want to.
But because he wanted too much.
Every time he looked at her, he felt something shifting inside him—something he wasn’t prepared for. Something dangerous.
He had built his entire life on discipline, control, distance.
Sienna was undoing it piece by piece without even trying.
And now she wanted answers.
Answers he didn’t trust himself to give.
Damien stood abruptly, pushing away from the desk as he raked a hand through his hair. His reflection in the window stared back—a man unraveling at the seams.
“I shouldn’t have touched her,” he muttered.
“But God… I can’t stay away.”
His voice sounded like a confession.
A defeated one.
He moved toward the door.
Stopped.
Exhaled sharply.
Then kept walking.
Sienna heard his footsteps before she saw him.
Her heart kicked hard in her chest as she turned toward the sound.
Damien stepped into the room, tall, composed, impossibly gorgeous in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up—like he’d been fighting thoughts of her the entire night.
Their eyes locked.
The air thickened instantly.
Damien swallowed—barely noticeable, but she saw it.
She always noticed him.
Sienna straightened slowly. “You’re avoiding me.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m busy.”
“With what? Staring at your walls?” she shot back.
The heat in her voice surprised even her.
Damien’s expression flickered—guilt? frustration? longing?—before settling back into cold neutrality.
“You’re angry,” he said quietly.
He said it like a fact, not an apology.
Sienna scoffed. “Of course I’m angry, Damien. You kissed me and then you disappeared for three days.”
His eyes darkened.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
Her heart dropped. “You regret it.”
He didn’t deny it.
But the pain in his eyes was enough of an answer.
Sienna took a slow, shaky breath. “Why are you doing this?”
Damien’s chest rose and fell with restrained emotion.
He looked away first.
“Because I can’t give you what you want.”
“I didn’t ask you for anything,” she whispered.
“That’s the problem,” Damien said, voice breaking despite his control.
“You don’t ask.
You just… look at me, and I—”
He stopped himself.
Hard.
Like he was choking on the truth.
Sienna stepped closer.
He didn’t move.
But she felt the tension rip through him like lightning.
“What do you feel when you look at me?” she asked softly.
Damien’s breath hitched.
Just slightly.
But enough.
He clenched his jaw, eyes on the floor, voice low and raw.
“Too much.”
The room spun around her.
She took another half-step toward him. “Then why are you pulling away?”
“Because I don’t know how to do this,” Damien said sharply, finally meeting her gaze.
“I don’t know how to want someone without ruining them.”
Sienna’s chest ached. “You’re not ruining me.”
“I’m not good for you,” he ground out.
“I don’t know how to be gentle. I don’t know how to be open. And I don’t know how to stop wanting you in ways I shouldn’t.”
The admission sent a slow, warm shiver down her spine.
Her voice came out softer than she intended. “Damien…”
He exhaled shakily, like hearing his own name from her lips was too much.
But when she reached for his hand—just a touch, just a brush of fingers—he stepped back.
Her heart cracked.
Just a little.
The hurt must have shown in her eyes, because Damien froze.
“Sienna,” he said quietly, like it mattered, like he cared that he hurt her.
“I’m trying.”
“No,” she whispered. “You’re not.”
For the first time, Damien flinched.
She continued, voice trembling:
“You’re running. You’re terrified. You’re hiding from something real. And the worst part is… I’m not even asking you for anything. I just want honesty. I want you to talk to me. I want you to stop disappearing every time you feel something.”
Damien breathed out hard, frustrated—at himself, never at her.
“I don’t disappear.”
“You left the room three days ago and didn’t come back!”
Their eyes locked.
The pain between them was almost physical.
Damien’s voice softened, low and damaged.
“I didn’t come back because if I had… I wouldn’t have stopped at a kiss.”
Sienna’s breath caught.
Heat rushed through her, unwanted but unstoppable.
Damien saw it.
His eyes darkened.
He took one slow step toward her—close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from his body.
Close enough that the tension made her knees tremble.
“You have no idea,” he whispered, “how close I am to losing every shred of control around you.”
His hand lifted—slowly, hesitantly—until his fingers brushed her jaw.
A single touch.
Barely there.
But devastating.
Sienna leaned into it without thinking, her voice small. “Then lose it.”
Damien’s breath hitched.
He closed his eyes.
“I can’t.”
His forehead dropped to hers.
The gentlest touch.
The softest surrender.
“I can’t, Sienna,” he whispered again, broken.
“Because if I start… I won’t be able to stop.”
She swallowed hard. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
Damien’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
He was trembling—Damien Valerio, the cold, untouchable, terrifying man—trembling because of her.
He whispered, “You will.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Then show me.”
Silence.
A long, heavy silence.
And then Damien stepped away.
Not because he didn’t want her.
But because he wanted her too much.
“I need time,” he said quietly.
“For the first time in my life… I want to get this right.”
Sienna felt tears burn the back of her eyes.
Painful.
Beautiful.
Hopeful.
She nodded slowly.
And for the first time, Damien didn’t leave.
He stayed.
Right in front of her.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to feel.
But he didn’t touch her.
Not yet.
Their Cold War wasn’t over.
But something had shifted—quietly, powerfully.
Something they both felt.
The distance was still there.
But now…
Now it wasn’t fear.
Now it was longing.
- Writer
