Tempting the Untouchable

CH 8 Behind Closed Doors

I wasn’t planning on following him.

But when Damien left the studio that night without his usual driver, sliding into a dark sedan and heading toward the quieter part of the city, curiosity clawed at me. He’d peeled back just enough of himself the other night to make me wonder who he was when the suit and the boardroom weren’t watching.

The cab I took kept a safe distance. He stopped in front of an old brick building with peeling paint and a sign that read St. Augustine Youth Center.

I slipped out of the cab and lingered across the street, watching as Damien stepped inside. Moments later, through the wide front window, I saw him surrounded by a half-dozen kids — not the polite, guarded Damien I knew, but a version of him laughing, crouching down to their level, listening intently to whatever they were telling him.

Something in my chest shifted.

An hour later, he emerged, rolling his sleeves up as he locked the door behind him. That was when he saw me.

“Elara.” His voice was sharp with surprise, but there was no real anger.

“I was in the neighborhood,” I lied. Badly.

His eyes narrowed. “Try again.”

I lifted my chin. “You disappear for days and then show up here, helping kids in a run-down youth center. Forgive me if I wanted to know why.”

For a moment, I thought he’d brush it off. But instead, he leaned against the wall, looking almost… tired.

“It was my father’s,” he said finally. “He ran this place before… before everything. I kept it going because someone had to.”

I didn’t press, even though the weight in his voice made me want to ask a hundred questions.

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer until the streetlight caught the sharper lines of his face. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll see something you don’t want me to?”

His gaze caught mine, steady and unflinching. “Afraid you’ll see too much.”

The air between us was thick, charged in a way that had nothing to do with the chill in the night air.

Then, almost reluctantly, he said, “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

And as I slid into his car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just stepped over a line neither of us could uncross.