CH 9 Close Enough to Break
403 Words
The city was quiet when Damien pulled up outside my apartment building.
I reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped me. “Elara.”
I turned.
“Come upstairs. Just for a drink.”
It was phrased as an invitation, but his eyes made it something else — a challenge, maybe even a confession.
Against every piece of better judgment I had, I nodded.
---
His penthouse was exactly what I imagined: sleek, minimal, floor-to-ceiling glass that swallowed the skyline. Everything was in sharp lines and muted tones, except for the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
He poured two glasses of whiskey and handed me one. “To unexpected company,” he said, raising his glass.
I arched a brow. “You invited me.”
“And you came.”
The way he said it made my pulse skip.
We stood by the window, the city lights sprawling endlessly below. “Why keep the youth center a secret?” I asked quietly.
He took a slow sip before answering. “People expect me to be a certain way. Controlled. Ruthless. The moment they see something different, they look for a weakness to use against me.”
“And you think kindness is a weakness?”
His gaze slid to mine, steady and intense. “No. But you can’t weaponize what they don’t know exists.”
For a long moment, we didn’t speak. The hum of the city filled the silence, but it wasn’t enough to drown the tension stretching between us.
I set my glass down, meaning to step back — but he moved closer, closing the space until the heat of him wrapped around me.
“Damien…”
“Yes?” His voice was low, almost dangerous.
“This… is a bad idea.”
He studied my face like he was memorizing it. “The worst,” he agreed softly.
And yet neither of us moved.
His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down my spine.
Then, almost reluctantly, he stepped back. “Go home, Elara. Before I change my mind.”
I left without looking back, but the reflection of his gaze stayed with me long after I’d closed my apartment door — and I knew it was only a matter of time before one of us stopped walking away.
- Writer
