CH 11 Under His Watch
446 Words
I was still replaying Mason’s words hours later, long after the studio had gone quiet. His tone hadn’t been the kind you could brush off as empty posturing — it carried weight, the kind that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
That’s why, when the elevator doors slid open and Damien returned, I didn’t even pretend to be casual.
“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Who is he?”
Damien’s gaze locked on mine, unreadable. “Someone who’s been on the wrong side of me for a long time.”
“And now on mine,” I countered.
He stepped forward, his presence filling the room. “Which is exactly why you’re not going home tonight.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re staying with me. Until I’m sure he won’t come near you again.”
My instinct was to refuse — to insist I didn’t need protecting. But the memory of Mason’s smirk and the way he’d said my name made my skin crawl.
Damien must have seen the hesitation in my face, because his tone softened. “Elara. I don’t take chances with what matters to me.”
The words slipped under my defenses before I could stop them. “And I matter?”
His jaw flexed, like he hadn’t meant to reveal that much. “More than I should admit.”
---
His penthouse felt different that night. Not just a space of glass and steel, but something warmer… or maybe that was just the way his eyes followed me as I set my bag down.
“You can take the guest room,” he said, though his gaze lingered a beat too long.
I nodded, trying not to notice the way his tie hung loose around his neck, or how his sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms.
Over dinner — something he’d had sent in rather than cooked — the conversation kept slipping toward the unspoken. Every glance felt charged, every silence heavy.
At one point, he set down his glass and said, “If Mason reaches out to you, you tell me. Immediately.”
“Because you’ll handle it?”
“Because I’ll end it.”
The finality in his voice sent a shiver through me.
Later, in the guest room, I tried to sleep. But through the half-open door, I caught sight of Damien on the balcony, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink, staring out at the city like he was calculating every possible threat.
And in that moment, I knew — whatever this was between us, I was already in deeper than I’d planned.
- Writer
