Bound By Fire

Chapter Three

Amelia

I didn’t sleep. I told myself it was the caffeine, or the stress of the case, or the fact that the city never truly goes quiet. But the truth was simpler, uglier: every time I closed my eyes, I felt him. Damian Blackwood. His hand on my wrist, his mouth crushing mine like he still had some claim to me.

It had been years since I let myself think about him like that. Years of carefully rebuilding my walls, brick by brick, until he was nothing more than a cautionary tale I told myself when the nights got too long. And yet… one reckless kiss, and the cracks showed.

“Amelia?”

I looked up. Claire, my associate, was hovering in the doorway with a file pressed to her chest. Her dark brows furrowed. “You’ve been staring at the same page for the past ten to fifteen minutes.”

I forced a smile. “Just running through strategy.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she set the file down anyway. “You’re brilliant in court, Amelia. But you need rest. Damian’s team is ruthless, they’ll try to catch you off your game.”

Her words were meant to comfort, but they grated. Catch me off my game. Like I hadn’t already slipped. Like I hadn’t already given him ammunition in the form of my lips.

After Claire left, I leaned back in my chair and pinched the bridge of my nose. No more mistakes. I was Amelia Cross, New York’s shark in heels. I did not crumble. I did not falter. And I sure as hell did not kiss Damian Blackwood.

By the time we returned to court that afternoon, I had my armor on again: sleek suit, perfect bun, expression cool enough to frost glass. My client sat taller just looking at me.

Then he walked in.

Damian, with that effortless arrogance, like the room bent around him. He slid into his chair, loosened his cufflinks, and let his gaze wander deliberately until it landed on me.

Our eyes locked.

And just like that, the ghost of his mouth was back.

I swallowed hard, forcing my attention to the files in front of me. He wouldn’t see me flinch again. He could smirk all he wanted. Whatever storm he thought he’d reignited, I would bury it.

I had to.

-------------------------------------------

Damian

I slept like a man who’d won something.

Because I had.

That kiss wasn’t a slip, wasn’t a weakness, it was proof. Proof that no matter how much Amelia Cross pretended otherwise, the fire between us hadn’t died. She still wanted me. Her body betrayed her before her mind had the chance to shut it down.

I knew her too well. She was probably furious with herself, pacing her pristine apartment, drowning in work to forget me. Amelia’s greatest weakness was that she believed control was the same as strength. All I had to do was push, and the cracks would widen.

And I intended to push.

By the time I arrived in court, my plan was already forming. It wasn’t just about winning anymore, it hadn’t been since the moment I saw her again. No, this was about dismantling her defenses one by one until she admitted the truth neither of us could ignore.

When she looked up at me across the aisle, trying so hard to mask the flicker in her eyes, I nearly laughed. She thought she was untouchable. But I’d already touched her.

As the proceedings droned on numbers, testimony, legal jargon, I let my mind drift to possibilities. A casual leak to the press about how close Amelia and I once were. A “chance” encounter at one of the charity galas I knew she attended. An offer to settle the case privately, just to force her into a room with me.

Patience, I reminded myself. The game was just beginning. And if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s playing for high stakes.

When recess was called, she rose with all the grace of a queen who thought she’d triumphed. I let my gaze trail after her, unapologetic, until she stiffened under it.

She could run. She could pretend. But I’d already decided.

This wasn’t over. Not until Amelia Cross admitted she still burned for me.

And she would.