Blackwood Empire

Too Close

I should have been terrified. Someone had threatened me. Someone had broken into my apartment.

Chloe was missing.

And Damien Blackwood had just kissed me.

Yet somehow, the thing keeping me awake wasn’t the threat.

It was the kiss.

I hated that.

I hated it even more than I wanted another one.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes.”

I looked up.

Damien stood across the breakfast table, dressed in a black suit, reading something on his tablet.

“I’m reading.”

“No, you’re pretending to read.”

“You seem very interested in what I’m doing.”

His eyes lifted.

“I am.”

The answer came too quickly.

My stomach fluttered.

I looked back down.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re distracted.”

“I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

I put my coffee down.

“Do you interrogate everyone you have breakfast with?”

“I don’t have breakfast with everyone.”

I looked at him.

He held my gaze.

The silence stretched.

I broke it first.

“We need to find Chloe.”

“We will.”

“And whoever sent those messages.”

“Yes.”

“And Northstar.”

His expression changed.

“We’re getting closer.”

“To what?”

“The person behind it.”

I leaned forward.

“Do you know who it is?”

“Not yet.”

“But you have a suspect.”

“Several.”

“Who?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t want you involved.”

I laughed bitterly.

“I’m already involved.”

His eyes hardened.

“That’s exactly what worries me.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it. Then stood.

“I have to go.”

“Where?”

“Meeting.”

“I’m coming.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t a meeting you need to attend.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

He looked at me for several seconds.

“Someone from Northstar wants to meet.”

My pulse jumped.

“Who?”

“Someone who claims to know what happened to your father.”

I stood.

“I’m coming.”

“Seraphina—”

“I’m coming.”

He sighed.

“You don’t listen.”

“Neither do you.”

His mouth twitched.

“Fine.”

The drive to the hotel was silent. He was still on his iPad, reading or doing whatever he was doing on it, and I was staring out the window, wondering how Chloe was right now. Don't worry, Chloe, we will find you.

The meeting was at a private hotel. We stepped into the private dining area, and Damien insisted I stay beside him.

I pretended not to notice the way his hand occasionally brushed mine as we walked. The man waiting for us was unfamiliar.

Mid-fifties.

Expensive suit.

Nervous eyes.

He looked at Damien.

Then me.

“She’s the Rhodes girl.”

My body went rigid. Damien stepped slightly in front of me.

“Watch what you say.”

The man swallowed. “I know who she is.”

“Then you know why you’re here.”

He nodded.

“I know who killed her father.” He leaned back in his chair.

My heart stopped.

“Who?”

The man looked toward the door.

“Not here.”

Damien’s expression darkened.

“Then where?”

“I have the files.”

He reached into his briefcase.

A gunshot shattered the window. The man collapsed.

Everything happened at once.

Damien grabbed me and pulled me down. Glass exploded across the room.

“Stay down.”

Another shot.

Damien covered my body with his.

My heart pounded against my ribs.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

I did.

His face was inches from mine.

His hand cupped the back of my head.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He stood at once, but the gunshots stopped. He searched for something, like he had known what he was looking for and sighed with his hands on his waist, and then looked at me,

Then his eyes closed briefly. Like he was trying to control something.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You’re lying.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’m angry.”

“At who?”

His eyes met mine.

“Anyone who thinks they can touch you.”

The words left me speechless.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Damien helped me up. His hand never left mine. “Let's get out of here.”

We stepped into the car and returned to the penthouse; neither of us spoke during the drive.

When we got home, I walked straight to the kitchen.

Damien followed.

“You should sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You’re lying again.”

I turned.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you care.”

His expression changed.

“I do care.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not who you think I am.”

Silence.

His eyes narrowed.

“What does that mean?”

I looked away.

“I mean…”

I couldn’t finish. He stepped closer. “Seraphina.”

I felt his fingers beneath my chin.

He gently turned my face toward his. “If there’s something you’re hiding from me, tell me.”

My heart was pounding in my chest.

I couldn’t.

Not yet.

His gaze moved over my face.

Then he whispered,

“You’re going to destroy me.”

My breath caught.

He leaned closer.

This kiss wasn’t like the first.

It was slower.

Deeper.

Still restrained, but charged with everything neither of us had said.

His hand settled at my waist.

Mine caught his shirt.

For a moment, there was no investigation.

No threats.

No lies.

Just us.

Then I pulled away.

Damien looked at me.

“Why did you stop?”

“Because this is a mistake.”

His expression hardened.

“Maybe.”

He stepped back.

“But I’m starting to think I don’t care.”

I walked away before he could see how much I didn’t care either.

..................

That night, I was in my room resisting my urge to open my laptop so I could wait a few days till I had to hate him again, but that didn't stop me when I saw a new file popping up on my desktop. There was a new file which I hadn’t created.

My blood went cold, my trembling hands clicked.

A single photograph appeared.

Damien.

My father.

And another man was standing between them.

I recognized him immediately.

The man we’d just met.

The man who had been shot.

Underneath the photograph was a date.

Three days before my father’s death.

Then a message appeared.

You keep looking for the wrong enemy.

I stared at the screen.

Another line appeared.

Ask Damien what he promised your father.