First Impressions
1057 Words
I woke up to shouting; for one disoriented second, I didn’t remember where I was, then I saw the unfamiliar ceiling and the misty fog humming outside through the windows.
Damien’s penthouse. I sat up.
The shouting came again.
I grabbed the nearest sweater and hurried into the hallway.
Damien was standing near the entrance, speaking to two men in suits.
His expression was ice.
“What do you mean she disappeared?”
One of the men swallowed.
“We lost her at the hospital.”
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
Damien’s jaw tightened.
“Find her.”
“Sir—”
“Now.”
The men left.
I stepped into the hallway.
“What happened?”
He turned. His eyes immediately softened when he saw me.
It was so subtle I almost missed it.
“You’re awake.”
“What happened to Chloe?”
“We don’t know.”
“But you said she was safe.” That came as a yell rather than a question,
“She was.”
“Then how did she disappear?”
“We’re trying to find out.”
I walked toward him.
“You said the hospital was secure, and you would ask them to take her home and guard her and whatever.” I was stumbling again and picturing all the things about Chloe,
He brushed his temples and sighed, “It was.”
“Then someone must have,”
His expression hardened.
“Yes.”
“Which means whoever is doing this is closer than we thought.”
He didn’t answer.
I stared at him.
“Damien.”
“What?”
“Tell me everything.”
“No.”
My anger rose. “You brought me into this.”
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“You walked into it yourself.”
I froze.
There was something in his expression.
Something that made me wonder whether he knew far more about me than he should.
Before I could ask, his phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes?”
A pause.
“Where?”
His face went still.
“Don’t touch anything. I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“What?”
“They found Chloe’s phone.”
“Where?”
“In your apartment.”
My blood ran cold. I couldn't think of anything now but rushing to that damn apartment and finding something useful to find Chloe.
Twenty minutes later, we were standing outside my building. Police hadn’t been called.
Damien had brought two security men. I stared at my front door.
It was unlocked.
“I locked that.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“Stay behind me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not helpless.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
He opened the door. The apartment looked normal.
Too normal.
Nothing was overturned.
Nothing appeared stolen.
Then I saw it.
A photograph sitting on my kitchen table.
My father.
I stopped breathing for a second; I moved toward it.
Damien grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t.”
I looked at him.
“It's just a picture, and that’s my father.”
“I know.”
He pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket. Then carefully picked up the photograph. Something was written across the back.
He read it.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
I turned it over.
Three words.
ASK HIM WHY.
I looked at Damien.
“Why what?”
He didn’t answer.
“Damien.”
He stared at the photograph.
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“No.” His voice was unusually tense.
“Your father and I had secrets.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that got him killed.”
I stepped closer.
“And you’re still not telling me.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Stop using that excuse.”
His eyes flashed.
“It’s not an excuse.”
“Then what is it?”
He stepped toward me.
“The truth.”
He was close.
Too close.
“Which is?”
“That the more you learn about your father…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“…the more dangerous this becomes.”
I stared at him.
“Maybe I don’t care.”
“I do.” The words came immediately.
His hand caught mine.
“I care.”
My anger faltered.
His thumb brushed over my knuckles.
“You have no idea how much.”
The room went silent.
I looked up.
He was staring at me differently again.
Not like an employer.
Not like an enemy.
Like someone trying desperately not to want something.
Me.
I swallowed.
“Damien…”
He leaned closer.
He was so close to me,
This time, there was no phone call.
No interruption.
Just us.
His hand moved to my waist.
Mine rested against his chest.
His heartbeat was fast.
I smiled faintly.
His grip tightened slightly.
The word was almost a whisper.
He leaned down.
His lips brushed mine.
Barely.
A question.
I answered by closing the distance.
The kiss was brief.
Soft.
Nothing like what I’d expected from him.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine.
And for one dangerous moment, I forgot every reason I had ever hated him.
Then his phone rang.
We both froze.
Damien looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then his eyes lifted to mine.
“Seraphina…”
Something in his voice made my stomach drop.
“What happened?”
He turned the phone toward me.
A photograph filled the screen.
It was me.
Taken outside Blackwood Tower.
Underneath it was a message.
SHE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
Another message appeared.
NEXT TIME, SHE WON’T WALK AWAY.
Damien’s face became terrifyingly calm.
He put the phone away.
“You’re not leaving my side.”
I stared at him.
“And if I refuse?”
His eyes held mine.
“Then I’ll follow you.”
There was no teasing in his voice now.
No arrogance.
Just a promise.
And for the first time, I realized something far more frightening than the person hunting me.
Damien Blackwood wasn’t simply protecting me anymore.
It felt like he was hiding something or was more protective of me than he should have.
And I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to stop him.
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