Chapter three
766 Words
Chapter Three: No Rules, No Mercy
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The next Evening at 7:02 PM, Soho Private Restaurant
Ava stepped into the dimly lit lounge with her heart thudding against her ribcage like a ticking bomb.
She’d worn black. Classic. Powerful. A dress that whispered authority but still clung to her curves like a dare. Her heels clicked softly against the marble as a host led her to the private booth where he waited.
Damien Wolfe.
Already seated. Already watching her.
“Right on time,” he said, rising as she approached.
“You were serious,” Ava said, setting her clutch down. “A dinner invitation? From a client?”
He poured her a glass of wine. “From a man who hasn’t stopped thinking about you.”
Her jaw tightened. “This—whatever this is—has to end.”
He leaned forward. “Then why are you here?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because the truth was, she didn’t know.
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Over Dinner
They didn’t talk about business. Damien asked her about college. Her favorite city. What scared her. What drove her.
Ava answered more honestly than she should’ve.
She asked about his upbringing—his father’s company, the pressure to keep building, the responsibility behind the headlines.
He answered more softly than she expected.
“I’m not always the man people expect me to be,” Damien said, twirling the stem of his glass.
Ava met his gaze. “And who are you now?”
He didn’t blink. “Still trying to be the man you’d want more than one night with.”
Her breath caught.
“I’m not looking for anything real,” she said quickly.
“Neither am I.” He smirked. “But you and I both know reality doesn’t belong between us.”
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Later That Night — Damien’s Car
They didn’t kiss at the restaurant.
But the moment the car door shut, and the divider rose between them and the driver, Ava lost the will to resist.
Damien’s mouth was on hers before she could speak. His hand cradled her jaw like he was starving for the taste of her, and she responded with a hunger that frightened her.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against her lips.
“I can’t.”
And she didn’t.
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Damien’s Penthouse — 11:48 PM
The moment they entered, Damien spun her against the wall, lips dragging down her throat.
“I don’t do relationships,” she warned, breathless.
“I don’t either.”
“No feelings.”
“No rules,” he countered, lifting her into his arms. “Just this.”
When they collapsed onto his bed moments later, it was a war of mouths and bodies. A surrender disguised as dominance.
And Ava lost track of how many times she let go.
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Midnight — In the Aftermath
She lay against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in months, her mind was silent. No deadlines. No fears. No plans.
Just his arm wrapped around her.
But the silence didn’t last long.
“I want to see you again,” Damien murmured.
Ava stiffened.
“This can’t happen again,” she whispered.
He didn’t move. “Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“Isn’t that what makes it interesting?”
She sat up. “I need to protect what I’ve worked for. You’re a client, Damien. If anyone finds out—”
“I won’t tell a soul,” he said. “I will give you my word.”
But Ava didn’t believe in promises from men like Damien Wolfe.
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The Next Morning — Back to Business
At Wolfe Global’s Monday strategy session, Ava walked in like nothing had happened. Crisp white blouse. Tight bun. Tablet in hand. Cool, controlled.
Damien? Already seated. Already collected.
He didn’t look at her once during the meeting.
But when everyone stood to leave, he brushed past her and whispered slowly, “You’ll come back. Because I’m already under your skin.”
She didn’t reply. Didn’t have to.
Because he was right.
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> That evening, Ava returned home to find a black envelope tucked into her apartment door.
No name. Just a gold wax seal.
Inside was a handwritten note:
One night turned into two.
Now let’s make it three.
Come to me. Midnight. The address is below.
Her hands s
Hooks, she read it.
Because the of address?
Was his private estate in the Hamptons.
And Ava knew if she went…
She’d never walk away the same.
—
- Writer
