Losing Control
644 Words
The elevator descended in silence.
Heavy silence.
The kind that pressed against Isabella’s ribs until breathing felt difficult.
Damian stood directly in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, but he wasn’t touching her.
Not anymore.
And somehow that felt worse.
“You embarrassed me,” she said finally.
His jaw tightened slightly. “I protected you.”
“From a harmless coworker?”
“He wasn’t harmless.”
Isabella stared at him in disbelief. “Ethan asked me to dinner, Damian. He didn’t threaten my life.”
“No,” Damian said calmly. “He threatened my patience.”
Her breath caught.
God.
Everything he said sounded dangerous.
“You don’t own me.”
The second the words left her mouth, the atmosphere shifted.
Damian went still.
Terribly still.
Then slowly—
“I know that,” he said quietly.
The softness in his voice unsettled her more than anger would have.
Because for the first time since meeting him, he looked genuinely affected.
Almost wounded.
And suddenly Isabella realized something important:
Possession wasn’t what scared Damian.
Rejection was.
The thought hit her unexpectedly hard.
“You think I’m trying to control you,” he murmured.
“Aren’t you?”
“No.” His dark eyes locked onto hers. “I’m trying not to lose my mind every time another man looks at you.”
Her pulse quickened despite herself.
“That’s not healthy.”
“I never claimed to be healthy.”
The elevator doors opened into the underground parking garage.
Damian stepped out first, then paused beside a sleek black car waiting near the corner.
Rain echoed faintly through the concrete structure while tension coiled tightly between them.
“You should go back upstairs,” Isabella said quietly.
Instead of answering, Damian opened the passenger-side door.
Her brows furrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Get in.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
Neither moved.
Finally, Damian exhaled sharply and leaned one hand against the car roof, lowering his head briefly like he was fighting himself.
When he looked back at her, the darkness in his eyes had shifted again.
Less anger.
More honesty.
“I scared you upstairs,” he admitted quietly.
The confession surprised her.
“You scare me constantly.”
“I know.”
Something about the guilt in his voice softened her frustration slightly.
Damian rarely apologized directly. Men like him weren’t built for vulnerability.
Yet here he was trying in the only way he knew how.
“You can’t act like that,” she said more gently. “I’m allowed to talk to people.”
“I know.”
“But?”
His mouth tightened.
“But the thought of someone touching you makes me violent.”
The raw truth of it sent a shiver down her spine.
Not because he sounded proud.
Because he sounded ashamed.
For a long moment neither of them spoke.
Then Isabella asked carefully—
“Why me?”
Damian looked at her like the answer was obvious.
“Because you’re the first thing I’ve wanted that feels impossible to survive losing.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
He stepped closer slowly.
“I’ve spent years feeling nothing,” he murmured. “Then you walked into that hotel elevator and suddenly every instinct I have became about keeping you.”
His hand lifted hesitantly toward her face.
Hesitantly.
As if he wasn’t sure she’d let him touch her anymore.
That tiny uncertainty broke something inside her.
“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.
His fingers brushed softly against her cheek.
“I’m trying very hard to be gentle with you.”
The words wrapped around her heart like smoke.
Because she believed him.
And that was becoming the real danger.
- Writer
