Damien’s penthouse was silent, but the tension inside was electric, almost suffocating. He sat in his high-backed leather chair, glass of scotch untouched, eyes fixed on the cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Each flickering light, each passing car, reminded him of her absence—the sharp, maddening void Bella had left in his life. He had underestimated her once, allowed her to escape. Never again.
His mind replayed every moment they had shared, every glance, every whispered word, every breathless night. It wasn’t just lust anymore; it had evolved into something far more dangerous. Obsession. An all-consuming need to possess her completely. He had tasted her fire, felt it spark against his own, and now he was addicted. The thought of her with anyone else, of her living her life
