Chapter Four :A Dangerous Game
870 Words
I should have known Damien Sinclair wouldn’t let me walk away so easily.
From the moment I stepped into that elevator, leaving him standing there with his unreadable smirk and quiet warning, I felt it this wasn’t over.
Men like him don’t play fair.
They don’t let things go.
And Damien? He had just decided I was his next conquest.
I should have been afraid of that.
But I wasn’t.
I was excited.
I spend the rest of the day pretending I’m unaffected.
I go through my meetings, answer emails, and sip my overpriced coffee, all while ignoring the way my body hums with restless energy.
I don’t see Damien again.
Not in the office. Not in passing.
But I feel him.
It’s ridiculous, really how the absence of a man can be just as oppressive as his presence.
By the time the workday ends, I’m exhausted.
Not from work.
From him.
I gather my things and head toward the elevator, determined to shake off whatever spell he’s put me under.
I press the button, exhaling slowly as I wait.
The doors slide open.
And then everything changes.
He’s inside.
Standing at the back of the elevator, hands in his pockets, watching me.
Waiting.
My breath catches.
The doors start to close, and for a split second, I consider stepping back.
Leaving.
But then I meet his gaze dark, knowing, laced with a challenge.
And I step inside.
The silence is thick, suffocating.
The air between us crackles like static, heavy with something unspoken.
I keep my eyes on the numbers above, watching them count down, ignoring the way my pulse hammers in my throat.
Ignoring the way he’s standing so still, so calm.
Like he already knows what’s about to happen.
Like he’s planned it.
The elevator dings softly as we descend.
Then it stops.
A jolt.
The lights flicker.
I blink, my stomach twisting as I glance at the panel. The numbers freeze on 10.
"What the"
Before I can finish, Damien moves.
One second, he’s at the back of the elevator.
The next he’s in front of me.
I inhale sharply as his hands press against the mirrored walls, caging me in.
"Damien"
"Shh."
His voice is soft. Dangerous.
I look up, meeting his gaze, and my pulse spikes.
It’s not just desire in his eyes.
It’s control.
Possession.
Like he’s already decided how this ends.
My chest rises and falls rapidly. "The elevator"
"I had it stopped."
A chill skates down my spine.
"You"
"I told you, Selena," he murmurs. "You’re making a mistake."
I swallow hard, my heart slamming against my ribs. "And what mistake is that?"
His smirk is slow, devastating.
"Thinking you can walk away."
A shiver runs through me.
Not from fear.
From something far more dangerous.
I open my mouth to argue, to throw something sharp and clever between us a barrier, a shield.
But I can’t.
Because before I can breathe, before I can think, he tilts my chin up with a single finger.
And then he kisses me.
It’s not gentle.
It’s not sweet.
It’s possession.
His lips crash against mine, demanding, ruthless, like he’s claiming something that’s already his.
A sound escapes me part shock, part surrender and his fingers tighten in my hair, pulling, keeping me still as he deepens the kiss.
My hands press against his chest, not to push him away, but to steady myself.
To hold on.
Because I’m falling.
And I don’t want to stop.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless.
Shaken.
Ruined.
Damien smirks, brushing his thumb over my swollen lips.
"You wanted to play, Selena," he murmurs. "Now it’s my turn."
I try to gather my thoughts, to rebuild the walls he just tore down with a single kiss, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his voice a low whisper that sends a shiver down my spine.
"Do you feel it?"
I do.
It’s everywhere.
A heat curling low in my stomach, a pulse pounding between my legs.
I exhale sharply. "You’re very sure of yourself."
He chuckles, low and knowing. "You haven’t given me a reason not to be."
I want to argue. I want to say something sharp, something that will turn the game back in my favor.
But then his hand slides down my arm, slow and deliberate, his fingers skimming my wrist, and I forget how to breathe.
"You can still walk away," he murmurs, eyes locked onto mine. "Say the word, and I’ll step back."
It’s a challenge. A test.
I wet my lips, pulse hammering. "What if I don’t say it?"
His eyes darken.
And that’s when I realize I’ve just made my second mistake.
The elevator jolts back to life.
The numbers start counting down again.
Damien steps back, adjusting his cuffs like nothing just happened, like he didn’t just unravel me with nothing but his mouth and his hands.
The doors slide open.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then he leans in one last time, his breath warm against my skin.
"This isn’t over," he murmurs.
And then he walks out, leaving me standing there, shaking.
Completely undone.
- Writer
