16. Harmony
Harmony
His tap on my door is soft. That’s how I know something’s wrong.
Damien doesn’t do soft.
I crack the door open, peeking through like a scared little rabbit, and find him leaning against the frame with his arms crossed—tight enough to cut circulation, like he’s holding something in.
“Harmony,” he says, voice low.
I open the door the rest of the way. “Yes?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just studies me.
I hate when he does that. Like he’s trying to solve a riddle I didn’t mean to become.
“I want you to take Brooke out today.”
I blink. “Out? Where?”
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Hair appointment. Shopping. Whatever you need to do to get her ready for auction.”
My stomach turns.
“What if she tries to run?” I ask, though I already know.
His eyes harden. “I’ll send Reese with you, although I don’t think I can trust him.”
My heart skips.
He ’s watching me. Always watching. I give a soft smile, stepping closer, sweet and safe like he needs me to be.
“You can trust him,” I say gently. “He’s never done anything to betray you.”
“Hasn’t he?” Damien murmurs, almost to himself.
I reach up and place my hand lightly on his chest.
“You trust me, don’t you?” I ask.
His jaw clenches. “Yes.”
“Then let me handle it.”
He exhales through his nose, grabbing my wrist—not hard, not soft. Just firm.
“One mistake,” he warns, “and I’ll bury both of you.”
I nod. “There won’t be a mistake.”
He stares a second longer before releasing me.
“Reese is on his way.”
Of course he is.
I shut the door and leaning my head against the wood. One breath. Two.
Then I go find Brooke, who’s humming to herself like we aren’t living in Hell.
* * *
Reese pulls up in the matte black SUV, as if it’s just another day. Damien watches from the front steps, arms crossed, face unreadable.
Brooke climbs in the backseat, bubbling with nerves and excitement. I open the passenger door, but hesitate before getting in.
I turn back to Damien.
He gives me a look that says I’ll know if you lie.
I nod once.
Then I get in.
Reese doesn ’t speak for a minute. Just drives.
But I can sense it in the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel—the tension, the pressure, the knowing.
We’re both being watched.
We’re both playing roles.
But only one of us is going to survive it.
* * *
Brooke twirls in front of the dressing room mirror like this is a goddamn movie montage.
“Do you think this is too much?” she asks, spinning in a light blue sundress that somehow makes her look both younger and older all at once.
“It’s perfect,” I say, grabbing a matching pair of sandals off the display. “He’ll love it.”
She beams like that’s a good thing.
I glance sideways at Reese, who’s leaning against the wall by the entrance.
His arms are crossed. His mouth is neutral.
But I catch the way his eyes soften when Brooke smiles.
Not in a creepy way. In a human way. Like even he isn’t immune to the rare, fragile beauty of someone who still thinks the world might love her back.
“Can I try on one more?” she asks, voice sweet, eyes wide.
I nod. “Go ahead.”
As soon as she disappears into the dressing room, I walk over to Reese. I don’t know what my plan is, but he said he could help me. I think I’d like to explore that option. Plus, I owe him.
He doesn’t look at me right away. “She’s doing better.”
“She’s good at pretending,” I say. “She learned from the best.”
His jaw flexes. “You’re not pretending.”
“Maybe not with her,” I whisper. “But with him? Every second.”
We stand there in silence. Long enough for the hum of fluorescent lights to start to buzz in my brain.
Then he speaks, voice low and firm. “I’m proud of you.”
I blink. “Why?”
“For getting her out. For surviving this long. For still knowing who you are.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t.
“You know, Brooke said you don’t believe in happy endings,” he says.
“I don’t,” I reply.
“Me neither.”
And then—goddammit—he moves closer.
It’s not sexual. It’s not rushed. It’s just… real. And dangerous. And wrong.
His hand brushes mine. Not enough to hold it, just enough to make me feel it. Like static surging throughout my delicate hand.
I turn toward him.
Our faces are too close. Too aware.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He leans in anyway, forehead brushing mine. His breath hits my lips. “Then don’t.”
But I do.
It’s fast and soft and selfish—just a kiss. Just a moment. But it’s enough to wake every nerve in my body like a fire alarm.
When we pull away, I’m breathless. We say nothing. Brooke flings open the door, beaming. “Okay, now this one is definitely the one!”
And just like that, it’s over.
Reese backs away. I smile like I haven’t lost my mind. And Brooke spins for us again, safe in her delusion. We let her have it. She has no idea what she’s walking into. But then again, neither do we.
I watch her as my mind reels. How stupid am I? Kissing Reese in public after Damien’s threat.
Maybe I do have a death wish after all.
* * *
The moment we pull back into the driveway, my heart skips like it’s trying to warn me. Reese parks without speaking. He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t look at me. Not after earlier.
The kiss sits heavy between us. Unspoken. Untouchable. Dangerous.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I unbuckle.
He nods once. Jaw tight. “Good luck.”
Brooke practically bounces out of the back seat, shopping bags swinging in her arms like prizes. “This was the best day ever! I can’t wait to show—”
“Brooke,” I cut her off gently. “Go put everything in your room, okay?”
She blinks at my tone, then nods. “Okay.”
As she disappears through the front door, I steel myself. It’s time.
I walk inside slowly, shutting the door behind me.
Damien is waiting in the living room, sitting in his leather chair like a king on a throne. One leg is crossed over the other. A glass of whiskey in his hand.
He looks up at me.
Then, he smiles.
Fuck.
“You took her shopping,” he says, voice calm.
“Yes,” I answer, carefully. “I made sure she got enough. She’ll look the part.”
He tilts his head. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you have fun?”
It’s a trap. It has to be.
I nod once. “I did.”
He stands slowly, setting the glass down on the side table. He closes the space between us in five slow steps. I hold my breath.
He brushes a strand of hair off my face, fingers lingering against my cheek. “You did well today.”
My eyes widen. “I… did?”
He nods. “You kept her safe. You got her what she needed. You came back when I asked.”
I can’t speak. This isn’t the version of him I was prepared for. This isn’t the monster I braced myself to fight.
“I wasn’t sure I could trust you,” he admits, thumb grazing the line of my jaw. “But I think… maybe I can.”
A chill runs down my spine. He means it.
God help me—he fucking means it.
He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “Don’t give me a reason to change my mind.”
I nod slowly. “I won’t.”
“Good girl.” His praise slides down my neck like oil.
And just like that, he steps away. Walks off toward the hallway like he didn’t just pin my soul to the wall with nothing but his approval.
I stand there in silence, heart pounding like a war drum.
Because being trusted by Damien?
Is so much worse than being feared.
* * *
The water is scalding.
I need it to burn. I need it to erase everything—Damien’s praise, Brooke’s smile, the way Reese looked at me when we kissed like the world was en ding and we wanted it to.
Steam curls around me, licking the tile as I rest my forehead against the glass. My chest aches. My throat tightens. I shouldn’t want this.
But I do.
His name doesn’t leave my lips, but his image is everywhere. The memory of his voice. The way his hands hovered without touching. The restraint. The danger.
God, the restraint is what undid me.
I close my eyes, let my hands wander like a prayer I shouldn’t say. Like a sin I’m desperate to commit. I snake my hand between my legs, rubbing my clit to the image.
I try to picture nothing, but all I see is him. Standing close. Breathing heavily. The way he said “good luck” like it meant everything and nothing at all.
The way his jaw clenches. The way he exists. It all comes crashing in on me at once.
My breath hitches as my hips move in slow circles. My pulse throbs in my ears. Warmth spreads to my core at the forbidden desire.
I move my hand quickly as Reese clouds my thoughts.
He doesn’t even have to touch me to ruin me. He looks at me as if he could devour me, and still have an appetite. He craves me, as I crave him. I just know it.
The water masks every sound, but I bite my lip anyway. If he knew—if Damien knew—I’d be dead.
That’s what makes it worse.
That’s what makes it better.
I sink to my knees under the stream, letting the heat scald my skin raw while my body trembles from the inside out.
And when I finally break, I do it in silence. With his name carved into my ribs and shame wrapped around my throat like silk. I shudder beneath the stream, letting stars dance across my vision.
I stay there long after the water has turned cold.
Because the second I leave this shower, I have to pretend I never felt a thing.
And I did.