3. Damien
3
DAMIEN
The moment I step out of the shower, my phone buzzes on the counter.
I ignore it at first, grabbing a towel and running it over my hair before wrapping it around my waist. Steam curls around the mirror, distorting my reflection, but my mind is already elsewhere—half on the deal I closed earlier, half on the lingering irritation from today’s meeting.
Too many people talking. Too many half-baked ideas thrown around like they meant something.
Useless.
I rub a hand over my face and pick up my phone.
A single unread message from an unknown number.
Unknown Number: I can’t stop thinking about you. About your hands on me. What would you do if you had me all to yourself?
I pause.
Huh.
My gaze flicks over the message again, slow and assessing, but my brain is already running through possibilities.
A mistake? A wrong number?
A trap?
I roll my shoulders as I step into my bedroom. The city lights flicker beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows over the room.
I don’t text back right away.
Instead, I set the phone down and let the message sit there.
A wrong number. A mistake. Nothing worth my time.
And yet…
I roll my neck, exhaling slowly as I cross the room. The penthouse is silent, save for the distant hum of the city below. Dark, expansive, too big for one person.
Which is exactly how I like it.
I don’t need people filling my space.
I had that once. Family. Noise. Closeness. And I left it behind a long time ago.
I step into my walk-in closet, grabbing a pair of dark trousers and a shirt, pulling them on with methodical ease. The fabric is crisp, expensive, tailored perfectly to my frame. A uniform of control.
When I emerge, Oleg is already waiting in the living area, his large frame half cast in shadow, arms folded across his chest.
And she’s with him.
Nina.
Tall. Blonde. Too beautiful for her own good.
She’s perched on the armrest of my couch, legs crossed, a drink in one hand, watching me with the kind of slow, predatory amusement that once held my attention.
Now, it only irritates me.
“Took your time, didn’t you?” she drawls, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.
I button my cuffs. “Why are you here?”
She sighs, setting the drink down. “Always so cold, Damien. I almost missed that.”
I say nothing.
Because I know exactly why she’s here.
Nina never comes without a reason. And she always wants something.
She pushes off the couch, sauntering toward me, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “I heard about the deal today. Seems like congratulations are in order.”
I give a noncommittal hum, reaching for my watch.
She steps closer, invading my space like she belongs there. Once upon a time, she did.
That time is long gone.
“You could at least pretend to be happy to see me,” she murmurs, fingers trailing over the buttons of my shirt.
I glance down at her hand. “No, I couldn’t.”
Her lips curve slightly, but there’s an edge of frustration in her gaze. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve heard.”
She exhales sharply, tilting her head. “Are you really sending me home already?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then, a smirk. “Must be someone else, then.”
I don’t take the bait.
She waits. When I don’t answer, she rolls her eyes and turns away, grabbing her clutch from the couch. “Fine,” she mutters. “Oleg can drive me.”
“Oleg will drive you,” I correct.
Oleg, who has been wordlessly observing this entire exchange, nods once. The conversation is over.
Nina knows it.
She doesn’t look back as she strides toward the elevator, her perfume lingering even after the doors slide shut behind her.
I exhale slowly, rolling my sleeves to my elbows, glancing at the phone still sitting untouched on the table.
The unknown message.
The unseen sender.
For some reason, I pick it up again, scrolling back to the words I still haven’t forgotten.
I can’t stop thinking about you. About your hands on me. What would you do if you had me all to yourself?
I smirk slightly.
Whoever sent this, they were expecting someone else.
Not me.
I lean against the window, staring down at the city stretching far below, the lights flickering like a breathing, living entity.
Then, finally, I type back.
Me: I could show you.
I hit send.