Chapter 32
D amien left about twenty minutes ago, but my body still hums with the aftershocks of our night and morning together.
God, that man loves to eat my pussy.
He made me come twice more on his tongue before giving me a proper fucking—my hands gripping the headboard, his fist tangled in my hair, the other branding my hip as he drove into me from behind.
He pushed my torso down, lifted my hips higher, and thrust deep until I shattered around him, screaming his name into the dark satin sheets.
Even after, he lingered. Tempted.
I tried to keep him in bed, my fingers teasing across his chest, my lips brushing his jaw, coaxing him into another round.
But he only smirked against my mouth, shaking his head as he whispered, “Nothing but fucking trouble.”
And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he swirled his tongue around my nipple, pressed one last open-mouthed kiss against my pussy, and groaned as he tore himself away.
“Fuck me, Elena,” he muttered on his way out, half to me, half to himself. “This is going to be the longest fucking day of my life.”
He mumbled as he disappeared down the hallway.
I’ve been lying in his bed ever since, wrapped in the warmth of his scent, the sheets still tangled around my body as I lazily scroll through my phone.
I’m not really seeing anything, my mind going back to last night—to every touch and kiss. The warmth of his arms around me and how it feels to completely disappear in his embrace.
A message pops up.
DAMIEN: Have dinner with me tonight?
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across my lips because as soon as I see his name on my screen—see his small question—it drops like lead in my stomach. And I finally admit what I’ve been refusing to acknowledge.
I’ve fallen in love with Damien.
Last night, we threw out the rules that separated us from what we want. Every barrier was broken through, and I gave myself to him in a way I have never given myself to anyone.
Not just physically.
But emotionally.
But as my thumbs hover over the screen, ready to type back my answer, that heavy lead settles into dread.
There is one more barrier I haven’t removed yet. And I need to before things turn terrible.
I need to tell Damien about Adrian.
My pulse hikes, my heart thumping against my chest.
I didn’t keep it from him to be hurtful. At first, it was because I needed to follow Ledger protocols. I didn’t know Damien like I do now.
But when Lucian didn’t get back to me, I went to the one person I can count on—myself.
I should have trusted Damien with it, but everything I’ve experienced my whole life has taught me otherwise. To not trust. To handle things on my own.
And that’s exactly what I did.
My fingers tighten around my phone, determination settling in my chest.
Tonight.
I’ll tell him everything tonight.
ELENA: It’s a date.
Damien’s going to react.
And I have no idea how.
A slow breath pushes past my lips, but before I can let myself dwell, another message comes through.
My phone vibrates in my palm, the notification lighting up the screen.
UNKNOWN: See you in 15 minutes.
My stomach plummets.
My pulse skyrockets, my skin turning ice cold as realization slams into me.
Shit.
Today.
Adrian.
I lost track of everything still hanging over my head—so caught up in Damien, in his hands, his mouth, his body, his words, his everything—that I forgot.
I forgot about the meeting written on the back of the photos Adrian left for me.
And now, it’s too late to prepare.
He’ll dangle those photos over my head, threaten to release them, drag my name through the mud, smear me in front of the Calloways, damage Damien’s merger, and set off a scandal that will ruin us both.
Well, I won’t let that happen.
Throwing off the sheets, I storm back to my room, my movements swift and purposeful. I grab the first clothes I see—dark jeans, dark shirt.
I don’t have time for a shower, so I yank a baseball cap over my hair and throw the dresser drawer open. The yellow folder glares at me as I snatch it up and head for the elevator.
The coffee shop is only a few blocks away from Damien’s penthouse, but every step feels heavier than the last, thick with tension.
I force my breathing to stay even, my shoulders squared, my chin up as I push through the door and scan the room.
He’s already here in the back corner.
Casual. Comfortable. Smirking like he owns the world. Like he’s already won.
The sight of him makes my stomach churn, but I push it down. I refuse to let him see even a flicker of hesitation.
I stride to his table and drop the folder between us with a controlled, deliberate movement.
“I’m not doing this,” I say, my voice cool and measured.
Adrian doesn’t even flinch. His smirk deepens as he flips the folder open, letting his fingers skim the grainy black-and-white security stills.
The photos make my skin crawl.
From the outside, they could look intimate. But I know the truth.
And so does he.
“You sure about that, sweetheart?” His voice is thick with amusement as he taps the folder—a threat, a promise.
I clench my fists, forcing my face to remain neutral.
“All those pictures prove,” I say, my tone like ice, “is that you're a scared little piece of shit who let your girlfriend be gang-raped.”
He exhales, slow and easy, like he’s shaking off a minor inconvenience.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says with a small shrug. “People believe what they want to believe. And with a little push…” He taps the folder again, his gaze gleaming with sick satisfaction. “This will be a scandal. Ruin your precious little fiancé. Ruin you.”
My heart pounds, but I won’t let him see an ounce of my fear.
“You ready to give him up, Elena?”
I lean in, my voice dropping to a quiet, razor-sharp edge.
“I’d rather burn my own life to the ground before I let you hold a match to it.”
His eyes darken, but the smirk stays.
“I won’t betray Damien.”
The words leave my lips without hesitation because they’re true.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and walk away.
“You think he’ll still want you once he finds out what you’ve done?” Adrian calls after me, several patrons turning to watch as I leave.
I should have fucking told Damien the moment Adrian confronted me at the tennis courts. Should have trusted him. But I was scared.
I retreated—like I always do. Like I’ve done my whole life.
Because I’ve always been alone.
But I don’t feel alone anymore.
Damien is different.
He wouldn’t judge me for my past. Wouldn’t look at me and see something broken, something dirty. He cares about me.
And I know, without a doubt, that he’s falling for me—just like I’ve already fallen for him.
And I won’t let Adrian destroy that.
My pulse pounds with every step, my lungs suddenly too tight, the air too thin. I need to get out of here. Get away. Get to Damien.
There’s still time to fix this.
There’s still time.
I pull up the contact for the Blackstone car service and order a ride to Damien’s office.
They must have my name on caller ID because they call me by name as they confirm the ride. “Of course, Ms. Moreau. We’ll have your driver waiting for you.”
I turn the corner to save myself a block, my steps hard against the pavement.
I should call Damien. Let him know I’m coming.
But chills run down my spine when I hear another pair of footsteps behind me.
Steady. Measured.
Following me. And getting closer. My grip tightens on my phone.
The moment I hear the footsteps quicken behind me, I know I don’t have time to think.
I just bolt.
My heart slams against my ribs, my pulse roaring in my ears as my feet pound against the pavement. I don’t waste time looking over my shoulder—I already know it’s him. Adrian’s heavy footfalls hammer behind me, fast and determined.
The late-morning air rips past me, my breath coming sharp and ragged as I push harder. A block and a half. That’s all I need. Just one more turn, and I’ll be in sight of the Blackstone.
But then my hat flies off, my long hair spilling free, whipping behind me like a fucking flag. And that’s all it takes.
A sharp yank at my scalp sends me reeling backward, my neck snapping with the force.
A gasp catches in my lungs, but it’s cut off as Adrian shoves me against the brick wall by my throat.
The impact rattles through my body, my back scraping against the rough surface. One of his hands clamps over my mouth. The other grips my wrist, pinning it hard against the wall.
He flattens his frame against me, his knee between my legs, trapping me between him and the wall.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Elena,” Adrian hisses, his breath hot and sour against my ear. I pull the short hair near the nape of his neck, and he lets go of my mouth to get control of my other hand.
I glare at him, my pulse hammering, but I refuse to let him see fear.
“Let. Me. Go.”
He chuckles darkly, panting heavily as he slams my other wrist against the wall. “I tried to give you an easy way out. Tried to let you be smart about this, but no—you want to be difficult.”
I twist against his hold, my body coiled with tension, but he doesn’t let go.
“You’re going to work with me on this,” he growls, his fingers tightening like a vise around my wrist. “Just like we used to.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, struggling against his grip.
His lips curl. “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”
He slams into me harder, his knee digging deeper between my legs, pinning me against the rough brick wall.
“My business partners need this deal to fall through,” he snaps, his voice low and venomous. “And you’re going to help me make that happen. Or I swear to God, I’ll make sure you go down with me.”
I glare at him, my breathing hard, my skin burning where he grips me.
He leans in, his voice like gravel. “I don’t care what you say.”
Fury ignites in my veins, a slow burn turning into an inferno. My strength is wearing down, but I don’t let up.
I thrash and push. I try to scratch and claw, but I can’t.
His jaw clenches, and he growls against my neck. Revulsion rolls down my body in chills as I realize he has an erection and he’s grinding against me as I struggle.
“Get the fuck off me!” I buck and elbow, finding renewed motivation to get away from him.
"God, you still feel so fucking good," he grunts. "I hope you enjoyed fucking him because it ends today, sweetheart."
The words slice through me, but I don’t let him see it.
I get as much momentum as I can and ram my skull into his face. The crunch of his nose breaking is nearly as satisfying as the howl he yells.
He releases one of my wrists on instinct to cover his nose.
I use my newly freed hand and rake my nails down his cheek with every ounce of strength I have.
He roars, jerking back, but his grip on my wrist only tightens, bruising into my skin.
“Bitch,” he spits, fury twisting his features as he backhands me with all the strength he can muster at this close proximity.
White-hot pain explodes across my cheek, the crack of it ringing in my ears.
For a moment, everything tilts. My vision sparks.
The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but I don’t have time to dwell on it.
I swing my knee up—hard—and it lands exactly where I want it.
Adrian chokes on a strangled sound, doubling over as agony takes over.
I shove past him and run.
Every nerve in my body screams, my cheek throbbing, my lungs burning, but I don’t stop. I sprint toward the Blackstone, the towering glass structure a beacon of safety in the distance.
The town car is already waiting at the curb, the same driver from the other day standing beside it. I slow to a brisk walk.
I know I’m not fooling anyone.
He smiles, polite and professional, but the moment he takes me in, his expression shifts—concern bleeding into his features.
“Everything okay, Ms. Moreau?” His voice is cautious, his gaze flicking past me.
I don’t look back to confirm Adrian is there. But at least I know he’s not stupid enough to push anything with a witness present.
“Yes. Fine, thank you,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Wolfe Industries, please.”
He nods and opens the door for me.
The moment I slide into the back seat, I exhale a shuddering breath, my body sagging against the cool leather.
Reaching for a tissue from the console, I blot at my lip, pulling it away to see a small trace of blood.
Shit.
I dig into my back pocket for my phone, needing to use the camera to check the damage—but it’s gone.
A new kind of dread unfurls in my stomach, and my hands start shaking as the adrenaline begins to crash.
It must have fallen out when I ran from Adrian.
I have no way to call Damien. No way to call Lucian.
Swallowing hard, I force myself to breathe. I just need to get to Wolfe Industries. Once I’m there—once I’m with Damien—I’ll be fine.
But as I glance out the window, my blood runs cold.
Adrian is still there, standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching me.
I don’t look away. I won’t show him that he’s won anything in this.
Instead, I lift my chin, every line of my body screaming defiance as the car pulls away, putting distance between us.
But I know this isn’t over.
I just hope I can get to Damien before it’s too late.