Page 28 of Damon

And there it is.

The thing I've been trying not to think about since the moment I saw her in that club. The possibility that this isn't just physical attraction or proximity or adrenaline. The possibility that Viviana Bonacci might actually be worth upending my entire life for.

Which is exactly why I need to get the hell out of this house and away from her before I do something we'll both regret.

"I have to go," I say, heading for the door.

"Damon."

I stop but don't turn around.

"Be careful."

"Always am."

"I mean it. Come back."

The way she says it, like it matters to her whether I make it back alive, like she'd actually miss me if something happened – it hits me harder than it should.

"I'll be back."

"Promise?"

"I already told you, I don't make promises."

"Make one anyway. This one time."

I turn to look at her one last time before I leave. She's standing by my desk, hands clasped in front of her, looking young and innocent and worried about a man who's supposed to be her enemy.

"I'll be back," I say again.

It's not a promise, exactly. But it's as close as I can get.

Because the truth is, I want to come back. I want to come back to her, to this house, to whatever the hell this thing is that's been building between us.

Which means I’m completely fucked.

Chapter 9: Viviana

He's been gone for two hours.

I know this because I've been watching the clock on the kitchen microwave like it holds the secrets of the universe. Two hours and seventeen minutes, to be exact. The meeting was supposed to take an hour, maybe ninety minutes at the most.

I should be thinking about Papa. About what he'll say when he sees Damon's video, about whether he'll believe I'm really safe, about whether he'll try to negotiate for my release or accept that I need to stay hidden until this threat is eliminated.

Instead, I can't stop thinking about the way Damon looked at me before he left. Like he was memorizing my face. Like he thought he might not see me again.

I've paced every room in this house at least once, tried to read three different books without retaining a single word, and started watching a movie before turning it off after ten minutes because I couldn't concentrate.

The silence is driving me crazy.

At home, there was always noise. Papa conducting business in his office, my brothers arguing, Mama playing piano in the sitting room. The house was full of life, full of people, full of the comfortable chaos of a large family.

Here, there's nothing but the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of the house settling.

And my own thoughts, which are becoming increasingly dangerous.

Because somewhere between this morning's coffee and tonight's goodbye, I stopped thinking of Damon as my captor and started thinking of him as... what? My protector? My ally?