Page 18 of Salem’s Fall (Dark Seasons Thriller #3)

He steers me inside, and I’m immediately charmed by the place.

The tiny shop is crammed with magical goodies, its shelves lined with beautiful, handmade trinkets.

Things like crystals, spell books, and lucky talismans.

It smells like freshly made chocolate and cinnamon, both of which they sell inside, along with homemade teas and candies.

Damien leads me over to the jewelry counter, where an array of colorful baubles glimmer beneath the glass.

Small tags label each gemstone’s purpose.

Rose quartz for love. Amethyst for clarity.

Garnet for strength. He barely glances at them, gesturing instead to a spectacular ring, sitting on a velvet cushion.

It’s simple yet elegant, with a sparkling diamond band and a large dark stone set in the center that seems to glow in the dim light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, his gaze fixed on me, studying my reaction.

“It’s gorgeous.”

Without waiting for help, he reaches behind the counter and grabs the ring. He slides it onto my finger, and I feel a shock at the contact, a buzzing sort of energy flowing through me.

I clear my throat, unable to look away from the mesmerizing ring. “What’s the stone called?”

“Black tourmaline. For protection,” he says. “It’s said to absorb negative energy, warding off harmful forces… or people.” A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “It also grants power to those who carry it. A solid choice.”

I flip the price tag and gasp out loud.

“Ten thousand dollars! For a gift shop souvenir? Yeah, that’s definitely not in the budget.” I shake my head, flabbergasted, and hand the ring back to him, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Besides, like I said, I’m here for work, not shopping.”

Damien keeps smirking, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Of course.”

As he puts the ring back behind the glass case, I have a hard time dragging my eyes away from the beautiful stone. It’s so breathtaking. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to afford things like that…

“Dinner?” he asks. “I know a great place in town.”

I hesitate.

“As in... a working dinner?”

“Obviously,” he says, though the teasing smile on his lips suggests otherwise. “If I were asking you on a date, you’d know it.”

“Okay. Good,” I say, almost a little disappointed. If I’m being honest, the idea of a date with Damien Blackhollow isn’t the most offensive thing I’ve ever heard of. Not that I’d tell him that.

We swing by the Cottage first so I can check on Lucky and fire off a quick email update to Quinn. Damien’s driver, Bennett, waits in the car while Damien follows me inside to the lobby. I assume he’s just grabbing coffee or using the restroom as I rush to my room—but he follows me .

“Here, allow me,” he says, taking the room key from me and unlocking my door with ease.

“Uh, what are you doing?” I scrunch my eyebrows. “I told you I need a few minutes.”

He leans against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, a playful grin on his lips. “I’m here to meet the infamous Lucky, of course.”

“Lucky—my cat? Why on earth do you want to meet him?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Damien’s tone is casual, but there’s that glint in his eye, like he knows exactly how to get under my skin and is enjoying every second of it. “I’m curious about the male who gets so much of your precious time.”

I pause, confused by this turn of events. Damien Blackhollow, billionaire venture capitalist and walking enigma, wants to meet my cat ?

“Uh, well, I didn’t know you were that into cats,” I mumble, hedging. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here. This type of situation isn’t exactly in the attorney-client relationships handbook.

“I’m into meeting things you care about,” he says, his voice softening a touch. “Besides, from what I hear, this cat is very special.”

That pulls a laugh out of me.

“You have no idea,” I say, chuckling as I step into the room, tossing my bag onto the small desk near the window. “Fine, you can come in. But I’m going to warn you, Lucky doesn’t like anyone, especially strangers. And he’s really not into men.”

Damien takes that as a challenge, grinning as he follows behind me. “Protective, I get it,” he says. “I imagine that’s how most men are with you.”

My stomach does a little flip, and I mentally kick myself for how easily this man can get under my skin.

I glance toward the bed, where Lucky is curled up, completely unfazed by the world around him.

His sleek black body is stretched across my pillow like it’s his world and the rest of us just live in it.

Damien’s grin widens as he approaches my bed, leaning down to get a closer look at Lucky.

“Hey, there,” he says, his voice low and smooth, as if he’s speaking to a person.

Lucky, to my complete shock, doesn’t hiss or nip or show any sort of agitation. Instead of his usual death glare reserved for strangers, he actually lifts his head, yawning lazily before making his way over to Damien like they’re long-lost friends.

I stand there, slack-jawed, watching as my fiercely territorial cat rubs his head against Damien’s hand.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

Damien glances back at me, that smug expression firmly in place. “What was that you were saying about him not liking men?”

“I—I don’t know.” I cross my arms, trying to recover some semblance of dignity. “He hates everyone but me.”

“Hm, guess I’m the exception,” Damien says with a wink as he scratches behind Lucky’s ears. Lucky—the traitor—is purring ecstatically, like he’s known Damien his whole life.

I stare in disbelief, watching the bizarre lovefest between my cat and Damien.

“I don’t get it. He’s never like this,” I say. “Ever.”

“Maybe he senses something in me he likes.”

I laugh. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Something good. Something... trustworthy.” Damien’s gaze holds mine, and for a moment, the air in the room feels thicker, heavier.

My pulse quickens, but I shake it off, refusing to let whatever is building between us mess with my head.

He’s my client— my client accused of murder —I have to remember that.

“Or maybe he’s just softening in his old age,” I say lightly. “ Or you’re bribing him somehow. Do you have catnip in your pockets?”

Damien chuckles. “I don’t need to bribe cats, James. They just know like most women do—it’s futile to resist me.” He winks, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his voice. I don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.

I look away, my eyes falling to the floor. “Lucky’s just acting weird today. Don’t let it go to your head.”

My phone buzzes in my hand. A new email alert. I open my inbox and the subject line, in all caps, jumps out at me.

“STAY AWAY OR YOU’RE NEXT.”

I gasp out loud, my heart pounding in my chest. Instantly, I feel Damien beside me, the air suddenly charged with tension.

“James? What is it?” he asks, his tone sharp. As he reads the email over my shoulder, his jaw tightens. “That’s it. I’m taking you back to Boston.”

But I don’t care what he says, or that he’s the one footing the bill. Not even the fear in his eyes gets to me. Real fear—for me. None of it matters. I’m just starting to crack the surface here in Salem’s Fall.

No way I’m going back now.