Page 4

Chapter four

~ DAMIEN~

I swing the door open, momentarily stunned when I see who’s on the other side. I thought it would be Ares or Rowan since they often show up unannounced, especially Ares. Instead, it’s the last person I expected to find standing on my doorstep at this time of night. I fight to keep the surprise off my face as I study Avery’s. For a second, she just stands there, eyes wide and unsure, like she might bolt any second.

Interesting.

“Well, well, well.” I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “I didn’t know you were into late-night visits,” I say, smirking.

Her face flushes instantly, those pretty green eyes widening like she’s been caught doing something scandalous.

I’m dying to know what made her come here. She could barely look at me during dinner, yet here she is, right at my door. If this was any other girl, the intension would be more than clear. But this isn’t any other girl. This is Avery.

She shifts awkwardly, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

“I-I… no, it’s not… I mean, it’s not like that,” she stammers, glancing away, cheeks flaming.

This is too easy.

I push off the doorframe, stepping closer—not too much, just enough to see her squirm.

“You sure? ‘Cause showing up at my door late at night usually means something.”

Her breath catches, and I see the panic flash across her face. She’s about to turn and run. I can see it in the way she shifts her weight, ready to flee.

“Forget it,” she says quickly, already turning around.

Shit. Don’t run yet, baby. I'm just getting started.

I reach out, gently grabbing her wrist before she can make a break for it.

“You didn’t come all the way here just to walk away, did you?” My tone softens, curiosity creeping in. Because, really, what did make her come here? She barely looks me in the eye.

Avery’s quiet for a moment, biting her lip like she’s debating whether to speak. Finally, she clears her throat, though she still can’t meet my gaze. “I need your help.”

This is new.

“My help?” I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “With what, exactly?”

She exhales sharply, frustration mixed with embarrassment.

“With… skating,” she mutters, barely audible.

I blink, caught off-guard for a second.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” I lie.

Speak up, baby.

“Skating,” she says a little louder this time.

“Skating?” I repeat, just to make sure I heard her right. She nods, staring down at her shoes, clearly regretting every second of this. I know she’s no beginner. Avery used to figure skate, and she was damn good at it, too. It’s her former partner who fucked up and almost killed her. The blade of the bastard’s skate sliced the femoral artery on Avery’s inner thigh.

I can still see it clearly—the panic that day. Rowan’s face was pale and frantic as he carried her to his car, too desperate to wait for an ambulance. Avery’s blood painted the ice red that day. She almost bled out. People had to donate blood on the spot because she’d lost so much by the time they got to the hospital.

It was a mess.

And now she’s here, asking me to help her get back on the ice? After all that?

I can’t help but feel a surge of respect for her. As shy as Avery is most days, she’s just as determined, and that’s something I’ve always admired. After going through something like that, most people would never even look at an ice rink again. Yet here she is, standing before me, braving it, her voice barely above a whisper but determined as hell.

Is Rowan making her do this? That doesn’t make sense. He’d never let her back on the ice. He was the one who swore she’d never skate again. So, what the hell is going on?

“You know what, forget it. It was a stupid idea—” Before I can respond, she starts backing away.

“Whoa, hey,” I cut in, stepping forward and blocking her retreat. “I didn’t say no.” Now, I’m more than curious. Why the hell didn’t she ask Rowan? And more importantly, why come to me?

Her eyes flick up to mine, and for the first time, I see that little flicker of determination. It’s faint, buried beneath the nerves, but it’s there. She wants this—whatever it is.

“Let me get this straight,” I say, leaning in a little, lowering my voice. “You want me to teach you how to skate again?”

Avery swallows hard, then nods, almost defiantly. “Yes.”

Well, damn. That took guts. I give her a slow, teasing grin.

“Look, I know you have a thousand more pleasant things to do than baby me on the rink,” she rambles apologetically. Oh, I don’t need a rink to baby you. “You don’t have to say yes. I can ask someone else,” she adds, but there’s hope in her eyes. Hope that she won’t have to ask anyone else. And that’s enough for my heartrate to pick up the pace.

Tell her goodnight and close the door, Damien.

I try to listen to the voice telling me to stay away from Rowan’s sister, but the only thing I keep hearing is her voice, saying, “ I need your help.”

She wants me to help her with something this personal.

There’s no way I’m letting this opportunity slip by.

“And what will I get in return?” I arch a brow, playing with her.

Avery opens her sweet mouth, but no sound comes out.

“Aren’t you, like, a billionaire?” she finally asks, dumbfounded. I almost snort.

“Money isn’t the only currency in the world.” I tilt my head to the side.

“What do you want then?” she asks cautiously.

“I don’t know yet,” I lie again. I know exactly what I want. I’m staring right at it. “Let’s just say you owe me,” I suggest.

She takes a deep breath but doesn’t run this time. She squares her shoulders, trying to play it cool.

“Deal.” She nods, and I grin like the Cheshire cat.

Well, this just got a lot more interesting.

The next day, I pull out of my driveway and head up to Rowan’s, the engine rumbling under me as I park. I grab my phone and text Avery to let her know I’m outside, and she’s quick to reply, telling me to stay put. A minute later, she’s slipping out of the front door like she’s sneaking out, glancing over her shoulder as she hurries to the car.

What the hell?

I roll down the window as she approaches, one eyebrow raised. “Is someone chasing you, Red?”

She freezes for a second, clearly caught off-guard by my question, then quickly shakes her head, not adding anything.

She climbs into the passenger seat, and I notice the way she’s still fidgeting. And it just makes me even more suspicious. Something’s definitely up. I start the car and pull out of the driveway.

“You wanna tell me why you looked like you were being hunted out there? Does Rowan know where you’re going?” And with whom you’re going.

Avery shoots me a quick, nervous glance. “Yes, he knows that I’m going out,” she assures me.

Uh-huh. That’s not what I asked. But I won’t push. I don’t want to scare her off before the fun’s even begun.

We pull up to the rink, and I glance over at Avery. She’s been quiet for most of the ride, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, probably second-guessing this whole idea. But now, as we sit in front of the massive building, her eyes widen in that nervous, doe-eyed way she gets.

Perfect.

I kill the engine and get out of the car, rounding to her side before she can hesitate.

“C’mon, Red,” I say, opening her door. “We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

She looks at me hesitantly. “The guys aren’t practicing today, are they?”

“They’re not,” I reply, watching her reaction. “No one is.” The truth is, I made a call beforehand. I wanted to make sure no one would interrupt us for at least an hour. Just me, her, and the ice. “It’s all ours.”

She swallows hard and hops out of the car. No distractions. Nowhere to hide. And I can see the nerves creeping in already.

I lead her inside, the cold air hitting us as we step through the door. The rink is lit, the ice pristine and untouched. It’s quiet, except for the low hum of the ice machine somewhere in the back. Avery pauses, taking in the space like she’s seeing it for the first time, and I don’t rush her. I like watching her get lost in her thoughts. I can tell she’s feeling something—memories, maybe, or that rush of adrenaline that comes with being near the ice. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and her eyes scan the whole area like she’s reconsidering the whole thing.

I’ve already made sure everything’s ready, including her skates.

I nudge her forward. “Locker rooms are this way.”

She follows me, and her presence behind me is almost overwhelming, especially in the narrow hallway leading to the locker rooms. She’s alone in here with me, scared and hesitant. A castaway on stranger tides, following the shark anyway.

Her breathing is shallow, and I know she’s trying to keep it together, but I can sense how wound up she is.

We step into the empty locker room, the lights flickering to life overhead. Leather couches are along the wall, and I motion for her to sit.

“Get comfortable,” I say, placing the skates I got for her at her feet. I’d guessed her size. I got it right.

“Comfortable. Right,” Avery says awkwardly, staring at the skates like they’re foreign objects. “You got these for me?”

“I did.” I nod, not taking my eyes off her. The tension is thick in the air now, and the small space is making it impossible to ignore.

She hesitates before slowly sitting down and taking her shoes off. I can read her whole face like a book. She’s terrified and extremely uncomfortable. She looks like she’s an inch away from tapping out, yet she still slips her feet inside the skates.

I watch as she fumbles with the laces, her fingers trembling slightly. Before she can even attempt it, I reach over, my hands covering hers.

“Here,” I murmur, pulling her laces from her grip. “Let me.”

She freezes, staring down at my hands on hers, her breath hitching as I lean in. “I can do it myself,” she protests.

Her cheeks flush a deep crimson as I kneel in front of her, somehow still about an inch taller.

“You trust me to teach you how to skate but not to get your skates on right?” I tease, glancing at her.

She smiles, and I swear I can almost hear her heartbeat racing. She bites her lip, and I feel a rush of something dark and possessive flood through me.

Slowly, I begin to lace up her skate, tightening it carefully. She’s trying not to look at me, but every now and then, I catch her glancing down, watching the way my hands work. I don’t even need to look at the laces to tie them. I’ve done this a million times. But I like her thinking I can’t see the way she’s stealing glances at me, so I keep my head down.

I finish tying the first skate and slide her other foot onto my knee, repeating the process, taking my time, enjoying my hands on her.

“You’re tense, Red. You gotta relax.”

“Easier said than done,” she huffs a small laugh, clearly struggling to do anything, never mind relax.

“Just focus on me,” I murmur, my voice lowering as I finish with the last knot. I rise to my feet but keep my body bent so my face is inches from hers.

Her eyes snap up to mine, wide and full of something I can’t quite name.

“You want this. You asked for this,” I remind her, my voice almost a whisper. “You’re excited about this, not nervous. You can’t wait to get back on the ice. You’re not scared,” I recite.

Her brows twitch toward each other, clearly not understanding what I want from her.

“Say it,” I urge her, and she takes a deep breath.

“I’m not scared,” she whispers.

“I can’t hear you,” I whisper back.

“I’m not scared,” she says a little louder. “I want to do this.”

Good girl, I almost say out loud.

“Good,” I say instead. I stand up and grab my own skates from the couch, quickly tying them up before holding out my hand to her. “You ready?”

Avery hesitates, staring at my hand. After a moment, she takes it. Slipping her soft hand in mine, I feel a buzz of electricity I haven’t felt in a long time. I quickly pull her to her feet. She stumbles a little, unsteady, and I catch her, my hands on her waist. Fuck, she feels so good.

“Easy,” I murmur. “We’re not even on the ice yet.”

Her eyes flicker up to mine, wide and clear. Her lips are slightly parted, and her tongue darts out to lick them.

Jesus Christ. I let her go before I do anything stupid.

“Follow me,” I say as I lead her out of the locker rooms. There’s a charged silence between us as we walk toward the entrance to the rink.

But before we can even get on the ice, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out, glancing at the screen. Rowan’s name flashes on the text, and I instinctively swipe it open.

ROWAN: In a meeting. Avery’s getting coffee with Sarah. Can you pick her up at 2? I’ll send you the address.

What? My eyes flicker back to Avery. Her eyes are fixed on the rink in front of her like she’s already mentally preparing herself to step onto the ice.

Coffee date, huh? And then it hits me.

Rowan has no idea his little sister showed up at my door last night. He has no idea she’s standing right in front of me—just the two of us. And I find that deeply thrilling.

ME: Sure thing. Send me the address.

I send the message and shove the phone back into my pocket, letting the corners of my mouth tug upward slightly. This girl has no idea what I’m going to do to her.

“Well,” I say, cracking my neck. “Ready to show me what you’ve got,”