Chapter 8
Damien
I arrived early at the event office, the silence of the empty room heavy. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, my gaze fixed on the door. I could feel the energy buzzing just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.
Calm. Focused. Dangerous.
The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and paper. The charity game loomed ahead, but today? Today was about Holly. I’d orchestrated this entire scenario, and I intended to make my presence known.
When the door swung open, she stepped inside. The air shifted as her eyes landed on me, wide and startled. For a split second, time slowed down.
She froze.
I watched her take a shaky breath, her expression flickering between anger and fear—an intoxicating mix that sent adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Holly stood there in disbelief, caught off guard by my unexpected presence. I let a smirk tug at my lips, enjoying how quickly she processed what it meant for us both. She wanted to ignore me; she thought she could walk away unscathed. But here I was, right where I needed to be.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped, her voice steady despite the way her body betrayed her—tension radiated from her as if she were ready to bolt.
“Planning,” I replied coolly, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer to her. I slid into a chair, trying to give her a false sense of safety. “You know how it is.”
Her jaw tightened; it was adorable how hard she tried to maintain control in front of me.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she shot back, taking an instinctive step back as if my presence alone could burn her.
“Oh? Did your dad tell you that?” My words dripped with sarcasm. “Seems like he’s fine with me being involved.”
Her eyes narrowed at that—a fierce fire igniting behind them that made me want to push her even further.
“I don’t care what he wants,” Holly hissed. “You need to leave.”
I chuckled softly; her defiance only fueled my amusement. She had no idea how little control she had left in this game we played.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
I leaned back in my chair, the weight of her gaze heavy and electric. A smirk crept across my face as I studied her. I’d seen that look before—the way her eyes flared with a mix of anger and something deeper, something more vulnerable.
Back when she loved me. Back when she hated how much she loved me.
The silence hung thick between us, the anticipation palpable. No one else was in the office yet; it was just the two of us, suspended in a moment that felt like it had been ripped straight from our past.
“Missed me?” I asked, letting the playful challenge hang in the air.
Holly stiffened, her posture going rigid as if bracing herself against a storm. She refused to answer, but I could see the subtle tremor in her fingers as she set down her notebook on the table. Good. She remembered.
I let out a soft chuckle, relishing the tension coiling between us. It felt familiar and intoxicating, a dangerous dance we both knew too well.
“Come on, little lamb.” I leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on my knees as I watched her face flush with frustration. “You can’t honestly say you’re not at least a little glad to see me.”
She opened her mouth to respond but then hesitated, biting down on her lip as if searching for the right words—an instinctive reflex from our past conversations where emotions tangled like barbed wire.
“Look at you,” I continued, reveling in how easily I could provoke her. “You think you can act like you’re unaffected? Like all those years didn’t mean anything? You know better.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but beneath that fire lay something softer—a flicker of doubt.
“Just admit it,” I pressed on softly, enjoying this moment too much to let it go just yet. “You missed me.”
I leaned back, enjoying the tension radiating from her. She tried to mask her emotions, but I saw through her facade. The way her fingers drummed against the table betrayed her.
“Logan’s not here. Shame. Guess you’ll have to settle for me,” I said, letting a playful smirk creep across my face.
Her jaw tightened at the mention of his name, and I reveled in that slight crack in her armor.
She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, adopting a tone that dripped with professionalism. “This isn’t about you, Damien.”
“Of course not.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table as I kept my gaze locked on hers. “But it could be. You always liked when I took charge.”
I let that hang there for a moment, watching as she shifted in her seat, pretending to check the notes she’d scribbled earlier. She was trying so hard to play it cool—polite and detached—but I could sense the storm brewing just beneath the surface.
“Should I handle the roster?” I offered casually, watching as her eyes flared with indignation.
“I can manage just fine without your help,” she shot back, her voice steady but lacking conviction. It was a brave front, but we both knew better.
“Oh, come on.” My tone turned teasing as I leaned back again, arms crossed behind my head like this was all some kind of game. “You and I both know how this works. You get overwhelmed with details and then panic when things don’t go according to plan.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, frustration flaring again like a beacon shining through the darkness we’d built between us.
“I’m not panicking,” she insisted sharply.
I couldn’t help but laugh softly at that—a low rumble that broke through the thick air surrounding us. “Not yet,” I teased lightly.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought to keep composure under my relentless jabs. But every little quirk of her expression told me exactly how close to breaking she really was. And damn if that didn’t thrill me.
“Let’s just get this done,” Holly said finally, an edge creeping into her voice as she forced herself to look away from me.
I enjoyed this too much—pushing against her walls, reminding her of who I was and what we had shared. This was only the beginning; she could try to deny it all she wanted, but deep down? She still felt it too.
“You can hate me all you want, little lamb,” I murmured, my voice dropping low enough for only her to hear. “But you’ve never been good at lying to yourself.”
Her jaw tightened further, that familiar defiance rising like a shield. I relished it; it was a dance we knew too well. She’d spent years building walls around her heart, but every crack told me she felt it—whatever this was between us.
I watched as her gaze fell to my hands—my hands, the same ones that had hurt Logan. The same hands that had once cradled her face. She couldn’t look at them without remembering what I was capable of, what I had done just hours ago.
“Damien,” she warned, her voice a soft but firm whisper.
“Not here to threaten you,” I replied smoothly, feigning innocence even as I let my smirk widen. “Just here to remind you of reality.”
The fire simmered beneath her cool exterior. I caught the way her breath hitched slightly when I leaned even closer, drawing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with something earthy—a reminder of summer days spent together long ago.
She opened her mouth as if to protest but hesitated. Her resolve faltered for just a moment before she shook her head defiantly.
“I’m not scared of you.”
Oh, but she was. I could see it in the way her body tensed up around me like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment.
“You should be,” I countered softly, watching as the corners of her mouth twitched downward.
The truth simmered between us; the magnetic pull tugged at something deep within me—a primal instinct that craved more than just this tense standoff. The fight within her lit a fire that reminded me of our past: reckless nights filled with laughter and whispered secrets.
The part of Holly that liked when things got out of control hadn’t vanished entirely; it was still there, buried beneath layers of self-protection and fear. And maybe—just maybe—I would coax it back out into the open again.
“This is work. You’ll behave, or we’re done.” Holly snapped back, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
I chuckled, a low sound that filled the small space between us. Her confidence was adorable, and I leaned into it, reveling in how she tried to assert control.
“That’s not how this works,” I replied, letting the smirk linger on my lips. “You don’t get to be done with me.”
I stood then, rising from my chair and towering over her. The way her posture shifted told me everything I needed to know; she felt it too—the pull of our history wrapping around us like a vine, suffocating yet familiar.
I stepped closer, invading her space deliberately. I could see the flicker of defiance in her eyes battling against something else—something deeper that had always drawn us together.
“You’re stuck with me, Holly.” My voice dropped lower as I leaned in just enough for her to feel the weight of my presence pressing against her resolve. “You know why? Because your daddy made a deal with the devil. And now you’re paying the price.”
The spark in her eyes dulled momentarily as my words sank in. For all her strength, she knew exactly what kind of game we were playing—how easily things could spiral out of control. She was tangled up in this mess just as much as I was.
“I won’t let you ruin this for me,” she shot back, but there was an edge of uncertainty threading through her tone.
“Ruin what?” I asked softly, a mocking lilt creeping into my voice. “This charity game? Your little plans? You should know by now that chaos is my specialty.”
Her breath caught slightly; she was torn between anger and something more vulnerable—the fear that perhaps I wouldn’t let go again. And why would I? The thrill of seeing her so riled up made it hard to think straight.
I relished every second of this standoff. It was intoxicating—the tension building like a storm on the horizon—and deep down; I knew it wasn’t just about power anymore; it was about getting back what had been lost between us all those years ago.
Holly’s breath caught, and for a brief moment, I saw the crack in her armor. It was enough to send a thrill coursing through me. But she quickly masked it, her gaze turning steely as she squared her shoulders, trying to regain control.
“Then let’s get through this and never speak again,” she declared, her voice firm despite the tremor that lingered beneath the surface.
I couldn’t help but grin. I knew better. Holly could pretend all she wanted, but we both understood that this wasn’t just about the charity game. It never had been. There was a fire between us that couldn’t be snuffed out so easily.
“Sure, little lamb,” I replied smoothly, leaning in closer until our faces were mere inches apart. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Her eyes flared with defiance, but there was something deeper lurking beneath—an undeniable pull that seemed to tug at both of us. She wanted to fight it; I could see that in the way her lips pressed into a thin line. But part of her still craved the chaos we’d shared.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, though the way her breath quickened told me my words had hit their mark.
“Why not? It suits you,” I teased back, watching as her cheeks flushed with anger—or was it something else? Either way, it was delightful to provoke her like this.
“I’m not some naive girl who needs protecting,” she shot back fiercely.
“Never said you were.” My voice dropped low again as I held her gaze steady. “But we both know you can’t resist a good story.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features before she masked it with stubborn resolve again. The tension between us crackled like electricity; every second felt charged with unsaid words and unfulfilled desires.
She took a deep breath, preparing for what felt like another battle of wills. She might think she could shut me out entirely—maybe even convince herself she didn’t want anything to do with me anymore—but deep down? We both knew the truth.
As we stood there locked in this silent war of defiance and vulnerability, an undeniable connection hummed just beneath our skin. And even if she tried to walk away from it all once more, I would make sure she'd remember why she couldn’t.
I leaned back in my chair, watching Holly as she walked out of the meeting room after we finished. The tension in my chest tightened like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs. Each step she took felt like a deliberate challenge, a reminder that she was still fighting me, still trying to maintain some semblance of control.
Part of me wanted to leap up, grab her wrist, and pull her into the corner where I could remind her—physically—who she belonged to. The way she held herself, that stubborn set of her jaw, made my blood simmer. She could act all tough, play the part of someone unbothered by me, but deep down? I knew better. She felt it too; the pull between us was as undeniable as gravity.
But I stayed still, rooted to my chair. This was a longer game than before. I wasn’t the boy she had walked away from three years ago. That kid had been na?ve and wounded—lost in his own chaos.
Now?
I was worse. More volatile and unpredictable than ever.
I watched as Holly turned down the hallway, shoulders squared and chin lifted defiantly, but even I could see how her steps quickened when she thought no one was looking. She didn’t realize yet that every confrontation would draw us closer to an inevitable clash. The game had changed; now it was about control.
A smirk tugged at my lips as I imagined what would happen when she fully grasped how much I’d evolved since those days when we were together. It wouldn’t be pretty for her—this relentless desire would turn into something darker.
I drummed my fingers against the table, savoring the anticipation that hummed through me like a live wire. Her fight only fueled my determination; every ounce of resistance pushed me further down this path of reclaiming what was mine.
She would find out soon enough just how deep my need for her ran—and how far I was willing to go to make sure she never forgot it again.
That night, I settled into my room; the shadows stretching across the walls like old memories refusing to fade. The adrenaline from the day still pulsed through me, mixing with the thrill of having Holly back in my orbit. I pulled out my phone and stared at her name in my contacts—just a few taps away from stirring chaos in her life.
I hesitated for a moment, considering the right words. No threats this time. No aggression. I wanted to keep her guessing, teetering on the edge of confusion.
You looked good today.
I hit send and leaned back against my pillows, a grin creeping across my face as I imagined her reaction. Would she read it with that same fire in her eyes? Would she feel that familiar jolt of electricity that coursed through us when things got too close? Or would she see it as just another game?
The truth was, it was both.
Part of me relished in the darkness that lingered within; that raw anger still simmered beneath the surface like an active volcano ready to erupt at any moment. But another part craved her—needed her back in my life like oxygen. This wasn’t just about revenge or reclaiming what was mine; this was about all those nights we spent tangled together, our laughter echoing off the walls.
It was about being with someone who made me feel…
I imagined her staring at the screen, reading my message over and over again, trying to decipher what lay beneath those simple words. Did I still want to hurt her? Would she dare let herself believe maybe I wanted her back instead?
That thought thrilled me. I wanted her off balance, caught between fear and desire. She had spent too long pretending to be free of me, and now? Now it was time for reality to settle in.
As minutes ticked by with no response, I felt a rush of satisfaction wash over me. She’d be thinking about me tonight—wondering where this would lead and if she could trust me again.
And somewhere deep inside, I knew this was only the beginning.