Bella sat at her desk, staring blankly at the documents in front of her. The words blurred together, meaningless, because all she could think about was the warning message.
Stay away from Damien Sinclair.
She had tried to push it out of her mind, to focus on work, but the unease lingered.
Then, the entire office shifted.
A quiet hush fell over the space, followed by the sharp click of expensive shoes against the marble floors. Bella glanced up—and her breath caught.
Damien Sinclair.
He strode into the firm's glass-walled conference room, radiating power in a dark suit that hugged his broad frame. He wasn't alone. Her boss, Richard Monroe, greeted him with a firm handshake, leading him inside.
Bella's pulse kicked up.
What the hell is he doing here?
She hadn't expected to see him again so soon—hadn't even fully recovered from the way he had unraveled her at the gala last night.
His eyes flicked to the office floor.
And then—he saw her.
A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.
Bella's stomach clenched. She forced herself to look away, pretending to be busy. But she could feel his gaze burning into her, like a silent challenge.
Minutes passed.
Then, just as suddenly as he had arrived, Damien was leaving.
Bella exhaled, relief washing over her.
Until a deep voice rumbled behind her.
"You're avoiding me, Isabella."
Her body went rigid.
Slowly, she turned in her chair—and found Damien right there, standing behind her desk, dangerously close.
"How did you—"
"I don't wait," he interrupted smoothly, his lips curling in amusement. "And I don't like being ignored."
Bella's fingers curled into her lap. "I wasn't ignoring you."
Damien tilted his head, studying her. "No?" His voice dipped lower. "Then look me in the eyes and say that again."
Bella forced herself to meet his gaze.
Big mistake.
Because the second she did, it was like falling into fire. His dark eyes burned with something primal, something that made her stomach tighten with forbidden heat.
Damien leaned down, his hands bracing on the arms of her chair, caging her in.
"Tell me," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "What exactly were you doing at my gala last night?"
Bella's heart slammed against her ribs.
He knew.
Or at least, he suspected something.
She schooled her expression, lifting her chin. "I was invited."
Damien's lips twitched. "Were you?"
She swallowed hard. "Is it a crime to attend a gala?"
"No." His fingers brushed lightly against hers, a slow, deliberate touch that sent a shiver racing through her. "But it is a crime to play in my world without knowing the rules."
Bella's breath caught.
Damien leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"I could ruin you, Isabella."
Her pulse pounded.
But instead of fear, all she felt was something dark and thrilling.
So she lifted her chin higher and whispered back, "Then do it."
For a second, something flickered in Damien's gaze—something almost like respect.
Then, just as quickly as he had invaded her space, he straightened, slipping a business card onto her desk.
"Dinner. Tonight."
Bella stared at the card, then back at him.
"What makes you think I'll come?" she challenged.
Damien smirked.
"Because you want to know if the warning was about me…" He paused, eyes dark with promise. "Or because of what will happen if you let me touch you again."
Then he walked away, leaving Bella breathless.
And completely, utterly hooked