The next morning came with the usual swarm of flashes—paparazzi crowding outside her condo building, fans holding out posters, and her name trending on social media for yet another red carpet look. Ava Sinclair smiled, waved, posed. The practiced grace of a Hollywood star. But inside, she was crumbling.
The melody still haunted her.
The message… she hadn't imagined it. The number was wiped clean from her phone logs, but the words still echoed:
"Come to me."
She didn't know who he was. She didn't know where to go. But a part of her did. Deep down, in a place she had long locked away.
Later that evening, Ava attended a private gala at the Blackwood Estate—a neo-Gothic mansion perched on the cliffs just outside the city. She hadn't meant to go. The invitation was anonymous. But something about the calligraphy, the scent on the envelope—it drew her in. And when she saw the name etched in black ink—D. Blackwood—her body moved before her mind could stop it.
The crowd was sleek, wealthy, dangerous. Celebrities and elite power players mingled, champagne glasses clinking beneath chandeliers shaped like dripping obsidian. And at the far end of the ballroom… he stood.
Damien Blackwood.
He was taller than she remembered in her dreams—if those were dreams. Dressed in black on black, with piercing storm-gray eyes that burned into her. Everyone in the room seemed to part naturally around him, like he commanded space without speaking a word.
Their eyes met. It was instant. Electric.
She walked toward him slowly, each step measured, heart thudding in her chest like a warning.
"You came," he murmured, voice velvet and danger.
"You summoned me," Ava replied, lips curving slightly. "Who are you?"
He stepped closer, and the air changed—denser, heavier with something unspoken.
"I'm the man who never stopped watching you."
Her breath hitched. "I don't even know you."
"But your soul does," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers trailing with heat. "You've known me long before you were Ava Sinclair."
She should have stepped back. She should have run. Instead, she leaned in.
And when he kissed her—it wasn't gentle. It was a claiming. A fire that licked her insides and dragged every hidden ache to the surface. His hands gripped her waist, her body pinned between the cold marble pillar and his body, one that radiated pure power. He kissed like he wanted to ruin her. And God, she wanted to be ruined.
She moaned into his mouth, and his grip tightened. Her fame, her world, her rules—forgotten in the haze of his touch.
"Someone will see—" she whispered breathlessly.
"Let them," he growled. "Let them see who you belong to."
They barely made it to the upper chamber.
She didn't remember walking. Only the way his fingers curled around hers, leading her through hidden doors until they reached a room carved in shadows and gold. The moment the door closed, he had her pressed against it, their clothes discarded in a trail across the floor.
His mouth roamed her neck, collarbone, breasts—leaving marks only he could place. His hands found every secret place, every inch of her that ached for something darker, deeper. She wasn't Ava Sinclair here. She was something raw. Unmasked.
"Tell me to stop," Damien whispered, eyes locked on hers.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him into her. "Never."
The room echoed with breathless moans, with skin against silk, with the symphony of two broken pieces colliding in the dark.
And for one night, fame meant nothing.
Only the villain and the starlet remained.
Cliffhanger:
Later, tangled in satin sheets, Damien brushed a kiss against the nape of her neck.
"You still don't remember me, do you?"
Ava blinked, half-asleep. "What do you mean?"
He turned her gently to face him, his voice low and deadly calm.
"You were there the night everything burned, Ava. You were the reason I became this."
Her eyes widened. "What… what are you talking about?"
But Damien only smiled, dark and soft, as lightning flashed beyond the balcony.
And in the distance, that same haunting melody began to play again—this time, from inside the house.
To be continued…