“I have my reasons,” he said, his voice vibrating at my neck, sinking in like toxin too quick to resist. “And trust me—it would be wiser not to question them.”
His words wound around me like invisible rope. The room was so still the loudest sound was my breathing.
And then I realized—it wasn’t just me he was restraining. He was holding back something even he feared.
He let me go. Not abruptly—slowly. Deliberately. As if releasing me was the last thing he wanted—and the one thing he feared. His hand slid from my waist, his grip eased from my throat, but the imprint of his touch stayed scorched into my skin.
Only moments ago I’d felt every breath, every muscle, every hardness.
“Goodbye, Miss Elfhorn.” His voice was a dark promise, deeper than any touch.
I stepped forward. Wavered. Barely—but enough to know my balance was off in more ways than one.
Each step to the door felt heavier than the last. My heart slammed against my ribs as if it wanted out.
Was I even breathing right?
My fingers closed around the doorknob. Cool. Solid. I clung to the metal as if my self-control hung on that single moment.
Without turning, I knew he watched me—his gaze on my back, stripping me apart with nothing but will.
“Goodbye, Mr. Miller.”
The hallway air hit me like a blow—cold, sharp. I pressed my lips together. My skin still burned where he’d touched me.
And where he hadn’t, the emptiness felt worse.
I should have run. Shouted. Said something. Anything. But I left like someone already in the process of losing herself—unsure if she wanted to be saved.
What had he done to me?
And why did I want him to do it again?
Chapter 4 Daisy
With a steaming cup of tea in hand, I made my way upstairs to the library. The house was especially quiet that Friday morning, the stillness giving me the perfect chance to dive into the book Damian Miller had just purchased at auction.
I set my tea on the table and carefully pulled the aged tome from the shelf. The scent of ancient paper rose around me—rich, brittle, and intoxicating. Inside, the words were Latin: elegant, forgotten, mysterious.
I lost myself in its pages, carried along by the rhythm of a language that didn’t belong to my time. Hours slipped by unnoticed until I glanced at the window and saw the sun high in the sky.
It had been a week since my visit to Damian’s office, but the memory clung to me. It followed like a shadow—in every quiet moment, in every long night.
The intensity of that encounter had branded itself into my mind: his piercing eyes, the weight of his voice, the way he’d heldme as if he could see straight through my skin to the deepest part of me. Again and again, I heard his words—From the first moment I saw you, I wondered what it would be like to have you. Entirely.
My pulse quickened just remembering. Guilt pressed down hard. He was my boss. I shouldn’t think of him like this.
The shrill ring of my phone jolted me back. I hurried downstairs to answer.
“Hi, Jenn. You on your way?”
“I’ll be there soon. Any chance you can finish up early?”
“I can. Nothing important scheduled today.”
“Perfect. I’ll be there in two hours.”
“Great. How about we grab a bite first, then head to my place to relax? Later, we can take New York by storm.”
