08:14 – Damian:Then you’d better flex yourself to your desk within the next two hours. An assignment’s coming in. Check your email.
08:14 – Daisy:I’ll be there in thirty minutes. That should be enough.
Smiling, I slipped my phone away and headed for the bus stop. Once on the bus, it buzzed again.
08:20 – Damian:How are you? Recovered?
08:20 – Daisy:More or less back on my feet. Thanks again for yesterday.
08:21 – Damian:Let’s just say I rarely do things without ulterior motives. Is your friend coming back next weekend?
08:21 – Daisy:No, why?
08:22 – Damian:I have a project that needs… attention. Your expertise is required.
08:22 – Daisy:What’s it about?
08:23 – Damian:I’ll tell you at the shop. Sometime this week. Prepare yourself.
A treacherous tingling spread through me, butterflies tumbling inside my stomach, throwing everything into chaos. I bit my lip, reading his message again, but the grin creeping across my face couldn’t be stopped. Damn. Was it the project? Or was it him? Probably both. And that was exactly what scared me.
I put my phone away. My heart was pounding. Too fast. Too loud. What was it with this man? A few messages and my mind was mush, as if he’d flipped a switch in me I could no longer find.
He was a black hole. Pulling everything toward him. Dangerous. Unfathomable. And I knew that once I got caught in it, I would never get out again.
That Thursday afternoon, I was buried in work, carefully cleaning an ancient Greek statue with a soft brush. The client was due in less than ten minutes, and I was determined not to damage even the most fragile carvings. The piece depicted a goddess, astonishingly well preserved, each curve and line speaking across centuries.
When I was satisfied, I placed the goddess in a velvet-lined box, securing her against harm. At my desk, I pulled up the corresponding file and printed the transfer documents—every step precise, every movement deliberate.
It had been four days since I last heard from Damian Miller, and still my mind kept circling back to our encounter. What had I been thinking? How could I have let it happen? Seeing him again would be unbearable. Would he pretend that kiss never happened? Or would he do it again?
The thought alone sent a sharp rush through me, my pulse thundering in my veins.
It was a restless collision of fear and desire I couldn’t shake. But what if he regretted it? What if I had been nothing more than a lapse in judgment, a mistake already forgotten? The not knowing ate at me, wore me thin, unsettled every hour of my day.
For days I had tried to block it out, to lose myself in my work, but the memory burned into me, seared there like a brand. Again and again, I felt his mouth on mine—the pressure, the heat, the consuming intensity that eclipsed the world.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, but the image came roaring back. That kiss had not been a question. It had been a demand—one my body obeyed without hesitation.
He had reached into something nameless inside me. Something dark. Something that wanted him as much as it feared him. I hated myself for still being able to taste him. It was as if he had broken open a door I had fought to keep locked—and now I couldn’t shut it again.
Why did even the thought of him send a shiver down my spine?
I had kissed men before. Handsome men. Charming men. But with Damian, everything was different. What if I wasn’t strong enough to push him away next time? Worse—what if I didn’t even want to?
That was the most terrifying thought of all.
I forced myself back to the present, to the goddess waiting in her box. A soft chime at the front door cut through the silence. Instinctively, I lowered the statue into its padding just as the door opened.
“Miss Elfhorn,” Marlon said as he stepped inside. The bodyguard was followed by an older gentleman in a perfectly tailored suit. “Mr. Stanholder is here.”
The customer scanned the room with a sharp, appraising look before giving me a polite nod.
“Mr. Stanholder,” I greeted, moving forward to shake his hand.
“Thank you for receiving me, Miss Elfhorn.”
“I’ve prepared the statue for you,” I said, gesturing to my desk.
