The screen offered endless films. While my chosen movie played, breakfast arrived: fresh fruit, Greek yogurt with honey and granola, a warm croissant, savory rolls, steaming tea, coffee, orange juice.
I tried to focus, but my eyes kept straying to Damian bent over his work. The air seemed charged, though nothing stirred but the engines’ low hum.
Halfway through, my eyelids grew heavy. In that haze between wake and sleep, warmth brushed near. When I blinked, Damian was on the sofa beside me.
“Wolf of Wall Street… a good choice,” he murmured.
I straightened. “It’s fascinating.”
“Entertaining, yes. But also a portrait of power and greed. DiCaprio nails it.”
“Sometimes real stories are more unbelievable than fiction.”
His mouth curved faintly. “What do you say we drop the formalities, Miss Elfhorn?”
“Gladly.”
Conversation flowed—power, greed, the unraveling film. At one point, Damian reached for the fruit bowl. He plucked a strawberry and held it out.
I accepted, my fingers grazing his. The fleeting contact tingled across my skin. I bit into the berry, its sweetness bright on my tongue, while his eyes stayed locked on me.
He chose one for himself, slid it past his lips. My breath caught. Time thinned into silence, his cologne—wood and wild earth—closing around me.
Another berry between his fingers, his gaze turned playful, deliberately seductive. He lifted it toward my mouth, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
I raised my hand to take it, only for him to pull it back. The teasing motion stalled me. In that pause, he leaned down—closer than safe.
“What are you doing to me, Daisy?” he murmured, voice low, edged with a growl. “Not even an hour on this plane and I can barely hold back.”
He lifted the fruit to my lips. They trembled at the touch. For a moment, I thought of turning away. The strawberry felt absurd between us—a flimsy mask over something darker. But slowly, I parted my lips, letting him place it inside. His fingers lingered, brushing against my mouth with a touch too soft, too intimate.
“I told myself a thousand times to stay away from you. But you make it impossible.”
“You’re my boss.” The words came thin, a shield that couldn’t hold.
“I don’t care about that. There are other reasons that forbid it.”
What reasons? The thought spun, unanswered.
“But I want you so badly,” he murmured, the air thickening around us.
Then, without hesitation, he bent and kissed me—gentle but certain, like a tide rolling in only to sweep everything away.Electricity crashed through me. His mouth was firm yet tender, hunger and passion bound together. I tasted strawberries on his tongue, mingled with something darker, more dangerous. My thoughts dissolved, lost in the heat of him.
A rush of arousal surged through me. My hands fisted in his shirt, clinging as the kiss deepened. The world blurred at the edges. Without breaking away, Damian set the bowl aside. In one fluid motion, he seized my wrists, pinned them above my head, and leaned over me. His mouth claimed mine with a determination that shook me to my core. His hardness pressed against my thigh.
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you. I want you only for myself. I want you to belong to me.” He kissed me again.
Almost instinctively, my body arched toward his, driven by a craving I couldn’t fight. The heat of his skin, the rough strength of his fingers—it overwhelmed me. I didn’t understand why I reacted to him so fiercely, only that I did.
Then, as suddenly as he’d started, he pulled away.
“Fuck!” The curse tore out of him, raw and strained. He dragged a hand through his hair, shut his eyes, and I saw the battle raging inside him. “He’s going to kill me,” he muttered.
“Who?” I asked.
Damian shook his head. Slowly, he straightened, his shoulders squaring. “I’m anything but steady when it comes to you.”
“I’m not either,” I admitted.
