004

ALEX 

If someone had told me a week ago that I’d be riding shotgun in a billionaire’s private car, being chauffeured back to his ridiculously over the top mansion after a public brunch where the paparazzi practically swallowed me whole, I would’ve told them to lay off the tequila.

But here I was.

Watching neon lights blur past the windows as Damon Cross lounged beside me, suit jacket tossed aside, top two buttons of his shirt undone, and that infuriatingly smug smirk on his face like he hadn’t just turned my world inside out.

The car was silent except for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional buzz of Damon’s phone, which he barely glanced at. Me? I kept my gaze locked on the window, trying to convince myself this was fine. Totally normal. Nothing to panic about.

Even though every time his knee brushed mine, my pulse spiked like an idiot.

Get a grip, Carter.

The car finally slowed, pulling through a set of tall, wrought-iron gates, and my jaw damn near hit the floor.

Calling it a “house” was an insult. This was a goddamn palace. A sprawling estate with white stone walls, glass everywhere, perfectly manicured gardens, a driveway bigger than my entire apartment building back in Manhattan. There were fountains, for fuck’s sake. Plural.

I must’ve made a noise because Damon glanced over, clearly amused. “Like what you see?”

I snorted, trying to play it cool. “I’ve seen hotels fancier.”

Lie.

Biggest lie I’d ever told.

He smirked but didn’t call me out on it as the car came to a stop. The driver opened the door and Damon stepped out like he owned the world…….because, apparently, he kind of did.

I followed, my legs a little shaky, and the minute we stepped inside, a group of people I could only assume were maids or house staff appeared out of nowhere.

“Welcome home, Mr. Cross,” one of them greeted.

“And Mr. Carter.” Another woman smiled politely at me.

I blinked. Me?

They knew my name?

What the hell.

“Have the guest suite prepared,” Damon instructed. “And get some food sent up. He’s probably starving.”

I opened my mouth to protest  but honestly, yeah. I was starving. It had been nothing but nerves and whiskey since I woke up in this chaos.

The staff disappeared as quickly as they’d come, and Damon turned to me, his gaze unreadable.

“You should get cleaned up,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Long day.”

I nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of the sweat and anxiety clinging to my skin. “Yeah… yeah, good idea.”

He gestured toward the grand staircase. “Second floor. Last room on the right.”

I muttered a thanks and made a beeline for the stairs, not trusting myself to stay any longer without either passing out or doing something stupid like kissing him.

The guest suite ,  if you could even call it that , was bigger than my entire apartment back home. Hell, it was probably bigger than the whole floor of my building. Cream colored walls, floor to ceiling windows with heavy velvet curtains, a bed so big it could sleep six people, and an ensuite bathroom that looked like something out of a magazine.

I stepped into the bathroom and whistled under my breath.

Marble floors. A rainfall shower. A damn chandelier over the tub.

Jesus.

I peeled out of my clothes and stepped under the hot spray, letting the water wash away the grime and the stress of the day. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let my shoulders drop, allowed myself to breathe.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

And yet… five million dollars.

Six months and I could be free. No more shitty bartending job. No more dodging my family’s hateful stares. No more ex boyfriends and broken hearts.

I could start over.

And maybe… maybe a part of me wasn’t ready to let go of the man whose arms I’d fallen asleep in just two nights ago.

I scrubbed my face and shut off the water, grabbing a thick towel from the rack. I dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around my waist, steam clinging to the mirror as I wiped it with my palm.

I stepped back into the bedroom  and nearly jumped out of my skin.

The door opened without a knock, and there was Damon.

Standing in the doorway like sin incarnate, one hand braced on the frame, eyes raking over me with absolutely no shame.

“Jesus!” I yelped, clutching the towel tighter. “Ever heard of knocking?”

He grinned, completely unfazed. “It’s my house.”

“Yeah, well, maybe try pretending you have manners.”

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, and my heart started doing double time. The room felt smaller. The air is thicker. I backed up instinctively, but he followed….. slow, lazy, predatory.

“I wanted to check on you,” he said, voice dipping just a little. “Make sure you weren’t having second thoughts.”

“I’m fine.”

Lie.

I was seconds from combusting.

He took another step closer.

And I like the absolute idiot I was, kept moving backward until my shoulder blades hit the cool wall.

Damon stopped a foot away. His eyes dropped, lingering on the water droplets sliding down my chest, and heat pooled in my stomach. I could practically feel his gaze on my skin, like a touch without contact.

“You clean up nice,” he murmured.

I swallowed hard, refusing to look away. “You break into all your guests’ rooms for a post shower inspection?”

He chuckled, low and dark, and closed the last bit of space between us. I could feel his breath against my lips. His hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray, damp strand of hair from my forehead.

I froze. My pulse pounded in my ears.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

Mine to his.

And in that split second, I remembered the night in Vegas. His mouth on mine. His hands on my hips. The way he’d looked at me like he wanted to devour me.

Shit.

I should’ve moved. I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve said something, anything.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I was trapped in his gravity, drowning in the storm of his eyes.

He leaned in, so close I could feel his heartbeat under my palm when it landed on his chest. So close the world outside the room disappeared.

And then,  just as his lips almost brushed mine, he stopped.

A beat.

A breath.

A wicked smile.

His hand moved to my hair, ruffling it gently. “Make sure you dry your hair before going to bed.”

Then he stepped back, turned, and walked out of the room like he hadn’t just completely wrecked me.

I stood there, plastered against the wall, heart hammering, towel barely hanging on, and let out a shaky breath.

“What the actual fuck just happened?”

I didn’t have an answer.

And deep down, I already knew this was going to be so much worse than I thought.