005

DAMON 

I closed the door to Alex’s room with a soft click, leaning against it for a second longer than necessary. My heartbeat hadn’t quite settled from the moment before that single, suspended breath between us when his lips were just within reach. I could still feel the heat radiating off his damp skin, the ghost of a droplet trailing down his chest.

And that towel.

Christ.

A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth as I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face. If I’d stayed a second longer, I would’ve caved. I almost did. Hell, I’d wanted to kiss him so badly it physically hurt to pull away.

Patience, Damon.

I had waited this long.

I straightened, the polished floors reflecting the flicker of dimmed hallway lights as I made my way to my study. The mansion was quiet now, the staff retiring for the evening, the endless hum of the day settling into peaceful silence. In here, the world felt manageable. Predictable.

Unlike him.

I poured myself a drink,  something dark and smooth with a bite that matched the ache in my chest  and sank into my leather armchair by the fire. The orange glow threw shadows across the room, and for the first time in years, I felt it again. That restless pull in my chest. The one I thought I’d buried.

It was always him.

The first time I saw Alex Carter was nearly a year ago.

A rainy October evening in Manhattan. I had a conference, one of those tedious events where overpaid men in tailored suits pretended to give a damn about the world outside their ivory towers. I’d made my obligatory appearance, shook the right hands, flashed the necessary smiles, and slipped away before midnight, restless and half-drunk.

I’d stumbled into this tiny bar on a side street , the kind of place you didn’t find unless you needed to forget something. It was dim, a little rough around the edges, and yet there was a warmth to it. A familiarity.

And then I saw him.

Behind the bar, moving like he belonged to the night itself. Dark hair, sharp jawline, a grin that was both reckless and heartbreakingly sincere. But it was his eyes that caught me…..dark, deep, a little too tired for someone so young, like he was carrying the weight of a world no one else could see.

I remember sitting down and watching him work. The way he spoke to people. Not just served them, saw them. In a city like Manhattan, where everyone was in a rush to be anywhere else, he made people feel like they mattered for five minutes.

I hadn’t felt that in years.

And for the first time in my carefully controlled, privilege drenched life, I was absolutely and completely powerless. It was absurd. I was Damon Cross, heir to the Cross empire, owner of ten corporations, half a dozen penthouses, a fleet of cars, and more money than I could spend in three lifetimes. And yet, in that moment, none of it meant a goddamn thing.

I didn’t speak to him that night. Or the next. I just… watched.

A ridiculous infatuation, I told myself. Nothing more.

But it wasn’t. It lodged itself in my chest, unshakable.

When I left Manhattan, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And as weeks turned into months, I found myself making excuses to be in New York, detouring my schedule just to pass that bar, hoping to catch a glimpse.

Pathetic, maybe.

But he was magnetic.

Then, by some twist of fate, I met Riley.

Riley was everything Alex wasn’t …..loud, brash, unapologetically bold. She recognized me instantly, made a joke about my fortune, and bought me a shot of bottom shelf whiskey like we were old friends. I liked her immediately.

Somewhere between drink three and four, she mentioned Alex.

I tried to keep my face neutral, to play it off, but Riley was sharp.

“You’ve seen him,” she’d said, narrowing her eyes. “The bartender. You’ve got that look.”

I should’ve denied it.

I didn’t.

And Riley, damn her, didn’t mock me for it. She just sighed, like a woman too tired of watching the same story play out in different people.

“He deserves better,” she told me, nursing her drink. “That boy’s heart’s been through hell. Family’s a mess. Ex is a cheating bastard. He works his ass off, still gets treated like shit.”

I felt something cold settle in my stomach. A protective, possessive urge I didn’t quite recognize. I wanted to see him happy. To see those tired eyes light up.

Riley had one condition.

“If you hurt him,” she’d said, her voice steel, “I’ll bury you in the goddamn desert. I don’t care how rich you are.”

Fair.

And so, the plan was born.

A Vegas trip to “cheer Alex up.” A few too many drinks. A spur of the moment wedding. And a conveniently timed “business deal” requiring a public marriage.

There was no deal.

No boardroom stipulation.

I made the whole damn thing up.

It was reckless, impulsive, and manipulative. I knew that. I’d justified it at the time, telling myself it was just six months. A harmless arrangement. I’d pay him handsomely, give him a taste of the life he deserved, and when the time came, I’d let him go.

But seeing him tonight…

Watching him back into that wall, his eyes dark and wary and so heartbreakingly vulnerable…

I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to let him go.

The fire crackled softly as I finished my drink, setting the glass down with a soft clink. My family would crucify me if they knew.

Not because I was bisexual, no, they knew that already. I came out in college. A fact met with cold indifference and a muttered, “Don’t embarrass us,” from my father. My mother said nothing. My sister, Claudia, smiled like she didn’t care, though she absolutely did.

I was the black sheep. Always had been.

They lived in Europe now, overseeing Cross International’s European branches, leaving me to manage the American empire. And they were happy to be rid of me, content to let me drown in board meetings and bottom lines.

And for years, I hadn’t cared.

But now…

Now there was someone in my house who made it matter.

I wanted to show Alex everything he’d been denied. Not the parties or the money, though he’d have those too  but the quiet things. Security. A home. Someone to fight his battles when he was too exhausted to lift his head.

Someone to care.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified. Feelings, real ones, were dangerous things. They made you reckless. Vulnerable. And I hadn’t allowed myself to feel anything genuine for anyone in years.

But tonight…

Watching him smile, hearing the hesitant humor in his voice, seeing that spark of defiance when he thought I’d crossed a line,  it was like being struck by lightning.

I wanted to touch him.

To kiss him.

To fall asleep with him tangled in my sheets, soft and warm and safe.

And not because of a contract.

Not because of a scheme.

Because I wanted him.

I stood, pacing the room, the whiskey heat in my veins no match for the storm in my chest.

Maybe it was selfish.

Maybe it was doomed.

But I’d already crossed every line to get him here.

And now that he was, I wasn’t about to let him slip away.

I ran a hand through my hair, glancing at the clock. It was late. I should get some sleep. Tomorrow would bring new complications. Questions. Maybe regrets.

But not tonight.

Tonight, I allowed myself the quiet, dangerous hope that maybe, just maybe, I could turn this reckless gamble into something real.

That maybe, in six months, he wouldn’t want to leave.

I reached for my phone, opened a new message to Riley.

Me: He’s here. And I swear to God, Riles, I’m not going to screw this up.

Her reply was instant.

Riley: You better not. Or it’s the desert for you, Cross.

I smiled.

Closing the phone, I made my way upstairs, pausing for a brief moment outside Alex’s door. The light was off. The room silent. I rested my hand on the door, feeling the faint hum of his presence on the other side.

You’re mine now, Carter.

And I intend to make you see just how much you mean to me.

With a final glance, I turned and headed to my room, the night heavy with unspoken promises.