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Chapter 3

Damien’s POV

Clarissa hasn’t always looked this beautiful.

The Clarissa I knew back then… She wasn’t like this. She wasn’t someone who made my chest tighten or my jaw clench and is someone I always see as a sister. But now that I’m back from the States, everything’s changed totally. She’s changed. Long wavy hair, soft lips, that hourglass shape… God. She’s sexy, way too sexy. I couldn’t tear my eyes off her the entire time we talked. Damn!

Then she came downstairs dressed for the party, and my heart just about jumped out of my damn chest.

She looked… so pretty and gorgeous in that short red gown. I couldn’t help but salivate.

My eyes betrayed me; I couldn’t control myself anymore, scanning every curve on her hot body; my brain was just fogging up. What the hell, Damien? She’s your step-cousin. You shouldn’t be thinking these things. But I couldn’t stop myself.

When did she get this hot?

Why the hell am I… jealous? The thought of some random guy looking at her the way I just did made my fists tighten. I hated it. I hated how much I cared.

I caught myself, zoned out and staring at her. I didn’t know what to think anymore. My head was a mess. I kept repeating to myself... She’s like a sister. A sister, Damien. You can’t look at her like that.

But my body didn’t listen.

“You can’t go out wearing that,” I snapped, harsher than I meant. “It’s too short. Go and change.”

Her eyes widened, clearly surprised. I guess I surprised myself too. I was overreacting.

“You’re not my elder brother or my elder sister. You don’t get to tell me what to wear,” she said, arms crossed, chin tilted up in defiance. Making her prettier and cuter.

She was right. I wasn’t her brother. I was just… a step cousin who isn’t even related by blood. But still, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t let her walk out like that; I’d go crazy!

“If you go out looking like this, I swear to God I will…” I stopped. My tongue froze mid-sentence. I couldn’t finish it. I couldn’t let her hear what I was really thinking; I shouldn’t make it look like I was falling for her. I was losing control.

Suddenly, she stepped closer to me, so close that I could even smell her perfume. Her hand reached for my collar, and she drew me closer to her, her lips just inches from mine. My heart raced, and my throat dried. What the hell is she trying to do?

“You’ll do what to me, Damien?” She whispered, teasing and taunting.

I swallowed hard and caught my breath immediately. I tossed her away gently; I had to stop these burning feelings.

“I need you to be a good girl, Clarissa. Okay?” I forced the words out, low and breathy. “Just go upstairs and change.”

But she wasn’t done; she refused to come closer to me again and whispered.

“What would you give me if I changed?” Her voice was silky, laced with something dangerous and flirty.

She tossed her hair with one hand and bit her lower lip, and I swear I almost groaned out loud. Every inch of her body screamed temptation. Then, like the final blow, her hand slipped, pulling her top slightly down, her breast nearly spilling out.

“I have shorter dresses too, Damien. Would you like me to try them on for you?” She asked, smirking like she knew exactly what she was doing.

I swallowed hard.

What is she doing to me? I couldn’t take it anymore. My fists clenched. My jaw tightened. Every part of me wanted her, but everything inside me screamed no.

Before I could say another word, she spun around and stormed out of the house, the door slamming behind her.

“I’m going to the party, Damien! Don’t worry about me; I’ll be back soon!” she yelled from outside.

I exhaled hard. Thank goodness she’s out first; who knows what I would do to her if she were here.

What the hell is going on?

She’s not a little girl anymore, that’s for damn sure.

Clarissa’s POV

I didn’t know why Damien was trying to stop me. It’s not like I needed his permission to go anywhere. But the weirdest part wasn’t him.

It was me.

I didn’t even recognize myself back there. The way I acted… the things I said… the way I drew his collar and whispered into his ear and let my top slide, revealing my breast. What was I thinking?

I was being controlled by my emotions and hormones, or maybe my heartbreak? I don’t know.

The moment I stepped outside, I felt flushed with shame. I couldn’t look back. I didn’t want to, not after disgracing myself in there. My chest was tight, and my heart was pounding. Still, I hailed a cab and made my way to the party.

I just wanted to forget everything. Forget Damien. Forget the look in his eyes. Forget Clinton and the way he destroyed me. And this could be the only way to do that; I needed to get drunk tonight.

I wasn’t going to let his betrayal ruin me anymore.

The music was already pounding when I walked in.

I scanned the crowd; there were lots of faces I didn’t recognize. Of course I shouldn’t. I looked around, feeling disgusted by couples dancing and people drinking and laughing. A group of girls stood by the corner, gossiping. I just stood by as I overheard one of them say,

“Hey Emily, do you think he’ll come tonight?” giggled a brunette with heavy eyeliner and fake nails.

“Who?” her friend asked, tossing her hair and constantly checking her lipstick in a tiny mirror.

“The hottest guy on campus, duh. If he shows up, I’m literally throwing myself at him.”

I rolled my eyes.

Who cares? Hot guys didn’t mean anything to me. Not after Clinton and after what I’d been through.

I was just trying to keep it together, to stand tall in my heels and act like I belonged. But truthfully? I felt out of place. The girls were putting on expensive clothes and jewelry.

Emily kept glancing toward the door, pouting her lips; it seems like the guy is really important to her. Her friend sighed. “Girl, he’s not coming to a freshman party. Get over it.”

Emily pouted. “If Damien doesn’t come, why did I even bother getting dressed up?”

Damien? My breath caught. Were they… talking about my Damien?

The thought didn’t sit right; I found myself frowning. Am I jealous?

It occurred to me that Clinton might come to this party as well, and I shouldn’t see him. But before I could think further, my eyes locked on a familiar face across the room, Clinton. Speaking of the devil!

I froze. What the hell? He shouldn’t see me, not here.

He looked relaxed, too relaxed. Talking to some guy, swirling wine in a plastic cup like he owned the place. I ducked behind a pillar, trying not to be seen. But I could hear their voices from where I stood.

His friend nudged him. “Yo, he’s coming tonight, right? The new guy?”

“Who?” Clinton asked, already sounding irritated.

“The guy who moved in with a freshman chick. Damien, I think. I heard girls are going crazy over him.”

Clinton didn’t answer. I’m sure he knew Damien because we went to the same college.

“Are you hearing me? That dude’s basically a god around here.”

Clinton snapped. “I don’t care. Let him be whoever the hell he wants to be.”

I clenched my fists. Clinton sounded bitter. Like he knew something.

That’s when I knew I had to get out of there, being in the same room with him… It brought everything crashing back: the betrayal, the lies, the tears. I turned quickly; I was desperate to leave without drawing attention.

But fate had other plans.

I collided with a waitress carrying a tray of drinks.

The glasses shattered. Liquid splashed across the floor.

And suddenly, every single head turned toward me. I stood frozen as everyone stared at me. I just stood there with my eyes wide open.

But only one pair of eyes made my knees weak: Clinton’s. His gaze bore into me, wide with recognition and rage? Like, I wasn’t supposed to be here and hatred.

Then, his friend whispered something, pointing at me. “You know her, right? That’s the girl who moved in with Damien, the hottest guy on campus.”

Clinton’s entire face changed. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared.

Why did he look so… angry?

And why was everyone suddenly looking at me like I was the villain in someone else’s story?