CHAPTER 3: BUTTERFLY

DAMIEN'S POV

“What are you doing?” Her voice trembles slightly.

“I need your help.”

I back her against the wall and place one hand beside her head. Her breathing turns uneven beneath my presence.

“There are men outside looking for me, and if they come through that door, I need you to pretend I'm supposed to be here.”

“What the hell?” She struggles to pull free. “You're hurting me.”

I loosen my hand immediately. “Listen, I won't hurt you.”

She snaps, “You just dragged me across my shop and pinned me to a wall. What am I supposed to think?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then let me go.”

“I will, as soon as they're gone.”

Footsteps sound outside. Her eyes dart toward the door, and I hear the vehicles stopping outside. They're close.

I pull off my jacket and throw it onto a nearby chair, then loosen my tie and toss that after it. The jacket carries my name without needing a word spoken.

I whisper, “Stay calm. Act the part of my girlfriend for five minutes. If they see you frightened of me, they'll come inside.” I pull a strand of her hair “Okay, baby?”

“Baby?” She rolls her eyes in shock. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Despite the situation, I almost smile. She has a mouth on her. Interesting.

The footsteps stop directly outside. A shadow passes across the glass. She stiffens, and I turn toward the door, keeping my back against it. I look down at her, the tip of my nose slowly brushing against hers in a teasing gesture.

“Kiss me.”

Her eyes widen. Her voice is low and sharp. “What?”

The door handle moves. I pull her against me and press my mouth to hers before she gets the chance to argue. She freezes beneath my hands.

Then I notice the strange feeling in my head. The noise is gone, I have spent years learning to live with the dead. Sometimes I see them in mirrors, sometimes I hear voices when nobody is speaking.

Sometimes a room fills with faces that aren't there, and I have learned not to react because reacting only makes the men around me wonder whether their Godfather is losing his mind.

But now there is nothing, no voices, no memories screaming for my attention. There is only a strange calm that I don't want to stop. Could she be behind the calmness in my head?

Her lips are soft against mine, and her fingers have curled into the front of my shirt without either of us deciding to put them there.

The men outside remain near the door. I kiss her again, deeper this time, because they need to believe what they're seeing through the glass.

But that isn't the only reason. I don't want to stop, and that fact makes my heart ache strangely.

Eventually, the footsteps move away. A car door slams, then another. I wait until the sound of the engines fades into the distance before I release her.

She stares at me, her hands wiping the memory of the kiss from her lips.

I straighten my shirt as though I haven't just discovered that one kiss from her can silence years of ghosts.

“Well, that was fun.”

Her expression changes like she's about to swallow me whole. Her eyes are hot with anger.

I flash a smile. “I wouldn't mind doing that again sometime. Thanks for your help by the way. How should I repay this kindness? In cash or?” I pause, leaning forward to her lips. “In kind” I wink an eye.

Her hand crashes against my cheek. The slap turns my face to the side. I slowly look back at her, my hand massaging the spot that burns from the slap.

“What the fuck is your problem?” There is anger in her voice now, and her voice trembles with every word.

I look at her with a lazy smirk on my face. “Hmmmm, Fiesty little thing. Didn't see that coming.”

“Keep your craziness to yourself and get the hell out of my shop.” She raises her voice even higher now.

I raise an eyebrow.

“You are something, acting like you didn't just enjoy that a few seconds ago. I could literally feel your lips begging for more. Your cheeks are just recovering from being flushed.”

“What? You're unbelievably disgusting.” She tries to move past me, but I catch her wrist, then hesitate.

Something about her feels familiar. Not her face, I still can't see it properly. It's her voice and the scent of flowers clinging to her clothes. It reminds me of someone.

I release her and reach for her shoulder instead, guiding her toward the light.

“Where are you taking me, you scumbag?”

She glares at me as I move her out from beneath the shadow. The light falls across her face, and I stop, my mouth falling open.

Mara?

For several seconds, I forget about the men who chased me across the city, and the gun still hidden beneath my shirt.

It is her. The woman I have secretly watched from a distance for years, the woman whose small habits I know better than I should, whose favorite flowers I remember, whose difficult days have quietly received anonymous kindness because I could never bring myself to watch her struggle when I had the power to make things easier.

And now I just kissed her. Of all the ways I imagined my first meeting with her to be, this was not one of them.

“Mara?”

Her expression changes immediately. Confusion flickers across her face.

“How... How do you know my name?”

I look at her face and let myself take her in properly for the first time tonight. God, what's not to love about Mara? Her curls frame her cheeks perfectly, her soft lips are still slightly smudged from the kiss, and those eyes are fixed on me with fear beneath them, making something dark and possessive settle beneath my ribs.

“You should go,” she says, gesturing toward the door.

I pick up my jacket, my eyes still fixed on her, and slip it over my shoulder. She watches me carefully.

I pause at the door and look back at her. Her eyes meet mine, and a small smile tugs at my lips.

“There's something about your scent, Mara,” I say. “I like it.”

Her expression hardens. She folds her arms across her chest, staring at me with that confused look in her eyes.

“Can we do this again?” I say the words as though I were just discussing shopping.

She scoffs and points a finger at me. “You are totally insane.”

“For real, though, I don't mind getting into a few more troubles if it means getting closer to you.”

She points toward the door.

“Get out. Now.”

I laugh quietly and step outside. The cold air hits my face, but the noise in my head remains strangely quiet. I look through the glass one last time. Mara is still standing there, watching me as though she is trying to understand what just happened.

I grin and slip my hands into my pockets. “Fate is damn twisted,” I murmur. “You just flew into my web, butterfly.”

Then I walk away.