THE WARNING BENEATH THE SUIT

HIS TOUCH, HER FIRE🔥

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Chapter Two

The Warning Beneath the Suit

The morning sun barely filtered through the thin curtains of Evelyn’s kitchen window, casting long strips of pale gold across the old wood floor. She stood barefoot on the chilled boards, coffee in hand, hair unbrushed, shirt borrowed from her late father—faded red plaid hanging off one shoulder—and tried to ignore the storm rising in her gut. Last night’s encounter with Damien Romano had not just left her rattled; it had torn something loose inside her. Something dangerous. The man had stepped onto her land like he belonged, like the dirt itself bent beneath his polished shoes, and then he’d spoken with a calm so soaked in arrogance it had made her see red. But it was his eyes that haunted her—silver, unreadable, like moonlight over deep water, hiding the depths beneath. He didn’t just want her land. He wanted control. And maybe... something more. She hated herself for the heat his presence had ignited in her. It had clung to her skin all night like sweat, refusing to let her sleep. She’d lain awake, tossing between anger and something darker—desire, she refused to name it desire. He was the enemy. The man with the contract. The name behind the bank letters. The threat dressed in a suit.

So when a soft knock came at the front door before eight a.m., she knew. Some people brought coffee and flowers. Damien Romano brought pressure and silk-wrapped ultimatums. Still, she answered. Of course she did. And there he was again, like a sin summoned by thought alone—leaning against the porch column, sleeves rolled up today, revealing strong forearms and expensive timepieces. His dark hair tousled by the wind, face shaded slightly from the rising sun. He looked like the cover of a scandalous billionaire magazine—if those covers also came with warning labels in bold red font. Her pulse quickened, but she kept her face steel.

“I told you yesterday I’m not interested,” she said, not even bothering with a greeting. He stepped forward, one foot crossing the threshold, not enough to be intrusive, just enough to unsettle. “And I told you yesterday, I don’t like being ignored.”

“Well, you’re in the wrong county for obedience,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “People out here don’t give a damn how expensive your suit is.”

He smiled slightly. “Then it’s a good thing I wore jeans today.”

She looked him over—and sure enough, the man had dressed down. Dark jeans, dress shirt open at the collar, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did. It made him look less like a vulture and more like a wolf that knew how to blend in. Still dangerous. Still deadly. Just more… accessible. And that made him even more of a threat.

“What do you want?” she asked, refusing to step aside even as he towered over her.

“To talk. Ten minutes. Then I’ll leave.” When she didn’t move, he leaned in slightly. “You can even hold a shotgun if it makes you feel better.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need a gun to feel safe.”

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “No. I didn’t think you did.”

Against her better judgment, Evelyn stepped back. Just once. Just far enough to let him in. He entered like smoke, silent and self-assured, his presence already coiling in the air. He didn’t look around like a guest, didn’t compliment her home, didn’t pretend to care. He just moved to the kitchen table and sat, legs spread, hands laced on the worn wood, watching her like a man watching a fire he couldn’t put out.

“I’m not selling,” she said again, leaning against the sink. “If you came all this way to hear that a second time, you’ve wasted your gas.”

“I came to tell you what happens next,” he said, calm as ever. “The bank’s waiting. The debts your father left behind weren’t just from the drought. He owed people. And some of those people? They’re not as polite as I am.”

“Polite?” she scoffed. “That what you call showing up uninvited and threatening to rip my family’s legacy out from under me?”

“I call it giving you a choice,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You think I’m the villain in this, but I’m the only one offering you a way out that doesn’t leave you penniless and dragged through court.”

“I’d rather burn the ranch down than hand it to you.”

“Then you’re more stubborn than I thought.” He leaned forward now, elbows on the table, voice lowering. “And maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hit her like a slap. She blinked, hard, trying to process them. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He stood slowly, the chair scraping against the floor as he approached her. “You stormed up to my car like a soldier, glared at me like you wanted to rip my throat out, and you didn’t flinch when I told you I could ruin you. That kind of fire? I don’t see that in my world.”

“This isn’t a game,” she said, but her voice faltered.

“I know,” he said, now just inches from her. “And I don’t play with fire unless I want to get burned.”

His eyes dropped to her lips. Just once. Just a flicker. And it was enough to make her stomach twist. She hated how close he was. Hated the way her body leaned in when her mind screamed to pull away.

“You don’t know me,” she whispered.

“I know enough.” His voice was like velvet—low, dangerous, sensual. “I know you’d rather die than surrender. I know your pride’s bigger than this house. I know you fight like a woman who’s been disappointed too many times. And I know that right now, you’re wondering what I’d feel like if I kissed you.”

She swallowed hard, unable to move. Her breathing hitched. “You think pretty words and money make you irresistible?”

“No,” he said. “I think the heat between us already answered that question.”

He reached out, fingertips grazing her jaw—not grabbing, not forcing, just touching, barely, like a promise. And her body betrayed her with a soft gasp, her skin lighting up under his touch like a struck match.

But then she pulled back. Fast. Like a snap. “Get out,” she said, voice shaking.

He nodded, slowly, stepping away with no apology. “Next time I come, it won’t be for a deal. It’ll be a warning.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

He smiled then, the kind of smile that said he’d already won something. “We’ll see.”

He walked to the door, opened it, and paused, hand on the frame. “One more thing,” he said without looking back. “If you’re going to hate me, Evelyn… hate me with your whole heart. Half of you already wants the opposite.”

And then he was gone again.

Leaving her alone in a kitchen that suddenly felt too small, with air that felt too hot, and a body that throbbed with frustration, rage, and something deeper. Something terrifying. Because he was right. Some part of her did want him. Some wild, reckless part. And that part… was winning.

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