CHAPTER 10

Damien POV

"Damn! Who's the hot chick?"

I turned to find Marcus leaning against the wall, watching Morgan disappear with a predatory look because to him she's just another new toy.

"None of your business," I said flatly.

"Come on, D." Marcus pushed off the wall, that shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "You can't just parade a woman like that through the building and expect me not to notice. She's fucking gorgeous. Those eyes? That body? Please tell me she's single."

"She's the model for the new project launch." I headed back toward my office. Away from the elevators, far from the lingering scent of her perfume that was doing things to my head. "Which means she's off-limits to you."

"Off-limits?" Marcus followed me, laughing. "Since when do you care who I hook up with?"

"Since I'm paying her a million dollars to represent this company." I stopped at my office door. Turned to face him. "And I'm not about to let you fuck that up because you can't keep it in your pants for five minutes."

"Ouch." Marcus put a hand over his heart like I'd wounded him. "That hurts, brother. Really cuts deep."

"I'm serious, Marcus. Stay away from her."

"Why?" His eyes narrowed. Something calculating flickered behind the playboy facade. "You want her for yourself?"

"What? No. That's not—" I caught myself. Forced my voice to stay level. "She's an employee. That's it."

"Right. An employee." Marcus's grin widened. "An employee you nearly ripped my head off for talking to. An employee you watched walk away like she was the only person in the hallway. Come on, D. I know that look."

"You don't know anything."

"I know you haven't looked at a woman like that since—" He stopped, frowned a bit then continued. "Well. In a long time." He finished.

Since Anastasia.

He didn't need to say her name because I knew.

My jaw clenched. "This conversation is over."

"Is it though?" Marcus wasn't backing down. Never did when he smelled blood in the water. "Because that whole 'morality clause' speech you gave her? That was some possessive bullshit, man. Since when do you care about morality clauses?"

"Since I started running a billion-dollar company that can't afford scandals."

"Bullshit." Marcus stepped closer. Lowered his voice. "You want her. Just admit it."

"I don't want her." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. "I barely know her."

"Then you won't mind if I—"

"Touch her and I'll break your arm."

The words came out before I could stop them.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ I thought, sighing as Marcus's eyebrows shot up. Then he started laughing, in this almost mocking way.

"Holy shit. You've got it bad."

"Shut up, Marcus."

"No, no. This is amazing." He was grinning like Christmas had come early. "Damien Cross, the ice king himself, losing his cool over some model he just met. This is the best thing I've seen in years."

"I'm not losing anything." I pushed past him into my office. "And she's not some model. She's the face of a multi-million dollar campaign. Which you would understand if you actually contributed anything to this company instead of just partying and fucking your way through Manhattan."

"Hey." Marcus's smile faded slightly. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Everything I am, I learned from the best, brother. You taught me well."

The words hit harder than they should have.

Because he was right.

I'd been him once. The player, the party boy. The one who treated women like they were disposable.

Before Anastasia. Before everything went to hell.

Before Morgan Hayes walked into my conference room and made me feel something I thought I'd buried six years ago.

"That was different," I said quietly.

"Was it?" Marcus leaned against the doorframe. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly the same. You want something. You take it. You move on. That's the Cross way, right?"

"Get out."

"Damien—"

"I said get out, Marcus." I turned away from him. Faced the window. The city spread out below me like a game board. "I have work to do."

"Fine." I heard him push off the doorframe. "But for what it's worth? She looked at you the same way you looked at her. Whatever's going on between you two, it's not one-sided."

The door closed behind him.

I stood there. Staring at the city.

Thinking about storm-blue eyes that had looked familiar. About the way my entire body had reacted when our hands touched. About the electricity that had shot through me like recognition.

Like I knew her.

But I didn't.

I'd never seen Morgan Hayes before today.

So why did touching her feel like coming home?

Why did watching her walk away feel like losing something I couldn't name?

I pulled out my phone. Pulled up her file.

Morgan Hayes. Twenty-six years old. Represented by Kathy. Based in Seattle. No social media presence worth mentioning. A handful of successful campaigns over the past few years.

Nothing special. Nothing that explained why my brother was right.

Why I felt this electricity?

Why the thought of Marcus or anyone else touching her made me want to break things.

I scrolled through the photos in her portfolio. Professional shots. Beautiful. She photographed like a dream.

But something was off.

In every photo, she looked... guarded. Like she was hiding something behind those eyes.

Like she had secrets.

My finger hovered over her contact information. Her phone number right there.

I could call her. Ask her to dinner. Use the campaign as an excuse.

I could—

No.

I closed the file. Set the phone down.

Morgan Hayes was an employee. A professional relationship. Nothing more.

That's what it had to be.

Because I'd learned my lesson about mixing business with pleasure.

Learned it the hard way.

And I wasn't going down that road again.

No matter how much my body was screaming at me to chase after her.

No matter how much I wanted to know why she'd looked at me in that hallway like I'd broken her heart.

Like I'd destroyed her.

Like she knew me.

Even though she couldn't possibly.

Could she?