Chapter 3

"I'm an idiot." I frowned as my sister, Beatrice, moved the chess piece and won the match.

"Yup." She popped the p and I rolled my eyes.

"So," she started and I already knew where she was headed.

"The answer is no. I just needed protection."

"Sure. Protection from being lonely?" She raised a brow, a mischievous smirk and a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Bea, he wouldn't even give me the time of day if what you're saying was true." I sighed.

A chuckle left her lips,"I was just teasing but it seems like I'm correct. You hired him because he's hot."

"No I did not," my face flushed and she threw her head back laughing.

"I won't tell Nico." She winked.

"Wow thanks so much." I muttered sarcastically.

"When last did he come home?"

"It's been almost 7 weeks." A sigh escaped my lips before I could even realize.

"He's just a busy business man. He'll make time for you when this project is out of the way." She held my hand but my frown deepened.

"Yeah, sure. He'll buy me gifts and presents but that doesn't make up for so much lost time. He's not even in the country."

"I know it's tough babe but I'm positive it will get better."

I didn’t tell her about the cheating or even the occasional times he would put his hands in me. I couldn’t tell her. It was too embarrassing and too painful to even talk about. I get trapped in my married. Nico was cold and cruel to me but to the world he was a saint.

Damien entered the room, his eyes fixed on me as he walked over to the table.

"Good morning ladies,"

"Good morning Mr. Bodyguard." Bea smiled and I repelled the urge to roll my eyes.

"Good morning Damien."

He gave a polite nod, his expression unreadable. "Everything secure for the day. I'll be nearby if you need me."

"Thank you," I replied, a little too quickly.

Bea watched him go, then turned to me with a smirk. "You're blushing."

"I'm not."

"You are. And he's definitely not just a bodyguard, is he?"

I shot her a sharp look. "Bea. I'm married."

She raised both hands. "I didn't say anything. But your face says plenty."

I looked down at my tea, heart quietly pounding.

—

The silence after Damien left was louder than before.

Bea sipped her tea with far too much satisfaction. "You know, some people hire protection. Others hire temptation."

"Beatrice," I warned, but my voice lacked conviction.

She leaned in. "All I'm saying is, maybe it's not about him. Maybe it's about what you're not getting."

I didn't reply. I didn't have to.

Because she was right — not entirely, but enough to sting.

I stood abruptly. "I'm going for a walk."

"To clear your head or run into Damien?" she called after me.

I didn't answer.

But I knew the path I was taking would lead right past where he usually stood guard.

I stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the gravel crunching softly under my slippers. And there Damien was, stationed near the garden, arms crossed, gaze steady but distant.

"Good morning," I said, quieter now.

He gave a curt nod. "Ma'am."

Ma'am?

I swallowed. "You don't have to be so formal, you know."

"It's appropriate," he said, his voice flat. "Given the situation."

"I was just—" I paused. "Trying to be friendly."

His eyes met mine finally , calm, unreadable, but there was something flickering underneath.

"You're married," he said simply. Not accusing. Just final.

I looked away, suddenly too aware of how much space stretched between us and how much didn't.

"I know," I said softly.

He didn't reply. Just turned back toward the driveway like nothing had been said at all.

But I saw his jaw clench.

And that was enough to keep my heart racing.

~

I wasn't planning to get drunk.

I just wanted to forget. Forget about Nico and the way he would treat me. Forget about Damien and his professionalism.

The lights pulsed with the bass, a deep, rhythmic throb that seemed to sync with the ache in my chest.

Bodies moved around me, glittering, grinding, lost in the beat and I wanted to be one of them. Mindless. Free.

I tossed back another shot. Tequila this time. Warm, sharp, familiar. The kind of sting I could handle.

Bea was somewhere on the dance floor, already melting into some guy's arms, her laughter carried over the music.

Tonight, I wanted to be seen.

Wanted to be wanted.

I let my hips move with the music, slow at first, then unapologetic. The hem of my dress rode higher with each sway, and I didn't fix it.

Men watched. I knew they would.

But only one face haunted me.

Damien.

And like the universe enjoyed playing cruel games, I felt him before I saw him. That stare. I didn't need to turn around to know he was there silent, still, watching me like I was something dangerous.

I laughed to myself and kept dancing.

He could've had me.

Then before I knew it I couldn't feel my feet. Or maybe I felt them too much.

Everything was warm my skin, the air, the way my body moved to the music like it had finally remembered how to feel alive.

"You okay?" the guy shouted over the bass, leaning in.

He had a nice smile. Sharp jaw. Smelled expensive. I couldn't remember his name. Maybe Ryan? Or Travis?

I giggled. "I'm great."

He laughed. "You're trouble."

"Maybe," I said, letting my fingers graze the edge of his shirt. "But aren't you bored of girls who aren't?"

His brows lifted, amused. "You came here alone?"

"No," I said. "But I'm always alone."

I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out loose from the liquor and the loneliness.

"Well," he said, stepping closer, "not anymore."

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, slow, intimate. His touch lingered, and for a second, I let it. I let my lips part like I might kiss him.

Like I might really fall into this stranger for a night just to feel something again.

I knew it was wrong, I am married for crying out loud.

"Want to take this upstairs?" The man whispered and before I could respond Damien interrupted.

"I think you've had enough. Time to leave."

"Don't tell me what to do." I snapped.

He didn't flinch. His voice was calm, steady — the kind that cut deeper because it didn't rise.

"I'm not asking, Aisla."

The stranger blinked between us, clearly sensing the shift in the air. "Hey man, she—"

Damien turned to him slowly. "She's married."

That did it. The guy raised his hands, backed off with a shrug. "Didn't know. My bad."

I scoffed, stumbling a little as I turned away from Damien. "You don't get to play hero now."

He stepped closer, steadying me with a hand on my arm. "You came to a club , got wasted, and were about to leave with a stranger. What do you want me to do—clap?"

"I wanted to feel something." I hissed. "Because at least he looked at me like I was there."

I folded my arms, trying to steady myself. "You came here to judge me?"

"No," Damien said. "I came to make sure you got home safe."

His voice wasn't sharp. That's what stung more. No anger. Just... distance.

"You think you're better than me?" I asked, words slurring just slightly.

"I think you're hurting," he replied. "And that you're using this place—and people like him—to forget."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," I muttered.

He gave the faintest smile. "Doesn't mean I won't give it."

Then he stepped aside, holding the door open. "You coming or not?"

And God help me... I followed.