FIRE UNDER SKIN

He didn’t knock.

Didn’t announce himself.

The mansion door flew open like a windstorm as Damien strode in, suit jacket flaring behind him, jaw set with a violence Calla had never seen before. Julian trailed a few feet behind him, unreadable as always.

“Where is she?” Damien’s voice cut through the hall like a blade.

Calla was already waiting.

Standing at the top of the marble staircase, arms crossed over her chest, silk robe clinging to her skin. Calm, controlled, until she saw his eyes—glowing with restrained fury. Not at her. For her.

He climbed the stairs without stopping.

“Where is she?” he repeated, lower this time.

“If you mean the woman in white,” Calla said, steady, “she left.”

A pause.

His hands clenched. “She spoke to you.”

“She did.”

“What did she say?”

“That you don’t give your heart to anyone. That you're at war. That I’m standing in the middle of a battlefield I didn’t ask to enter.”

Silence stretched.

Calla moved closer.

“Tell me the truth, Damien.”

“I told you—”

“No,” she cut him off. “No more half-answers. I know who my father is now. I know this isn’t about my mother’s debts. And I know you’re lying to protect me from something bigger. So, tell me.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

Something shifted in his expression—not weakness.

Just… rawness.

“Your father used to be my mentor.”

That stopped her.

“He brought me into the syndicate. Groomed me to inherit the family business. He was smart. Cold. Strategic. Until he broke the one rule.”

“What rule?”

“Don’t fall in love with an outsider.”

Calla’s blood froze.

“He fell in love with your mother.”

Damien stepped closer now. Each step slow, deliberate. His voice was dark silk.

“When the board found out, they sent me to kill him.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“I refused,” Damien said. “He saved me once. I couldn’t betray him. But someone else didn’t hesitate. They burned your family out. Forced him into hiding. And now?”

He looked straight into her eyes.

“Now he wants revenge. Not just on the syndicate. On me.”

“Why?”

“Because I became everything he was supposed to be. And I have you.”

Calla’s throat tightened.

“You think I’m some pawn in this?”

“No,” Damien said, voice low. “You’re the only piece that matters.”

The air between them crackled.

She stepped closer, slowly, until her body brushed his. His hand hovered near her hip, but didn’t touch. Not yet.

“Then stop treating me like porcelain,” she whispered.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do.”

“No,” he growled, voice almost broken. “You think you want control. You think you want me to take you. But if I start, Calla… I won’t stop. I won’t ever stop.”

She grabbed his hand and placed it on her waist.

“Then don’t.”

---

They collided.

Mouths crashing, bodies pressed against the wall like it was the only thing keeping them upright. Damien kissed her with a violence born from restraint — months of watching, controlling, holding back.

Now?

He was unraveling.

His hand slid up the curve of her thigh, parting the robe like it was an obstacle. She moaned into his mouth, fingers digging into his back.

“Say it,” he breathed against her skin. “Say it’s mine.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped. “Damien—”

He lifted her effortlessly, carried her to the bed like she weighed nothing, and pinned her down with one hand while the other traced a line down her exposed stomach.

“I need to ruin you,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “So no one else ever tries to touch what’s mine.”

Calla arched beneath him, fire licking every nerve ending.

“I want to be ruined.”

---

After, the silence was thick with something unsaid.

He lay beside her, shirt gone, hair a mess, hand curled possessively on her hip. But his eyes… they stared into shadows.

“You said my father’s alive,” she murmured. “Have you seen him?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“A week before you came here.”

She turned. “What did he want?”

Damien looked at her.

“To trade your life for something I wouldn’t give.”

Calla swallowed.

“What did he want?”

Damien’s eyes were unreadable.

“Me.”