Chapter 2: A Reckless Chase

I shoved through the heavy glass doors, bursting out onto the secluded stone balcony. My breath came in hard, ragged gasps. The pounding of my own heart drowned out the distant music of the gala. Below me, the manicured gardens stretched into the darkness, but my blurred vision saw nothing.

Damian. On his knee. With her.

I gripped the iron railing so hard my nails bit into the cold metal. Five years. I had given that monster five years of my life. I had ruined my health working double shifts to fund his lifestyle, only for him to clear out my bank account, throw me into an alley, and call me a fat, worthless convenience.

I hated him. God, I hated him so much it choked me. But worse than that, I hated the fact that his betrayal still had the power to make me flee like a coward.

I hated the way he still controlled me, the way I cared despite everything. And deep down, I hated myself for staying.

My shoulders shook as a single, angry tear escaped my eye.

“Do you always run away when the party gets interesting?”

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

It was him. The powerful stranger from the dance floor.

He leaned casually against the stone doorframe, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers. His dark masquerade mask was gone now, completely revealing his face under the moonlight.

He was breathtaking. He had a faint, rugged scar running along his jaw. His dark hair was effortlessly styled, and his piercing blue eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity.

He looked older than Damien. Late 30s, perhaps early 40s. He was a mature man who carried his immense authority like a weapon. He didn’t belong in this den of shallow nepo babies any more than I did—but he owned the space completely.

“What do you want?” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. The last thing I needed was an elite billionaire witnessing my breakdown.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “To see if you’re okay.”

face the dark gardens.

“Right,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t believe me. “Because storming out in the middle of a proposal screams ‘fine.’”

I whipped back around, my anger flaring hot. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“No,” he admitted calmly, taking a slow, predatory step toward me. “But I know the look of a woman running from a ghost.”

“Don’t try to read me,” I snapped, my voice rising.

“I’m not.” He shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting under his expensive suit jacket. “Just stating a fact.”

He was too calm, too unshaken, and it only made my anger burn hotter. “Well, maybe you should mind your own business.”

“Maybe.” His smirk grew, infuriatingly relaxed. “But you’re not making it easy to look away.”

He turned slightly, as if he were actually going to walk back inside and leave me alone. The thought of being left alone made my chest tighten in panic. Before my brain could stop me, the word ripped from my throat.

“Wait.”

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.

“Why did you follow me?” I asked, my voice quieter now, unsure.

He turned fully, his blue eyes locking on mine. “Because I wanted to.”

“Well… you shouldn’t have,” I whispered, crossing my arms over the borrowed navy gown, suddenly hyper-aware of my body. Damien's cruel insults about my body echoed in my head.

“Maybe.” He stepped closer, completely invading my personal space. The scent of expensive cologne, cedarwood, and pure dominance washed over me. “But here I am.”

I looked up at his lips, caught in a suffocating daze. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream at him, run away, or pull him down just to shatter that maddening, powerful calm.

“You don’t even know me,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

“I know enough.”

That calm confidence pushed me over the edge.

For five years, I had been the passive, quiet girl who let people break her. I was done being the victim. I wanted to destroy the memory of Damien. I wanted to feel alive.

Before I could think, before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the front of his suit, yanked him down, and kissed him.

He didn’t hesitate. A low growl vibrated in his chest as his powerful hands wrapped securely around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard frame. His control cracked instantly, matching my frantic urgency. His mouth became warm, commanding, and devastatingly demanding.

I didn’t care that this was reckless. I didn’t care that I didn't know his name, or that there was a massive age gap between us. All I cared about was the intoxicating way his hands gripped my body, completely erasing the sting of Damien’s rejection.

The kiss deepened, turning into a wild, breathless storm. I pressed closer into his heat, needing to drown in him.

When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, his blue eyes were incredibly dark, blazing with a dangerous hunger.

“You are full of surprises,” he murmured, his voice rough and deep.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing erratically. “You should have stayed inside,” I whispered, though my hands were still gripping his jacket.

“Too late for regrets now.”

He grabbed my hand and led me through a heavy side door, completely bypassing the chaos of the main ballroom. We moved swiftly through a maze of dimly lit, private hallways until he pushed open a pair of grand oak doors.

A private library.

The room was vast, warm, and silent, save for the faint, cozy fire at rhe grand fireplace. Books lined the walls, towering over the plush leather furniture scattered throughout the space.

“Do you bring all your disasters here?” I asked, my voice shaking from the sheer adrenaline flooding my veins.

“Only the interesting ones,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto my face. “Sit down before your legs give out.”

I laughed despite myself. “My legs are fine.”

“They’re shaking.”

He poured two glasses of something amber from a decanter on the side table and handed one to me without asking. I drank. It burned going down, and some of the tightness in my chest loosened.

He crossed the room and took the glass from my hand and set it on the table, and when he looked down at me there was nothing lazy about him anymore.

“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly, “and I stop.”

I couldn't reply. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. When his lips met mine a second time, the explosion was instantaneous.

Heat flared through my body like wildfire. I clasped his neck with my hands, pretending to steady him, but I was really just trying to keep myself from collapsing as my bones turned to absolute jelly.

He walked me backward until the back of my thighs hit the edge of the low chaise and then we were sinking into it together.

His lips left my mouth and dragged down my throat, finding the pulse point just below my jaw, and I exhaled hard, my head falling back.

“Still okay?” he murmured against my collarbone.

“Don’t stop,” I said. “Please don’t stop.”

He reached behind me, found the zip of Sophie’s borrowed gown,

A chill hit my skin as the fabric pool around my feet on the thick carpet. For a split second, panic seized me—I braced myself for the rejection, for him to look at my body and scoff the way Damien had.

But he didn't.

His dark eyes raked over my curves with a fierce, burning hunger that made my breath hitch. His large, warm hands slid up my thighs, tracing the lines of my skin. There was no disgust in his touch—only a raw, desperate need to possess me.

My hands found their home back at the base of his skull, my fingers tangling in his thick hair. I could feel his hurried, heavy pulse beneath my palms. He was completely affected by me.

The thin fabric of my bra was all that stood in his way, but he seemed to enjoy touching me like this. Skirting the edge before diving in.

With a low groan, his soft tongue slid into my mouth, caressing me so deeply I whimpered against his lips.

I wasn’t going to be able to stand much longer if he kept kissing me like that. I pulsed with need.

His thumbs flicked the clasp of my bra, and it popped loose, sliding down my arms. I tossed it aside, driven by a sudden wave of confidence, and reached for the buttons of his shirt. He beat me to it. I wasn’t prepared for how good he looked. He was all hard muscle twisted over his frame, a patch of hair covering his chest and arrowing down to disappear beneath his dress pants.

When he pressed our warm, naked skin together, a gasp was pulled from my throat.

Damien had spent years making me believe I was unworthy of desire. But in the arms of this powerful, commanding stranger, I felt like the only woman in the world. If this was a mistake, I didn't care. It was the sweetest revenge my soul had ever tasted.