Chapter 10: Turn Around Lyra

She didn't need to look up to know who had just entered. She could feel him. The air itself seemed to change, becoming heavier, more charged.

"Good morning." Damien's voice was smooth, controlled. "Sorry I'm late. Conference call with Tokyo."

"Damien!" Isabelle brightened. "Come, sit. Have some breakfast."

Lyra kept her eyes fixed on her plate as he moved around the table.

Please don't sit near me. Please don't....

He pulled out the chair directly across from her and sat down.

Of course he did.

She could feel his eyes on her face, could sense him studying her even as he greeted the others and accepted coffee from the staff.

"Sleep well, Lyra?" His voice was casual. Friendly, even.

But there was something underneath it. Something dark and knowing that made her skin prickle with awareness.

She forced herself to look up and immediately regretted it.

He was devastating in a black button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his jaw clean-shaven. He looked every inch the powerful billionaire....controlled, commanding, untouchable.

Except his eyes.

His eyes were locked on her with an intensity that made her forget how to breathe.

"Fine," she managed. "I slept fine."

One dark eyebrow arched slightly. "Really? You look tired."

Her cheeks heated. "The flight from Paris was long."

"Hmm." His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered there for a heartbeat too long, then returned to her eyes. "You should rest more. Take care of yourself."

Under the table, something brushed against her foot.

Lyra jerked slightly, her fork clattering against her plate.

His foot. His foot was touching hers.

She tried to pull away, but he followed, his shoe sliding deliberately along the inside of her ankle. Slowly. Intimately.

"Are you alright, dear?" Isabelle asked, concerned.

"Yes! Sorry. Just... clumsy." Lyra grabbed her water glass and took a long drink, trying to steady herself.

Damien's lips curved into the faintest smile as he reached for the coffee pot.

Across the table, Karla was watching them both with sharp, calculating eyes.

"Damien," she said brightly, leaning forward just enough to emphasize her cleavage. "I was hoping you could show me around the estate later. Since I'm going to be living here now, I should learn my way around. And I'd love to hear about the family business. Father says you've built quite an empire."

"I'm busy today." Damien didn't even look at her. His eyes remained fixed on Lyra. "Perhaps another time."

Karla's smile tightened. "Of course. I understand you're a very important man."

"Victor," Damien said, still not breaking eye contact with Lyra. "I assume you're planning a family meeting to discuss the... situation?"

"This afternoon," Victor confirmed. "Two o'clock in my study. We need to discuss how we're moving forward. Legal matters, public statements, the company.....there's a lot to address."

"Good." Damien finally looked away from Lyra to address his father. "The sooner we establish how things stand, the better."

But his foot was still pressed against Lyra's ankle under the table. Still moving. Slowly. Deliberately.

She tried to pull away again, but there was nowhere to go. And the worst part...the absolutely mortifying part....was that her body was responding.

Heat was pooling between her thighs. Her nipples were hardening against her bra. Her breathing was becoming shallow.

From a foot touching her ankle.

What the hell was wrong with her?

"Lyra, you're barely eating," Isabelle noted with concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm just not very hungry." Lyra set down her fork, giving up the pretense. "Actually, if you'll all excuse me, I think I need some air."

She pushed back her chair quickly, desperate to escape.

"Lyra." Damien's voice stopped her. "Before you go, could I speak with you? About the gallery. There are some acquisitions we need to discuss."

No. No, no, no.

"Can't it wait?" She didn't look at him. "I'm not feeling well."

"It's urgent." He stood smoothly. "It'll only take a moment. We can talk in the library."

She couldn't refuse. Not without looking suspicious. Not without everyone asking questions.

"Of course," she said stiffly.

She felt everyone's eyes on them as they left the dining room together.

***

The library was on the opposite wing of the house, down a long hallway lined with family portraits.

Lyra walked quickly, trying to maintain distance between them. But she could hear him behind her....the measured footsteps, the controlled breathing.

He was always so controlled.

Except yesterday. Yesterday, his hand had been shaking when he touched her.

She pushed open the library door and stepped inside, immediately moving toward the windows on the far side of the room.

Distance. She needed distance.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Locked.

She heard the deadbolt slide home and her heart kicked into overdrive.

"There's no acquisition to discuss, is there?" Her voice came out shakier than she wanted.

"No."

She closed her eyes. "Then why...."

"Turn around, Lyra."

It wasn't a request.

Slowly, she turned to face him.

He was leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark and intense. Watching her like a predator watches prey.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"I think you know what I want." He pushed off the door and started walking toward her. Slowly. "The question is, how long are you going to keep pretending you don't want it too?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She backed up until her hips hit the windowsill. Nowhere left to go.

"No?" He stopped inches away from her, so close she could smell his cologne. Clean. Masculine. Intoxicating. "Then why are you trembling?"

"I'm not...."

He reached out and trailed one finger down her arm. The lightest touch. But it made her gasp.

"Why is your pulse racing?" His finger moved to her wrist, pressing against the frantic beat there. "Why are your pupils dilated?"

She couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.

"You were thinking about me last night, weren't you?" His voice dropped lower, became almost hypnotic. "After you ran to your room. After you locked your door."

"How...." She couldn't finish the question.

"I know you, Lyra." His hand moved from her wrist to her face, cupping her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. "I know everything about you."

She should push him away. Should tell him to stop. Should run.

But she was frozen, caught between terror and desire so intense it hurt.

"You were in the shower," he continued, his eyes locked on hers. "Hot water streaming over your body. And you touched yourself. Didn't you?"