CHAPTER TWO

BEVERLY

I recognised his voice from the numerous calls and late night chatting over the phone.

I finally saw him, my crush,the man who has been taking care of me in place of my father.

The kiss flashed through my mind again. That was the first time I ever got turned on from a kiss.

God.

I had practically climbed him. Mortifying.

My eyes slowly lifted toward him again now that panic wasn’t clouding my vision anymore.

Tall.

That was the first thing I properly noticed.

He towered over me easily, broad shoulders stretching beneath his black dress shirt like the fabric had been tailored specifically for him. The sleeves were rolled slightly past his wrists, exposing strong hands and veins that flexed every time he moved.

And his face, he was unfairly handsome.

Sharp jaw.

Dark eyes.

A straight nose that somehow made him look even more severe.

His features weren’t soft or pretty. They were the kind that looked dangerous in low lighting. The kind that belonged in expensive magazines or criminal documentaries.

There was something intimidating about him.

Cold.

Controlled.

But underneath all of that composure was something darker simmering quietly beneath the surface.

I could feel it.

And somehow, that only made him harder to look away from.

This was the man I had been crushing on for years?

My taste in men was apparently catastrophic.

His gaze settled on me again, unreadable.

“You should go to sleep.”

I almost laughed.

That was seriously what he had to say after all this?

“You don’t even seem shocked,” I muttered.

“I am shocked.”

“You hide it well.”

“I’ve had practice.”

Of course he had.

Everything about him screamed self-control.

Even now, after accidentally dragging me into what was clearly some secret sex room disaster, he still looked more composed than I did.

Meanwhile, my heart was trying to punch through my ribs.

I swallowed nervously before speaking again.

“So…” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Since we’ve finally met…”

His expression shifted slightly, almost cautious now.

“…will you tell me your name?”

Silence.

For a second, I genuinely thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then finally,

“Damian.”

The name settled somewhere deep inside me.

Damian.

Of course, his name would sound dangerous too.

I repeated it quietly in my head, testing how it felt.

Damian.

God, I was absolutely doomed.

"That will all for tonight ,Beverly. Off to your room now. " He said after minutes of standing in the hallway.

I didn't argue , just walked down the corridor to my room, closing the door behind me.

Every time I blinked, flashes of it came back all over again—his hand gripping my waist hard enough to leave warmth behind, the roughness of his mouth against mine, the low sound he made when I kissed him back.

No man had ever kissed me like that before.

Not even close.

Dylan’s kisses suddenly felt laughably juvenile in comparison. Quick pecks. Sloppy make-out sessions. Empty touching that always felt more performative than real.

But Damian…

Damian kissed like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Like he understood things about desire that I hadn’t even discovered yet.

And that realization alone was enough to make heat creep slowly across my face all over again.

Just in one night , a lot of things has happened to me. From finding out that the douche i called a boyfriend was cheating on me and blamed me for his infidelity.

Then I came home and met my crush in the most unusual way ever.

Which honestly felt deeply unfair.

Because all these years, I had imagined finally meeting him in some soft romantic way. Maybe dinner. Maybe a heartfelt conversation. Maybe him finally stepping out of the shadows after years of secrecy.

Instead, I accidentally ended up handcuffed in a hidden sex room after practically attacking him with my mouth.

Turning in my bed, I buried my face in my pillow before letting out a squeal of embarrassment.

But embarrassment wasn’t even the strongest feeling right now.

It was curiosity.

Because now that I finally knew who he was—now that he had a face and a name—everything suddenly felt more complicated.

Damian.

Even thinking it made something twist low in my stomach.

He didn’t look like the kind man I had imagined during all those late-night phone calls.

No.

He looked dangerous.

Like the type of man people crossed streets to avoid. The type who kept secrets locked behind perfectly controlled expressions and expensive suits.

And yet…

He had taken care of me for years.

Patiently.

Quietly.

Without asking for anything in return.

No matter how cold he seemed, I couldn’t forget that.

Couldn’t forget the countless nights he stayed on the phone with me while I cried after my father died. The way he remembered tiny things about me that nobody else noticed. The way he always sounded irritated whenever I skipped meals or stayed up too late studying.

He cared.

I knew he did.

Even if he hid it behind all that terrifying self-control.

I slowly sat on the edge of my bed, pulling my knees closer to my chest as my thoughts spiraled again.

I went into the bathroom to take off my clothes. In front of the mirror,I finally noticed how I looked.

My hair was out of place,like I've been playing with fifty puppies , my lips were bright red and swollen, definitely from the kiss.

I never thought I could get so turned on from a simple kiss. That had never happened to me before, I almost thought Dylan was right about me, but I guess he isn't. Jokes on him.

I pressed my fingertips lightly to my tingling lips.

The memory hit immediately.

Damian’s hand holding my legs in place around his waist.

The steady pressure of his body against mine.

The way he hadn’t hesitated at all when I kissed him back—like it wasn’t unexpected at all, like some part of him had already known exactly how that moment would unfold.

That thought made my stomach tighten. My body was pulsating.

I quickly took off my clothes and got into the shower. The cold water calmed me down a little bit before I began to have my bath.

What if I hadn't told him that I was Beverly? Would we have gone further.

Finally done in the bathroom, I changed into an oversized black nightshirt and climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up to my chest even though I wasn’t cold.

Sleep still felt impossible.

My room was dark except for the dim glow of the bedside lamp, casting soft shadows across the walls, but my mind refused to settle. Every time I closed my eyes, Damian’s face appeared instantly behind them.

Sharp eyes.

Controlled expression.

That mouth.

God.

I groaned softly and dragged a pillow over my face.

This was ridiculous.

I had spent years building this man up in my head, turning him into some impossible fantasy that no real human being could ever live up to. I thought finally meeting him would destroy the illusion.

Instead, it somehow made everything worse.

Because now he wasn’t just a voice anymore.

He was real.

Painfully real.

And terrifyingly attractive.

I turned onto my side again, staring blankly at the rain tapping softly against the large bedroom windows. The mansion felt strangely alive at night. Too quiet in some places. Too loud in others. The old walls creaked occasionally, reminding me that despite how luxurious this place looked, it still carried secrets buried deep inside it.

Secrets like hidden rooms behind locked doors.

My stomach twisted again.

What exactly had I interrupted tonight?

The thought had been circling in my head nonstop since I left Damian standing in that hallway. Whoever he had mistaken me for clearly wasn’t supposed to be there accidentally.

Which meant one very disturbing thing.

That room wasn’t a joke.

It wasn’t some weird rich-man decoration.

He actually used it.

The image alone sent heat crawling slowly up my neck again.

I buried my face deeper into the pillow with a muffled groan.

“Get a grip, Beverly.”

But honestly?

That was becoming difficult.

Because part of me couldn’t stop replaying the way he touched me. Not aggressively. Not carelessly. Confidently.

Like he was used to being obeyed.

And maybe the most embarrassing part of all was how naturally I responded to him.

I had followed him upstairs without question.

Followed commands from a man I technically had never met before tonight.

And kissed him back like I’d been waiting years to do it.

Which…

Okay.

Technically, I had.

Still.

Normal people probably didn’t react that way after accidentally ending up in a stranger’s private dungeon.

Then again, Damian had never really felt like a stranger.

That was the problem.

Long before I knew his face, he already knew me better than almost anyone else did.

He knew I hated thunderstorms but pretended not to.

Knew I stress-cleaned whenever I was overwhelmed.

Knew I skipped meals whenever I got too focused on studying.

Even little things. Tiny things nobody else paid attention to.

Like how I always slept with socks on when I was upset.

Or how I reread books instead of starting new ones whenever life felt unstable.

He remembered everything.

Every single thing.

And suddenly, lying alone in my room after finally meeting him, I realized something that made my chest tighten painfully.

Damian had watched me grow up from a distance.

Not in a creepy way.

Not exactly.

But he had always been there.

Always somewhere in the background.

Quietly making sure I was okay.

A strange ache settled in my chest at the thought.

Because after my father died, nobody stayed.

Nobody except him.

I stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before sighing softly.

Maybe that was why I fell for him so easily.

Not because he was handsome.

Not because of the voice or the mystery or the tension that practically crackled around him every time he looked at me.

But because he stayed.

When grief hollowed me out and turned me into someone difficult and angry and lonely, Damian stayed anyway.

The realization made my throat tighten unexpectedly.

I rolled over again, trying to escape my own thoughts, but they only spiralled further.

What was he doing right now?

Was he awake?

Thinking about the kiss too?

Or was he downstairs somewhere pretending none of it happened while I lay here slowly losing my mind?

Knowing him, probably the second one.

That man had enough self-control to terrify military generals.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t even look in the mirror without blushing anymore.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, mostly to distract myself, but the moment the screen lit up, my breath caught.

One unread message.

From Damian.

My heartbeat instantly sped up.

I opened it so fast I nearly dropped the phone.

'Get some sleep.'

That was it.

No apology for handcuffing me to furniture.

No explanation for the hidden room.

No acknowledgment whatsoever that we had kissed like two emotionally unstable people in a movie.

Just:

'Get some sleep.'

I stared at the message for a full ten seconds before laughing quietly in disbelief.

“Unbelievable.”

And yet despite my annoyance, warmth spread slowly through my chest anyway.

Because somehow, even now, he was still checking on me.

I bit my lower lip before typing back carefully.

'You kidnapped me into a sex dungeon tonight.'

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Which meant he was still awake, too.

For some reason, that pleased me more than it should have.

Then his reply came.

'You followed me willingly.'

My face burst into flames.

I glared at the phone like it had personally betrayed me.

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

I typed furiously.

'You gave very serial-killer instructions.'

Three dots appeared again.

'You still listened.'

I hated how much that affected me.

Heat curled low in my stomach all over again as I reread the message.

God.

This man was dangerous.

Not because of hidden rooms or dark suits or whatever secrets he clearly carried around behind those cold eyes.

But because he knew exactly how to get inside my head.

And even worse?

A part of me wanted him there.