CHAPTER 9: RUINED FOR ANYONE ELSE

The morning we left for Boston, I told myself the trip was about work. I needed to prove I belonged at Hart Group for reasons beyond the night we had shared. Still, when Damian opened the passenger door for me, my heart reacted as if the gesture meant something.

"You could have sent a driver," I said, settling my bag at my feet.

"I could have."

"But you came yourself."

His eyes met mine. "Would you rather I had not?"

"I would rather know what you want from me."

"Then ask me when you are ready to hear the answer."

We stopped once on the drive. Damian returned with coffee and a warm pastry from the bakery counter. He placed them beside me without a word.

"You remembered," I said.

"I remember what matters to you."

For the first time, I wondered whether the man who controlled entire boardrooms could remember a small preference without expecting anything back.

By noon, we were inside the Boston conference room. I had prepared the campaign presentation carefully, but the senior executives brought back every doubt. My rent was overdue, and my mother still needed her surgery deposit. I could not afford to be here because a powerful man wanted me.

One client questioned the budget. Another said the campaign lacked a clear identity. I took a breath, turned to the screen, and explained why the plan needed an emotional message instead of another list of product features. I showed how we could reach younger customers without losing the brand identity.

When I finished, the room fell quiet.

Damian leaned back, his expression unreadable. "That is the strategy we should have been discussing from the beginning."

His approval mattered because I had earned it.

After the meeting, he walked beside me toward the elevators.

"You were good in there," he said.

"I was prepared."

"You were more than prepared."

"Do not praise me just because you want me to like you."

"I want you to like me for reasons you choose yourself."

I kept walking, afraid my answer would reveal too much.

Rain hammered the hotel windows when we arrived. Our return flight had been delayed until morning, and the front desk confirmed that the company reservation held one suite. Damian asked whether another room had opened. The receptionist checked, then shook her head.

"I am sorry, Mr. Hart. We are fully booked tonight."

Outside the elevator, Damian turned to me. "One suite. One bedroom. One bed. You can have it. I will sleep in the sitting room."

"I can take the sofa."

"No." His voice was firm, then softened. "You will take the bed. If you want me beside you, tell me. If you do not, I will stay out here."

"You always sound as if you expect people to obey you."

"Usually, they do." His gaze held mine. "But you are not everyone. I want you to choose me because you want me, not because I can make your life difficult."

His possessiveness was unmistakable, but he was leaving the decision in my hands.

"And if I choose you?" I asked.

"Then do not expect me to pretend I want less than all of you."

I searched his face for a hidden bargain that would turn tenderness into debt. I found fierce desire and unexpected patience.

"What if I want you and still do not know how to trust you?"

"Then we begin there. I will not ask you to promise more than you can give."

I crossed the room and touched his jaw. He went still, letting me decide how close we would be.

"Tell me to stop," I whispered.

"I will, if you ask me to."

I kissed him first.

For one heartbeat, he did not move. Then his hand settled at my waist, and he kissed me with a tenderness that made my defenses feel useless. I gripped his shirt, afraid to remember every reason I should be careful.

When I pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. Neither of us spoke. His breathing was uneven, and his eyes searched my face as if he was giving me one last chance to change my mind.

"You are ruining me for anyone else," I whispered.

His gaze held mine, fierce and unguarded. "Good. Stay ruined for me."

Then my phone rang.

The number belonged to the bakery in Seabrook. I answered so quickly I nearly dropped it.

"Elena?" A woman from the bakery sounded frightened. "Your mother became dizzy and short of breath. We called an ambulance."

I sat upright. "I spoke to her earlier. She said she was fine."

"She tried to stand, then she collapsed. The paramedics are taking her to the hospital now."

The room tilted. Damian caught my arm before I could fall.

"Which hospital?" I demanded. The woman gave me the name, and I repeated it through tears. "Tell her I am coming. Please, tell her I am coming."

My mother was in an ambulance, and home was hours away in Maine. The rain that had delayed our flight suddenly felt like a wall between us.

Damian pulled me against his chest. I clutched his shirt and tried to breathe, but terror kept closing around my throat.

"Listen to me, Elena. I am getting you to Seabrook."

"What if we are too late?" My voice broke. "I cannot lose her."

"Then I will be beside you when you walk through that hospital door. I am driving tonight. You will not face this alone."

I gripped his hand. "Please get me home tonight."

His fingers closed around mine. "Hold on to me, Elena. I have you now."

My phone lit up again. The hospital.

I answered, barely able to speak. "Is my mother all right?"

A man paused before replying. "Your mother has taken a turn for the worse. You need to come as soon as possible."

My heart stopped.

"Please hurry, Elena," he said. "We are not sure how much time she has left tonight."