006 – Sweetness

Lydia couldn’t breathe as the black envelope slipped from her fingers. The words on the paper swam before her eyes, their meaning growing clearer with each passing second.

Sign it. And you’ll belong to me.

A shiver ran through her body. She didn’t want to belong to him. Not like this. Not so completely.

But deep down, the thought thrilled her.

Damian was standing only a few inches away, the tension between them so thick that it practically hummed in the air. His eyes locked onto hers, fierce and unwavering, a quiet command behind every glance.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, his voice like velvet wrapped around a blade. “Sign it. Or walk away.”

She could feel the weight of his words, the pressure of his gaze, but her hand remained frozen. How had she gotten here? A week ago, she never could have imagined being in a situation like this. Her life had been safe, predictable. Now, she was standing at the edge of something dark and all-consuming, unable to see the bottom.

Damian’s fingers brushed her shoulder lightly, breaking her reverie. His touch was always careful, almost as if he knew the effect it would have on her—how it made her pulse race, her skin heat, her thoughts scatter.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing her ear. “I can feel it.”

Her pulse quickened, her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else—a dangerous mix of desire and uncertainty—that was keeping her from moving. But the longer she stood there, the more she felt herself falling under his spell.

Damian was never just about the physical. It wasn’t just the way he looked at her, or the way he touched her. It was how he got under her skin, how he made her second-guess everything she thought she knew about herself. She’d walked into his world thinking she could control the narrative. Now, it was clear—she wasn’t in control at all.

He stepped back, his eyes searching hers with that insatiable hunger. There was something new in his gaze now—a tenderness, maybe? A strange flicker of something that wasn’t entirely cold. But Lydia didn’t trust it. Not yet.

She swallowed, her voice a little shaky as she spoke. “What happens if I sign it?”

His smile was slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring the moment. “You’ll get everything you’ve ever wanted. Or everything you’re too afraid to admit.”

The temptation was there, simmering just beneath the surface. But she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. He was dangerous, she knew that. He was controlling, manipulative—but somehow, he wasn’t entirely the villain. Not in the way she expected.

“Are you trying to break me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Damian stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to gently lift her chin, tilting her face to meet his. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to show you who you really are.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut.

Who she really was. Was she so lost in the idea of him, of them, that she didn’t even know who she had been before him? Before this twisted, intoxicating thing between them had started?

Lydia’s hand trembled again, but this time, she didn’t hesitate. She reached for the pen. She couldn’t stop herself.

Her fingers curled around it, and for the first time, she truly wondered if she was ready to sign away her autonomy. Was she ready to give him this power over her? This control?

But just as the pen hovered above the paper, there was a knock at the door.

The moment shattered.

Lydia looked up sharply, her heart pounding in her chest. Damian’s face darkened immediately, a quick flicker of annoyance crossing his features.

“Stay here,” he said softly, but there was a steel edge to his voice that made it clear this wasn’t a request.

Without waiting for her to respond, he walked towards the door and opened it. The man standing there was unfamiliar, tall with sharp features that seemed out of place in the plush surroundings of Damian’s penthouse.

“Is this a bad time?” the man asked, his voice cold, professional.

Damian’s expression remained unchanged. “It’s never a bad time. Come in.”

Lydia stayed frozen in place, her heart still racing. The shift in the atmosphere was immediate. The warmth between her and Damian had evaporated, replaced by a palpable tension that made her skin prickle. She tried to listen to their conversation, but the voices were too low, too guarded.

Her mind raced. Who was this man?

After a few minutes, Damian returned to her, his expression unreadable, his usual confidence now tinged with something more guarded.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said, his tone brokering no argument. “Come on, let me show you something.”

Before she could protest, he guided her through the penthouse and into a room at the back of the apartment. It was darker here, the lights dimmer, but Lydia felt an undeniable pull to follow him.

He turned to her, a small, dangerous smile on his lips. “You think you’re ready to understand me?” he asked, his voice like a warning. “To understand what this is?”

She shook her head, the words caught in her throat.

“No,” she said finally. “I’m not ready.”

Damian’s eyes glinted with something darker now. “You will be.”

He stepped closer, the heat of his body seeping into hers. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt like they were both on the edge of something monumental. And she didn’t know if she was ready to jump—but she could feel herself falling.

His lips were on hers before she could react, soft and possessive. The kiss was a strange mix of sweetness and desperation, the kind that made her knees weak, that sent a pulse of heat straight to her core. It wasn’t gentle this time. It was raw. And as he deepened it, as his tongue slid against hers, she couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

He pulled back slowly, his eyes burning into hers. “Now you understand,” he whispered.

Before she could speak, he pressed a finger to her lips. “You’ll want more. And I’ll make sure you get it.”

The doorbell rang again, but this time, there was no retreat. Damian’s eyes flicked toward the door, a warning in his gaze. “Stay here,” he repeated, though the edge of his voice betrayed his growing frustration.

Lydia’s mind raced, her body still tingling from the kiss. But one thought burned brightly in her mind:

This is only the beginning.

Lydia stood rooted in place, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, her lips tingling from the ghost of Damian’s touch. The air between them had thickened, charged with an undeniable magnetism. Yet, even as her body screamed for more, her mind couldn’t keep up.

What was happening to her? Was this really her life now? The world of power, control, and temptation that Damian lived in was a place she never imagined she’d step into. But every touch, every word he whispered to her, made her feel like she was on the verge of something extraordinary—and dangerous.

The doorbell rang again, louder this time, and Lydia’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it remained lodged there.

Damian’s expression darkened when he glanced at the door. The change in his demeanor was subtle but sharp—an undercurrent of something more dangerous running beneath his cool exterior. He had become a stranger in those moments, someone completely different from the man who had just kissed her senseless.

“Stay here,” he repeated, but this time it was more than a command; it was a warning.

Lydia didn’t speak as he turned and stalked toward the door, his presence so commanding that she couldn’t look away. For a moment, she felt as if she were frozen, caught in the web of his every move, every glance.

The voices outside were muffled, but she could hear the tension rising. One voice was familiar, the other cold and professional—like the man from before.

Her thoughts swirled, but she didn’t dare make a sound. What was Damian doing? And why had he pulled away so suddenly?

She moved closer to the door, standing just out of view, her breath shallow as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Every instinct inside her screamed to listen, to understand—but her feet remained firmly planted, afraid of what she might uncover.

Then the voices stopped.

A long silence stretched, and Lydia’s curiosity burned hotter than ever. She felt the need to understand, to peel back the layers of Damian’s world that he kept so carefully hidden.

The door opened just a crack, and Damian stepped inside again, his expression carefully neutral. The moment their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them. He was closing off, retreating behind that cold mask he wore so well.

Lydia opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand, cutting her off before she could say anything.

“I need you to trust me,” Damian said, his voice low, barely a whisper. “This is bigger than both of us.”

The words hit her like a wave, crashing over her, but she could barely process them. The heat of his body had only moments before set her skin alight, and now his words felt like an icy splash of water, dousing the fire that had been building between them.

Lydia nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure she trusted herself, let alone him. Her pulse still raced, her chest tight. Was this the moment she should walk away? Was she capable of turning her back on him after everything they’d shared?

But then Damian was in front of her again, his presence overwhelming, his hand gently cupping her face, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes were darker now, an unreadable storm swirling in their depths.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, his thumb grazing the curve of her cheek. “But you’re here now. And that means you’re already mine.”

His words sent a thrill through her, a mixture of excitement and fear. What did it mean, exactly, to be his? She had signed the contract, yes, but she still hadn’t fully grasped the gravity of what she’d just agreed to. Each commandment was more than just a rule—it was a game. A dangerous game.

Lydia’s throat went dry as she searched his face, looking for any hint of vulnerability, any shred of the man she thought she might understand. But all she found was that same dangerous, magnetic confidence.

“You really think I belong to you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, more from uncertainty than defiance.

Damian’s lips curled into a slow, teasing smile. “You signed the contract, didn’t you?” He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. “And once you sign your name, there’s no going back. But you’ll learn to crave it. To crave me.”

The challenge in his tone was unmistakable, but there was something else beneath it. Something softer, buried deep within. She didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or her. Either way, the complexity of his words left her breathless.

Before she could respond, his lips found hers again. The kiss was deep, demanding, but this time it wasn’t just about physical pleasure. This kiss was about claiming. About marking her. And as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t deny how it made her feel—wanted, needed, cherished, and yet utterly lost.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads pressed together. Damian’s eyes were stormy, like he was battling with himself.

Lydia’s heart was still hammering in her chest. She was falling deeper into this, further into the tangled mess of him, even though she knew she was playing with fire.

“Damian,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What are you hiding from me?”

His jaw tightened at the question, his hand dropping from her face. He took a step back, the distance between them suddenly cold and uncomfortable.

“Some things are better left unknown,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Some things… you’ll never understand. Not yet.”

Lydia wanted to argue. She wanted to demand the truth. But something about his words silenced her. Maybe it was the way his voice broke when he said them, or the way his eyes refused to meet hers. But the sense that something much darker lurked beneath the surface was growing, and the pull of his world was stronger than ever.

Before she could speak again, the doorbell rang for the third time.

Damian’s expression hardened again, his body stiffening, as though he were preparing for something. He glanced toward the door and then back at her.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice clipped. “Don’t move.”

Lydia nodded silently, though she was anything but still. She had crossed a line, signed away her freedom, and now there was no turning back.

As Damian walked toward the door, Lydia felt a chill settle in her bones. She wasn’t just standing on the edge of something dark—she was already deep within it, and the deeper she went, the harder it would be to climb out.

Damian opened the door to reveal a man in a tailored suit, his face impassive but unmistakably familiar. His eyes scanned the room before settling on Lydia. There was something about him—something dangerous.

Damian’s voice was cold as he spoke. “What do you want?”

The man stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Lydia. “I’m here for her.”