7. Temptation

Damien's POV

Something changed after that moment on the plane.

I don't even know what to call it. Not a kiss. Not a touch. Just—charged air and a breath held too long. But whatever it was, it carved something sharp into the quiet between us, something that lingered like heat trapped beneath skin.

And I can’t stop thinking about it.

Killian Reeve is a man. That much is obvious. But this… attraction? It doesn’t feel like it’s about men or women. It feels like it’s just him. And that’s not a thought I’m used to entertaining, especially not on diplomatic trips where nuclear energy and international weapons agreements are the agenda—not my libido.

I straighten the cuffs of my suit as the jet begins its descent into Valeria. Through the sleek windows, the sprawling city shimmers below like molten glass. I press the thought of Killian out of my head, or try to.

“You’ll meet President Roul tomorrow being Friday,” Richard says beside me, flipping through the digital itinerary on his tablet. “Anita will brief you before then.”

“Where are we staying?” I ask, without looking up.

“A private suite at the Meridian Summit Hotel,” Richard replies. “Security already swept the premises. Anita triple-checked the staff.”

“And Killian?”

“He’ll be in the suite next to yours.”

I raise a brow.

Richard hesitates. “Correction—he’ll be sharing the suite.”

“Why?”

He clears his throat. “His protection detail protocol. Too many unknowns on the Valerian side, and too many high-value eyes on you. Reeve insisted on close proximity.”

Of course he did.

I nod slowly, biting the inside of my cheek. “Let’s hope he remembers where the line is.”

“Sir?”

“Nothing.”

The jet touches down with a soft jolt, and I exhale.

---

Outside the airport, Valeria greets us with warm sunlight, sharp architecture, and an intimidating military presence. Our convoy waits at the edge of the tarmac, black-armored and tinted.

Killian steps out of the jet a second after me, black shirt rolled to his forearms, firearm holstered but unmistakably present. He scans the airfield like it’s wired to explode.

“Something amusing you?” I ask, eyeing the way his mouth twitches upward.

“No, sir,” Killian says. “Just clocking exits.”

Richard gestures toward the waiting car. “Anita’s already at the hotel. She asked to brief you before the meeting.”

Killian slides into the seat beside me. His thigh brushes mine for a second too long. My pulse spikes.

---

The suite is extravagant, draped in white marble, soft grays, and tall glass windows that overlook the skyline. But my eyes don’t catch on the furniture. They catch on Anita Farr—standing in front of the panoramic view, heels sharp, tablet in hand, and a grin blooming as soon as Killian walks in.

“Well, well,” she says. “I was wondering when they’d send the most handsome *and* dangerous man on this team.”

Killian barely blinks. “Afraid I’m just dangerous.”

She laughs, too slowly, tilting her head. “You keep talking like that, I’ll end up distracted mid-briefing.”

“Then I’ll keep quiet,” he replies flatly.

I suppress a smirk. Poor woman didn’t stand a chance.

“Anita,” I cut in, “the briefing?”

She spins back to me, all business in a second. “Quick recap. You’re meeting with President Roul of Virelia. The topic: finalizing the mutual security and energy trade pact.”

“And the details?”

“They supply us with restricted access to their nuclear fusion technology—clean, high-output energy that could power half of Ameria’s cities and military installations for decades. In addition, we gain access to their Skarnite deposits.”

“Skarnite,” I repeat. “The rare mineral used in superconductors, quantum processors, stealth plating.”

“Exactly. And in return, we provide them with elite weapons systems, long-range artillery, and a limited troop deployment to secure their eastern border. They’ve had trouble with militant incursions from the fragmented Red Crescent Zone.”

“So, we gain energy independence, revolutionize manufacturing, and establish a presence in a strategic region.”

She nods. “The fusion tech could decentralize our grid, cut costs, reduce blackouts, and stabilize public unrest. And Skarnite? It’s the future. We’d lead the next generation of electronics.”

“And militarily?”

“Ameria gets a foothold in neutral territory. Eyes on black market trade. Control of insurgent routes. And, most importantly—rival nations stay out.”

I exhale slowly. “Good.”

“I’ll send a summary to your device,” she says, giving Killian a final once-over as she passes. “And if you need me tonight—don’t hesitate.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

---

The suite has two bedrooms and a shared lounge between them. But it’s not nearly wide enough to erase the earlier tension from the plane. Especially not when Killian sets his duffel down on the bed across from mine.

I look at him.

He looks at me.

“We should talk,” I say.

He nods, slowly. “Agreed.”

There’s a stillness between us that feels louder than it should.

“What happened on the plane,” I begin, “can’t happen again.”

“Understood.”

“I’m your principal. You’re my protector. That relationship doesn’t allow for… blurring.”

Killian doesn’t blink. “I’m not here for blurred lines, Mr. President.”

“Good,” I say, too quickly.

But the silence that follows doesn’t feel like agreement. It feels like heat simmering beneath the surface, unsaid things dragging across skin.

“You don’t have to worry,” Killian says, voice quiet but not soft. “Whatever you're feeling… it won't get in the way of me doing my job.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m feeling?”

He meets my gaze then. Fully. Boldly. “Temptation.”

The air in the room tightens like a wire drawn taut.

“I’m not tempted,” I lie.

He cocks his head. “That so?”

“I’ve gone longer than this without being touched.”

“That’s not the same as not wanting it.”

My breath stalls in my throat.

“This isn’t a game,” I say.

“Then stop playing,” he answers.

And then, just like that, he turns and walks into his room, closing the door behind him.

Leaving me with my own heartbeat, pounding far too loud in the quiet.