This isn't correct, she thought, her hold on the glass tightening. Damon's desire to Lillian wasn't only physical; it was more like a shift, a change in the air that Seraphina couldn't ignore. Lillian was turning into a danger Seraphina could no longer deny. The woman was lovely and confident; now, it appeared she was sliding under Damon's skin in ways Seraphina could not control. A real smile filling her face, her breath hitched as she watched Lillian chuckle at something Knox had said. Knox's hand brushing against her waist as he leaned in was all too much. Turning fast and with a hardened expression, Seraphina looked for an ally's solace. Her gaze roamed the room until they found one guy she trusted, Jaxon Thornfield, a man with ties and loyalties extending well beyond what most people knew. She had no time to lose. Seraphina's voice fell to a whisper as she walked towards him, her heels tapping hard on the marble. This has to be fixed right away. We have to correct this. At th
Damon Standing by the bar, his back straight and strong jawline precisely positioned under the overhead lights. Though his posture shouted strength, his look as it fixed on her revealed something more. It was the fervour. The same look he had given her in their past: deadly, demanding, impossible to ignore. Lillian's heart leapt. She had hoped the distance between them would lessen the impact he had on her, but seeing him now, so near, only made the old feelings rise. The draw. The recollections. The turmoil that came after them both. She kept looking. She was unable to. Watching her, Damon narrowed his gaze and his face became inscrutable. Lillian drew a breath and gathered herself. She was no longer the lady who had allowed him to control her life. She was no longer that naive girl trapped in the undertow of his charm and power. A well-meaning server walked by and a glass of champagne materialised in her palm. Grounding her, she sipped and felt the cool liquid slide down her th
"You need to stop chasing her," Jaxon said calmly and deliberately. He was neither begging nor asking. It was a command. Damon's jaw clenched and his hold on the whisky glass became tighter until the crystal looked about to shatter under his touch. He laughed softly, nearly undetectable, with a sour undertone. Since when do you command me? Though terse, Damon’s statements clearly conveyed a challenge. He straightened up straighter, looking at Jaxon as though he were an adversary. Jaxon's face remained unchanged. The action seemed casual, as if he didn't sense the tension growing between them, so he just sipped his drink slowly. I'm not telling you what to do. I'm warning you. His gaze shifted from Lillian back to Damon, his voice dropping a little. She is no longer yours. The words struck Damon hard, raw and unrelenting. His breath caught and for the briefest time he believed he could lose control. But he would not. He never done that. Not in front of anybody. Meeting Jaxon's sta
"I think you've just outmanoeuvred one of the most ruthless CEOs in the industry," one of the men said, his voice full with admiration. Lillian looked at him with a cold composure. Her voice was strong, like the steel under her polished surface, "I'm not here to play fair." She need not justify herself to them. She had acted; now it was time to reap the rewards of her effort. Her assistant moved forward with the last paper, verifying the agreement was formally hers as the whispers got louder. Lillian wasted no time. Grabbing the paper, she signed it with a flourish and then looked at her assistant, turning with a gaze that contained a thousand meanings. Her voice tinged with something unspoken, she murmured, "Send Blackwood my regards." Her steely, determined gaze said all she intended to express. This was her triumph not only over the business but also over Damon Blackwood personally. Damon Blackwood's eyes darted over the article's headlines as he slammed the whisky glass down o
Damon leaned forward in his high-rise office, fingertips skimming the thorough report before him. The figures were sharp, too exact to overlook. His thoughts racing, he looked over the numbers again. Lillian Ashford Too subtly, she had been moving in silence; now her plan was laid out naked before him. He had always knew she was a force to be reckoned with, but this? This was conflict. Reading the numbers, purchases, stock manipulations, and an aggressive takeover he had never seen coming caused his jaw to tighten. She was using his own tactics against him effortlessly. This was personal, not only a corporate move. In his head, he could nearly hear her voice, frigid and analytical. "How dare she?" he grumbled, mostly to himself rather than anybody else present. The report's margins were gripped by his fist, crumpling the paper under his touch. This was a statement, not only a corporate one. Lillian was after him. He didn't know what game she was playing, but one thing was obvious:
Lillian, this is not about love. It comes down to obligation. Her father spoke with a hard, relentless quality. Edward Ashford was a man fashioned from stone, his presence an immobile force in the upper society of New York. His slicked back salt-and-pepper hair, his perfect tailored suit, a picture of control and expectation. Lillian's emerald-green eyes flicked up to meet his sight. And what about satisfaction? A scorn. A contemptuous sweep of his hand. You have wasted too much time believing in illogical dreams. Married to Damon Blackwood guarantees our legacy. Only that counts. Blackwood, Damon Just the name caused her to shiver involuntarily. Everyone in the city knew him, the cold, merciless billionaire who used iron fists to build his empire. Their participation had been planned for years, whispered in elite social circles, but he had never once acknowledged her presence. just a contract; nothing more. No flowers, no proposals, no softly worded pledges. Just a legal agreemen
Lillian pushed her expression to appear calm even as her breath stopped. She told herself; you knew this was your place. a wife named merely in title. Before she went another step, the whispering began. See her here. hopeless. She is still fixated on Mrs. Ashford, as though that defines something. "His mistress practically drapes herself over him," says one. With her nails rubbing across the delicate stem, Lillian tightened her hold on her champagne glass. Her mother had instructed her when she was small, never let them know your suffering, Lillian; a calm inhale stabilised her. Never forget to wear your crown. Calling every last bit of control, she raised her chin and marched farther within. A waiter approached, and she grabbed a fresh glass of champagne, sipping deliberately as though the conversation around her went under her awareness. At last Damon spun. Their glances crossed the room; his were dark as a midnight storm, inscrutable. Something glowed in their depths for a
She turned to check the time. 2:47 a.m. Damon hadn't arrived back at home. She felt a stinging pang in her chest, but she pushed herself to consciously breath gently. It was not novel. Like last night, he had spent many evenings away. But tonight, after everything, the whispers, the looks, the humiliation, his absence felt different. It came across as a statement. On the nightstand, her phone buzzed, its vibration breaking through the quiet. She reached for it with doubtful fingers. one note from Vanessa. Look at Seraphina's post. dread knotted low in her gut. Her pulse pounding against her ribs, her hands became sweaty as she swiped open the app. The screen loaded slowly, but when it did, each breath she had left left one sharp exhale. Her most recent piece was a darkly lit, closely close picture. A woman's bare back against silk sheets, a masculine hand resting possessively on her hip. Lillian's blood ran cold. The caption beside it said: Tonight will live in memory. Her f
Damon leaned forward in his high-rise office, fingertips skimming the thorough report before him. The figures were sharp, too exact to overlook. His thoughts racing, he looked over the numbers again. Lillian Ashford Too subtly, she had been moving in silence; now her plan was laid out naked before him. He had always knew she was a force to be reckoned with, but this? This was conflict. Reading the numbers, purchases, stock manipulations, and an aggressive takeover he had never seen coming caused his jaw to tighten. She was using his own tactics against him effortlessly. This was personal, not only a corporate move. In his head, he could nearly hear her voice, frigid and analytical. "How dare she?" he grumbled, mostly to himself rather than anybody else present. The report's margins were gripped by his fist, crumpling the paper under his touch. This was a statement, not only a corporate one. Lillian was after him. He didn't know what game she was playing, but one thing was obvious:
"I think you've just outmanoeuvred one of the most ruthless CEOs in the industry," one of the men said, his voice full with admiration. Lillian looked at him with a cold composure. Her voice was strong, like the steel under her polished surface, "I'm not here to play fair." She need not justify herself to them. She had acted; now it was time to reap the rewards of her effort. Her assistant moved forward with the last paper, verifying the agreement was formally hers as the whispers got louder. Lillian wasted no time. Grabbing the paper, she signed it with a flourish and then looked at her assistant, turning with a gaze that contained a thousand meanings. Her voice tinged with something unspoken, she murmured, "Send Blackwood my regards." Her steely, determined gaze said all she intended to express. This was her triumph not only over the business but also over Damon Blackwood personally. Damon Blackwood's eyes darted over the article's headlines as he slammed the whisky glass down o
"You need to stop chasing her," Jaxon said calmly and deliberately. He was neither begging nor asking. It was a command. Damon's jaw clenched and his hold on the whisky glass became tighter until the crystal looked about to shatter under his touch. He laughed softly, nearly undetectable, with a sour undertone. Since when do you command me? Though terse, Damon’s statements clearly conveyed a challenge. He straightened up straighter, looking at Jaxon as though he were an adversary. Jaxon's face remained unchanged. The action seemed casual, as if he didn't sense the tension growing between them, so he just sipped his drink slowly. I'm not telling you what to do. I'm warning you. His gaze shifted from Lillian back to Damon, his voice dropping a little. She is no longer yours. The words struck Damon hard, raw and unrelenting. His breath caught and for the briefest time he believed he could lose control. But he would not. He never done that. Not in front of anybody. Meeting Jaxon's sta
Damon Standing by the bar, his back straight and strong jawline precisely positioned under the overhead lights. Though his posture shouted strength, his look as it fixed on her revealed something more. It was the fervour. The same look he had given her in their past: deadly, demanding, impossible to ignore. Lillian's heart leapt. She had hoped the distance between them would lessen the impact he had on her, but seeing him now, so near, only made the old feelings rise. The draw. The recollections. The turmoil that came after them both. She kept looking. She was unable to. Watching her, Damon narrowed his gaze and his face became inscrutable. Lillian drew a breath and gathered herself. She was no longer the lady who had allowed him to control her life. She was no longer that naive girl trapped in the undertow of his charm and power. A well-meaning server walked by and a glass of champagne materialised in her palm. Grounding her, she sipped and felt the cool liquid slide down her th
This isn't correct, she thought, her hold on the glass tightening. Damon's desire to Lillian wasn't only physical; it was more like a shift, a change in the air that Seraphina couldn't ignore. Lillian was turning into a danger Seraphina could no longer deny. The woman was lovely and confident; now, it appeared she was sliding under Damon's skin in ways Seraphina could not control. A real smile filling her face, her breath hitched as she watched Lillian chuckle at something Knox had said. Knox's hand brushing against her waist as he leaned in was all too much. Turning fast and with a hardened expression, Seraphina looked for an ally's solace. Her gaze roamed the room until they found one guy she trusted, Jaxon Thornfield, a man with ties and loyalties extending well beyond what most people knew. She had no time to lose. Seraphina's voice fell to a whisper as she walked towards him, her heels tapping hard on the marble. This has to be fixed right away. We have to correct this. At th
"Even more breathtaking up close," Knox remarked, his voice strong enough for Damon to hear. The liquid within had long since forgotten, hence Damon's hold on his whisky glass grew tighter. The words' sound hurt; his chest tightened as he watched every motion between them. He had knew Lillian was interesting. But Knox's remarks and the way he held her attention so naturally caused something in Damon crack. Anger was bubbling under the surface, ready to explode. He understood how this game operated. Always in charge, always the one who decided the terms, he had played it many times. But now, with Lillian, everything was changing. Though she wasn't his to control, the idea of losing her to someone, someone like Knox, seemed a betrayal, a hurt that would last forever. He ought to have been the one to cause her to grin like that. He ought to have been the one to notice that sparkle in her eyes. But he wasn't. It was Knox Vandermeer. Lillian looked up to see Damon staring at her from
"Lillian," Damon whispered under his breath, his voice almost inaudible among the gala's murmuring. Yet she remained still. She didn't even blink. His voice seemed to be just another sound in the symphony of conversation surrounding her. A voice next to him shattered the stillness. "She's out of your reach now," he said. Standing only a few steps away, Jaxon Thornfield had his hands casually folded behind his back. Damon's jaw tightened. "I can manage her," he murmured, the words feeling harsh on his mouth. He was unsure if he was convincing Jaxon, himself, or the picture of Lillian in front of him. Could you? Jaxon enquired, his voice a soft provocation. Damon was silent. His attention stayed on Lillian, whose head was somewhat askew as she chuckled at something a man next to her said. Unlike the woman he had known, her laugh was warm, vibrant, and full of life. So different from the lady who previously chuckled just for him. Will she remember you back? Jaxon pushed, his voice
Jaxon said, "You know," his voice cutting through his musings. I've never seen her like this before. She has always been able, but now? Now she is in a class of her own. Damon looked at him, unaware he had been gazing at her. His gaze returned to Lillian, observing her chuckle at something a high-ranking official had said. Her beauty wasn't the only thing that captivated him. It was how simply she ruled every place she walked into. Every movement was intentional. Every syllable was a deliberate action. Damon grumbled under his breath that she had always been able, but the comments seemed empty, far too feeble for the lady in front of him. You didn't see what I saw back then, right? Jaxon went on, his eyes sparkling with something resembling amusement. She was always more than you thought. Damon's heart thudded as Lillian's eyes caught his for a brief second before she turned back to the discussion, expertly reclaiming her dominant position. Their relationship, whatever it had been
"Damon," a voice interrupted his daydreaming and he blinked. Beside him, Jaxon Thornfield stood, his gaze also on Lillian. You appear to be as fascinated as everyone else. Damon remained silent, his mouth clenching as he kept staring at Lillian. She had not yet seen him, but it was just a question of time. She was now too unstoppable, too powerful. Lillian's eyes ran over the throng as she crossed the floor; for the briefest time, she looked at Damon. Damon's heart raced. For a fleeting second, he believed he saw something, perhaps familiarity or warmth, but it disappeared very immediately. As though he were just another face in the throng, she turned away without a sign of hesitation. When Jaxon nudged him, he was still looking. Jaxon said, his voice sarcastic, "You should go talk to her." Damon, "She's not the girl you left behind." Damon's eyes narrowed, but his speech was laboured. The past doesn't interest me. Jaxon lifted an eyebrow. "Not?" Then why do you seem to have j