Chapter Five: The Push and Pull

Grace buried herself in work the next morning like it was armor.

Emails. Reports. Coffee refills. Anything to drown out the echo of Damien’s words from the night before. I will.

She told herself it was just obsession. A game. Men like Damien Blackwood didn’t love, they conquered. And she refused to be conquered again.

Her boss, Mr. Richards, stopped by her desk midmorning, arching a brow. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

Grace forced a smile. “Just a lot on my plate.”

He eyed her with that fatherly concern he sometimes wore. “Don’t burn out. You’re too good at what you do to run yourself into the ground.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, heart not in it.

She tried to focus, she really did. But the glass windows of her office reflected her distracted gaze, and every sound from the street below made her think of him.

By lunchtime, Lila had texted her no less than seven messages:

How’s your day, Mrs. Future Blackwood?

Do I need to bring garlic to ward off the billionaire vampire?

Answer me or I’ll show up and embarrass you.

Grace groaned, shoving her phone into her drawer. She didn’t have the patience for Lila’s theatrics or for her own thoughts, which were becoming just as loud.

She decided to clear her head with a walk. The city streets bustled with energy, vendors shouting, traffic honking, life moving forward at a pace Grace wished she could match.

Halfway down the block, she stopped dead.

Because there he was.

Damien Blackwood.

Leaning against the sleek black car parked at the curb, suit jacket undone, tie loosened like he had all the time in the world.

Watching her.

Her heart skipped. “Oh my God,” she muttered under her breath.

He pushed off the car, straightening to his full height. Passersby gave him quick glances — curiosity, admiration, even fear. He ignored them all. His focus was fixed on her.

Grace spun on her heel, walking fast in the opposite direction.

“Grace.”

His voice carried easily over the city noise, smooth and commanding.

She didn’t stop.

“Running again?”

She froze mid-step. The words cut through her resolve like glass. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned.

Damien stood a few paces behind, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. But his eyes those stormy, relentless eyes locked on hers with the same intensity that had haunted her dreams.

Grace crossed her arms, gripping her elbows like a shield. “You can’t keep doing this. Following me. Showing up wherever I go.”

“Yes, I can,” he said simply.

Her jaw dropped. “You what?”

“I can. And I will. Until you stop pretending you don’t feel this.”

Her pulse skittered. “This? There is no this.”

He took a step closer, voice low. “You’re trembling, Grace. That’s not nothing.”

Her arms tightened around herself, heat rising in her cheeks. Damn him. Damn his certainty. Damn the way her body betrayed her every time he was near.

Grace’s nails bit into her palms as she held her ground.

“You don’t get to decide what I feel,” she snapped, her voice carrying enough that a few pedestrians glanced their way. “You don’t get to show up like some some shadow and demand my attention.”

Damien tilted his head, studying her with infuriating calm. “I don’t demand. I simply exist. And my existence happens to affect you.”

“God, you are so arrogant,” she muttered, pacing a step. “You think the whole world revolves around you because you’re rich and powerful, but guess what? It doesn’t. Not for me.”

His lips curved, slow and dangerous. “And yet here we are. You, standing in the middle of the street, wasting your lunch break to argue with me.”

Her cheeks burned. “Because you won’t leave me alone!”

“And if I did?” He took another step closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Would you really breathe easier? Or would you notice the silence I left behind?”

Grace’s throat tightened. The way he said it like he already knew the answer rattled her more than she wanted to admit.

She squared her shoulders. “You’re exhausting, Damien. And and unhealthy. This is not romance, it’s obsession.”

“Maybe.” His gaze flickered with something sharp, something wounded. “But sometimes obsession is just another word for clarity. I don’t waste time pretending. I want you. I’m not ashamed of it.”

The honesty in his tone knocked the air from her lungs. For a split second, he wasn’t Damien Blackwood, the billionaire tycoon. He was just a man, scarred by loss, refusing to let another chance slip through his fingers.

Grace faltered. She hated that her heart softened even a little.

A passerby brushed against her shoulder, breaking the moment. Damien’s hand shot out instinctively, steadying her with a firm grip. Heat seared through the fabric of her sleeve where his fingers touched.

She yanked her arm back like it burned. “Don’t.”

“Grace”

“No.” Her voice shook, but she stood tall. “You don’t get to touch me. Not here. Not now.”

His jaw flexed, but he nodded once, slowly. “Understood.”

For the first time, Damien took a step back. It startled her more than his advances ever had.

Then he said, softer than she expected, “You think I want control. I don’t. I just want you to stop lying to yourself.”

The words hung between them like a dare, like a confession.

Grace swallowed hard, forcing steel into her spine. “Stay out of my life, Damien.”

She turned and walked away before he could answer, heart hammering so violently she thought it might shatter her ribs. She didn’t look back, though she felt his eyes on her the entire way down the street.

When she finally rounded the corner, her knees nearly buckled. She braced herself against the cold stone of a building, gasping for air.

But beneath the fear and fury, another emotion bloomed, terrifying and undeniable.

She missed him already.

That night, Grace tossed and turned in her bed.

The city outside her window hummed with life, but inside her apartment, silence pressed down like a weight. She should’ve felt safe, away from Damien’s piercing gaze, away from the storm he carried with him everywhere he went.

But safety felt hollow.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Standing in the street. Stepping back when she told him to. His voice whispering in her head: I just want you to stop lying to yourself.

Grace squeezed her pillow, forcing herself to remember Ethan instead. Ethan, with his easy smile and whispered promises. Ethan, who had loved her or pretended to until the truth came out.

She remembered the text messages she wasn’t meant to see, the way her chest had caved when she realized she’d been nothing but a placeholder. He’d left her with scars she swore no one would ever touch again.

So why did Damien’s words cut deeper than Ethan’s betrayal ever had?

“Because he sees you,” she whispered into the dark. “And you don’t want to be seen.”

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She jumped, heart pounding.

A text from Lila: Open your door. I brought wine.

Grace groaned, dragging herself out of bed. When she opened the door, Lila swept inside with a bottle and two glasses.

“You look like you wrestled with a ghost,” Lila said, plopping onto the couch. “And judging by the haunted expression, I’d say the ghost’s name starts with D.”

Grace scowled. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious. You’re just love-sick and in denial.” Lila popped the cork with a dramatic flourish. “Spill it. What happened?”

Grace told her everything seeing Damien outside work, the confrontation, the way he’d stepped back when she demanded it. By the time she finished, her pulse was racing all over again.

Lila whistled. “Well, damn. He actually listened to you? For once?”

“Exactly.” Grace rubbed her temple. “And somehow, that made it worse.”

“Of course it did.” Lila poured two glasses, handing one to her. “Because now you can’t write him off as just a controlling psycho. He’s also… complicated.”

Grace groaned. “Don’t say that.”

“Complicated is sexy,” Lila sang.

“Complicated is dangerous.”

They clinked glasses anyway. Grace took a long sip, the wine burning down her throat.

The knock at the door nearly made her drop the glass.

Lila raised a brow. “Tell me that’s pizza.”

Grace’s pulse spiked. She crept to the door, peeking through the peephole.

Not pizza.

Damien.

Standing tall, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes darker than the night behind him.

“Holy hell,” Lila whispered, joining her at the door. “The devil himself.”

Grace’s chest tightened. She should’ve ignored him. She should’ve locked every bolt and pretended she wasn’t home.

But curiosity or something far more dangerous made her crack the door open.

“What do you want?” she demanded, voice sharper than she felt.

His gaze flicked past her shoulder, landing on Lila. “To make sure you’re safe.”

Grace blinked. “Safe? From what?”

He held up his phone, showing her a news alert. A mugging had happened just a block from her building an hour ago. Violent. Bloody. The victim was still in the hospital.

Her stomach turned.

“I was nearby,” Damien said, his voice low, steady. “I couldn’t ignore it. Not when I knew you were here.”

For once, he wasn’t looming, wasn’t smirking, wasn’t trying to win. He just looked… concerned.

And that, Grace realized with dread, was the most dangerous thing of all.

Lila was the first to recover. She leaned against the wall, arms folded, lips twitching with amusement.

“Well,” she said, “isn’t this cozy? Billionaire stalker at the door, mugger in the streets, wine on the table. My kind of Wednesday.”

Grace shot her a look. “Not helping.”

Damien didn’t even glance at Lila. His focus was locked on Grace, steady and unyielding. “I won’t stay long. I just needed to know you were alright.”

The sincerity in his tone unsettled her more than his obsession ever had.

Lila raised a brow at Grace, then grabbed her coat. “You know what? I think I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.”

“Lila” Grace started, panic bubbling.

But Lila was already heading for the door, winking as she passed Damien. “Try not to kill each other. Or do. Just make it hot.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence swallowed the apartment.

Grace’s pulse thundered. Damien stepped inside slowly, as if giving her time to protest. She didn’t. Couldn’t.

He closed the door behind him, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Probably not,” he admitted. His gaze softened, tracing the tension in her face. “But I couldn’t walk away tonight. Not when I knew danger was this close.”

Her chest tightened. “You can’t protect me from everything.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I can damn well try.”

The words struck something deep, something she’d buried since Ethan. Someone willing to fight for her. To stay, even when she pushed away.

She hated how much she wanted to believe him.

He stepped closer. “Tell me to leave, Grace. Mean it. And I will.”

Her throat closed. She wanted to say it, wanted to demand he walk out and never come back. But the word stuck, heavy and unspoken, on her tongue.

Instead, she whispered, “Damien…”

The sound of his name on her lips seemed to undo him. His hand lifted, pausing just shy of her cheek, waiting for permission.

Every nerve in her body screamed at her to back away. Instead, she leaned into his touch.

Heat seared through her skin, fire and comfort all at once. His thumb brushed lightly along her jaw, and her knees nearly buckled.

“Grace,” he breathed, his forehead lowering to rest against hers. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Her lips parted, a tremor running through her. Their breaths mingled, their mouths a whisper apart. The world outside faded until there was only him the man she should’ve feared but couldn’t stay away from.

Then, just as his lips brushed hers, a crash echoed outside a car alarm blaring in the street below.                  

Grace jerked back like the spell had shattered, chest heaving.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Damien’s eyes burned with frustration and restraint. He hadn’t kissed her. He could have. But he hadn’t.

“You’re not ready,” he said softly, almost to himself. “But you will be.”

Before she could answer, he turned and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Grace stood frozen, her body aching with the ghost of a kiss that hadn’t happened.

And for the first time, she admitted the truth she’d been running from.

She didn’t just fear Damien Blackwood.                 

                                                                                                                                                                             She wanted him.