Chapter Four: Shadows of the Past

Grace didn’t sleep that night.

She tossed and turned beneath her sheets, the warmth of the pub’s confrontation replaying in her mind like a cursed film reel. Ethan’s sneer. Damien’s dangerous calm. The way Damien had leaned in close and declared, she’ll choose me.

Her pulse jumped just thinking about it.

It wasn’t just the arrogance of the words it was the certainty in his voice, as though Damien had already seen a future she was too terrified to imagine.

By the time dawn crept through the blinds, Grace gave up on sleep altogether. She pulled on her worn sneakers and went for a jog through the quiet streets of her neighborhood. The air was sharp, cool, grounding. She needed that needed to feel like her life was hers again, not some tug-of-war between two men who had no right to claim her.

But no matter how far she ran, Damien’s voice stayed with her.

Later that morning, Grace sat at her favorite café, laptop open, trying to focus on work. But her eyes kept drifting to the door, every bell-chime making her heart lurch. She hated that she was waiting for him.

And, of course, as if summoned by her thoughts, Damien Blackwood appeared.

Tall. Immaculate. The kind of presence that turned a room into background noise.

He spotted her instantly and didn’t hesitate. Within seconds, he was at her table, sliding into the seat across from her as if he belonged there.

Grace’s stomach flipped. “Damien. What are you ”

“Having coffee,” he said smoothly, signaling the waiter without taking his eyes off her. “With you.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Grace’s fingers tightened around her mug. “This is harassment, you know.”

He smirked. “Harassment? Or persistence?”

“Damien…” she warned.

The waiter arrived. Damien ordered black coffee, then leaned back, studying her with that same stormy gaze that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

“You ran from me last night,” he said finally.

Grace’s chest tightened. “Because you don’t know when to stop.”

“No,” he corrected softly. “Because you’re afraid.”

Her throat went dry. “Afraid of what?”

He leaned forward, voice low, intimate. “Of how much you want this.”

Her breath caught and for a terrifying moment, she couldn’t find a reply. Because he wasn’t wrong.

Grace forced herself to hold his gaze, though every instinct screamed at her to look away. Damien’s confidence was overwhelming, the kind that pressed into her chest like a weight.

“You think you know me,” she said, voice steady even though her pulse wasn’t.

“I do know you,” Damien replied simply. “Not everything. Not yet. But I know enough.”

Grace let out a short, bitter laugh. “Really? Then tell me. Who am I, Damien? What do you think you see?”

His eyes darkened. He didn’t flinch. “I see a woman who’s been hurt badly enough to build walls no one can climb. A woman who hides behind her routines, her safe little world, because it’s easier than risking another scar. But underneath all that armor…” He leaned closer, his voice lowering until she could feel the heat of it on her skin. “…is someone who still wants to be chosen. To be seen. To be loved without conditions.”

The words cracked something inside her.

Her breath stuttered, chest tightening. No one not even Lila had ever spoken her truth out loud with such terrifying precision.

Grace forced a smile to cover the tremor in her voice. “Wow. You must practice that line in the mirror.”

Damien’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk, but his eyes stayed serious. “I don’t rehearse the truth, Grace.”

The waiter set down his coffee, breaking the tension. Damien didn’t touch it. His entire focus stayed locked on her.

Grace wrapped her hands around her own mug, trying to anchor herself. “You don’t know anything about me. Not really. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“Then tell me.”

Her chest tightened. God, no. Not here. Not with him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered, glancing down.

“I would.” His voice was softer this time, almost fragile. “More than you think.”

That startled her. She looked up, searching his face for cracks in the polished armor. For the first time, she saw something there a flicker of rawness behind his storm-grey eyes.

“What happened to you?” she asked before she could stop herself.

The smirk faded. His jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, Grace thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then, in a voice quieter than she’d ever heard from him, he said: “I lost someone. Years ago. And I swore I’d never feel that powerless again.”

Grace’s throat tightened. The weight in his tone made her heart ache against her will.

“Who?” she whispered.

He shook his head once, sharply, as though cutting off the memory before it swallowed him. “Not here. Not yet.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with things unsaid.

Grace swallowed hard, suddenly desperate to change the subject, to claw back some control. “Whatever your sob story is, Damien, it doesn’t excuse barging into my life.”

He leaned back finally, but his gaze never softened. “I don’t need excuses. I need you.”

Her heart lurched.

And just like that, the walls she’d fought to rebuild cracked again.

 “Grace!”

The sharp voice jolted her out of Damien’s gaze. She turned just in time to see Lila storming through the café doors, her oversized sunglasses perched like armor and her tote bag swinging like a weapon.

“Oh, thank God,” Grace muttered under her breath.

Damien arched a brow. “Friend of yours?”

Before Grace could answer, Lila slid into the seat beside her, glaring at Damien like he was the villain in a soap opera. “Oh, don’t ‘friend’ me. I know exactly who you are.”

Damien smirked, unbothered. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Lila shot back. “You’re Damien Blackwood. Billionaire. Infamous. Probably has a secret lair somewhere. And now you’re sitting across from my best friend like you own the place.”

Grace winced. “Lila…”

“No, don’t ‘Lila’ me,” she snapped. “You don’t get to play knight in shining Armani and think you can swoop into her life. Grace doesn’t need saving, and she definitely doesn’t need whatever brand of trouble you are.”

Damien’s smirk deepened, though his eyes stayed fixed on Grace. “Trouble?”

“Capital T,” Lila confirmed. “Bold. Underlined. Probably with a criminal record attached.”

Grace rubbed her temples. “Lila, please”

But Lila wasn’t finished. “Listen, Mr. Billionaire, Grace has already been through hell thanks to one charming liar. She doesn’t need a sequel.”

For the first time, Damien’s smile faded. His gaze flicked to Grace, something sharp flashing in his expression. “Is that what you think I am? A sequel?”

Grace froze. Words tangled in her throat. She wanted to say yes. Wanted to shove him away with the same force she felt pulling her toward him.

But no sound came out.

Lila noticed the silence, her eyes narrowing. “Grace. We’re leaving.” She grabbed her arm and tugged her up from the table before Grace could object.

Damien didn’t stop them. He didn’t chase.

But as Grace was dragged toward the door, he called after her, his voice calm, deliberate, and laced with warning:

“You can run, Grace. But you’ll see me again. Sooner than you think.”

The words followed her out of the café, threading themselves into her pulse.

That evening, Grace tried to lose herself in work, but her mind was elsewhere. Every sound outside her apartment window made her jump. Every shadow seemed longer, sharper.

Finally, desperate for distraction, she curled up on the couch with Lila, who had insisted on a girls’ night. Popcorn, bad movies, and endless commentary were supposed to push Damien out of her head.

It worked until Grace’s phone buzzed.

She picked it up, expecting spam, maybe Ethan, maybe work.

But it wasn’t any of those.

It was a photo.

Of her.

Sitting in the café earlier that morning.

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

And underneath the photo was a single message:

“Told you I’d see you again.”

Grace’s hand trembled as she stared at the glowing screen.

Lila, noticing her frozen expression, frowned. “What? What is it?”

Grace turned the phone toward her.

Lila’s jaw dropped. “Oh, hell no. He did not just send you a stalker shot.”

Grace’s chest tightened. “He was there. Watching. And I didn’t even—” She cut herself off, panic surging. “Lila, this isn’t normal. This is—”

“Creepy?” Lila supplied. “Obsessive? Grounds for a restraining order?”

“Yes!” Grace snapped, her voice breaking. She dropped the phone onto the couch like it was burning her. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

But even as she asked, her heart answered the question for her. Because Damien Blackwood wasn’t built to let go.

A knock at the door made them both jump.

Lila’s eyes widened. “If that’s him, I’m calling the cops.”

Grace’s breath stuttered as she crossed the room. Every step felt heavier than the last. She peeked through the peephole and her stomach flipped.

It was him.      

Damien Blackwood. Standing in the dim hallway like a storm waiting to be let inside.

Lila hissed, “Don’t you dare open that door!”

But Grace’s hand was already reaching for the handle. Something inside her — anger, fear, curiosity, maybe all of it demanded answers.

The door creaked open.

“Grace,” Damien said softly, his eyes locking onto hers.

Her voice came out sharp, trembling. “You took a picture of me.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea how insane that is?”

“Yes.”

“Then why?”

His gaze darkened. “Because I needed you to understand. I’m not going away.”

Grace’s chest heaved. “That’s not romantic, Damien. That’s terrifying.”

He stepped closer, careful but unyielding. “I don’t mean to scare you. But I won’t apologize for wanting you. For fighting for you. You can hate me for it, you can scream at me, but you’ll never be able to say I didn’t make you feel something.”

Her throat closed. Damn him. Damn his words. Because the truth was, she did feel something. Too much.

Damien’s voice softened, breaking through the storm. “The person I lost… I couldn’t fight for them. They slipped away before I had the chance. And I swore I’d never make that mistake again. Not when I found someone worth it.”

His eyes burned into hers, raw and unguarded. “That someone is you.”

Grace’s heart twisted painfully. She wanted to slam the door. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. She wanted to run until her lungs gave out.

Instead, she whispered, “You don’t know me.”

Damien leaned in, his lips inches from hers. His reply was a vow, steady and unshakable:

“I will.”

The air crackled between them, so charged Grace thought she might combust. But before she could decide whether to give in or shove him away, Lila’s voice shattered the moment.

“Okay, that’s it!” Lila yanked the door wider, glaring at Damien. “You’ve had your dramatic speech. Now leave before I call security.”

Damien’s jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed on Grace. “This isn’t over.”

And with that, he turned and disappeared down the hall, his presence lingering like smoke even after he was gone.

Grace collapsed against the door, shaking. Her heart was still pounding when Lila muttered, “Girl, you need holy water. That man is the devil in a three-piece suit.”

Grace closed her eyes, whispering the truth she was too afraid to admit out loud:

The devil had never looked so tempting.