Chapter Two: The Chase Begins

The coffee shop smelled like roasted beans, vanilla, and the faint sweetness of pastries that had just come out of the oven. It was the only place Grace felt she could breathe after the chaos of yesterday.

Her best friend, Lila Bennett, sat across from her in their usual booth, nursing a cappuccino with extra foam. Lila’s sharp green eyes narrowed as Grace recounted the entire ordeal with Damien Blackwood from the coffee spill to the boardroom ambush.

By the time Grace finished, Lila was staring at her like she’d grown two heads.

“You mean to tell me,” Lila said slowly, “that Damien Blackwood the Damien Blackwood dragged you into a meeting with his top executives and introduced you like you belonged there?”

Grace groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me. It was humiliating. I probably looked like an idiot. Everyone in that room was dressed in Armani, and I was in a clearance rack blouse from Target.”

“Target is chic if you style it right,” Lila said with a dismissive wave. Then she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But, Grace… do you realize what this means?”

“Yes. That I should start looking for new jobs because I probably embarrassed my entire department.”

“No!” Lila smacked the table, making the sugar packets jump. “It means Damien Blackwood is interested in you.”

Grace’s head shot up. “He’s not interested. He’s he’s playing some weird power game. Men like him don’t get interested in women like me.”

“Oh, please.” Lila rolled her eyes. “You’re smart, gorgeous in that understated, girl-next-door way, and you have zero tolerance for bullshit. That’s like catnip to a man who’s used to people kissing the ground he walks on.”

Grace shook her head vehemently. “No. He’s… different. Dangerous. He doesn’t just walk into a room, Lila he owns it. I’ve never met anyone like him, and honestly, it scares me.”

Lila grinned knowingly. “Or excites you.”

Grace nearly choked on her latte. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Your cheeks get pink every time you mention his name.”

“They do not!”

“They do too,” Lila said smugly, sipping her cappuccino. “Face it, Gracie. You’re intrigued. And honestly? You should be. Damien Blackwood could have any woman in this city, and for some reason, he’s chasing you. At the very least, enjoy the attention.”

Grace slumped back in her seat, defeated. “I don’t want his attention. I want a normal life. A stable career. Maybe someday a nice guy who doesn’t make me feel like I’m about to be swallowed whole every time he looks at me.”

“Sweetheart,” Lila said gently, “men like Damien Blackwood don’t give you normal. They give you unforgettable.”

Grace fell silent, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear, frustration, and yes an undeniable flicker of curiosity she hated herself for.

By the time Grace left the café, she was determined to put Damien out of her mind. She marched into the office, buried herself in spreadsheets, and avoided the Blackwood International side of the building like it was cursed ground.

For two blessed hours, it worked.

Until her phone buzzed.

She frowned, picking it up. An email notification lit the screen:

From: Damien Blackwood

Subject: Lunch.

Message: Be ready in 10 minutes.

Grace’s stomach dropped. “What the”

Before she could even think about replying, another email arrived.

From: Damien Blackwood

Subject: Don’t bother saying no.

She slammed her phone down, heat rising to her cheeks. The audacity of this man!

She wasn’t going anywhere. Absolutely not.

Five minutes later, her office phone rang.

“Grace Monroe,” she answered, trying to keep her voice professional.

“Ten minutes,” came the smooth, commanding voice on the other end.

Her throat went dry. “Mr. Blackwood, with all due respect ”

The line went dead.

Grace sat frozen in her chair, pulse racing.

Lila’s words echoed in her head. Men like Damien Blackwood don’t give you normal. They give you unforgettable.

Grace muttered a very unladylike curse under her breath.

She wasn’t going.

She wasn’t.

But when she stepped out of her office a few minutes later, there he was leaning casually against the doorframe, tailored suit immaculate, storm-grey eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing that existed.

Damien Blackwood.

And he looked like a man who always got what he wanted.

Grace’s brain screamed at her to run, but her legs betrayed her. She stood frozen as Damien pushed off the doorframe with a fluid grace that reminded her of a predator closing in on its prey.

“Good girl,” he said softly, like she’d already agreed to go with him.

Grace bristled. “Excuse me?”

His lips curved, but his eyes stayed unreadable. “You didn’t bolt. Progress.”

“I wasn’t going to bolt,” she snapped, though she had absolutely considered it.

“Of course you weren’t.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Grace crossed her arms, glaring. “You can’t just show up and order me around. I’m not some ”

“Employee?” His brow arched. “You technically are.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“Life’s not fair, Grace,” Damien said smoothly. “But lunch with me is. You eat, I talk. Harmless.”

“Nothing about you is harmless,” she muttered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re learning.”

Before she could protest further, he gestured toward the elevator. “Come on. Ten minutes of your time. If you hate it, you can walk out, and I won’t stop you.”

Grace narrowed her eyes. “You’d really let me walk out?”

“Try me.”

She should have walked. She should have turned on her heel and gone back to her spreadsheets.

But instead, she found herself in Damien’s sleek black car again, heart hammering as the city blurred by.

They arrived at an exclusive rooftop restaurant that Grace had only ever seen in magazines. The host greeted Damien by name and whisked them to a secluded table overlooking the skyline.

Grace sank into her chair, feeling wildly out of place.

Damien, of course, looked utterly at home.

“You dragged me here,” she said once the waiter left. “So talk. What do you want from me?”

He studied her for a long moment, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “Honesty.”

Grace blinked. “What?”

“Everyone I deal with wants something from me,” Damien said, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “Money. Power. Influence. They tell me what I want to hear because they’re afraid not to. But you…” His eyes locked on hers. “You don’t seem afraid of me.”

Grace let out a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding? I’m terrified of you.”

“Yet you still tell me exactly what you think. That makes you more honest than anyone I know.”

Grace shifted uncomfortably. His words weren’t smooth or manipulative they were startlingly genuine. And that unsettled her even more.

“Well, honesty goes both ways,” she said cautiously. “So why me? Why drag me into your world when you could have any model, actress, or socialite at your beck and call?”

For the first time, Damien’s mask slipped just a little. His jaw tightened, his gaze flickered away.

“Because you don’t want anything from me,” he said finally.

The vulnerability in his tone was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual confidence. But Grace had heard it.

And it shook her.

Lunch passed in a blur of delicious food Grace barely tasted and conversation that felt like a tug-of-war. Damien would reveal a sliver of himself, then cover it with steel. Grace would push back with sarcasm, and he’d counter with amusement.

By the time the waiter cleared their plates, she realized she’d spent the entire hour forgetting she was supposed to hate him.

Which was exactly what he wanted, she suspected.

When they stood to leave, Damien offered his hand. “See? Harmless.”

Grace didn’t take it. “This was not harmless.”

His smile was slow, dangerous. “Good. Harmless is boring.”

Back in the car, Grace pressed herself against the seat, needing distance. “This can’t happen again.”

“It will,” Damien said simply.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Grace let out a frustrated growl. “You are the most insufferable man I’ve ever met.”

“And yet…” His gaze flicked to her, dark and intense. “You’re still here.”

Her breath caught. She hated that he was right.

When the car pulled up to her office, Grace practically bolted out. But before she could escape, Damien called after her.

“Grace.”

She froze. Against her better judgment, she turned.

He leaned against the car door, his expression unreadable. “Don’t waste your time looking for normal. Normal won’t keep you awake at night.”

Her heart stuttered.

“See you soon,” he added, before slipping back into the car and vanishing into traffic.

Grace stood rooted to the sidewalk, torn between fury and a terrifying spark of anticipation she didn’t want to feel.

Grace threw herself into work for the rest of the day, refusing to let Damien’s words echo in her head.

Normal won’t keep you awake at night.

Well, good. She liked normal. Normal meant peace, predictability, stability.

But that night, as she curled up on her couch with Chinese takeout and a rom-com playing in the background, her mind betrayed her. The movie’s charming lead reminded her of Damien though Damien would never stumble over his words or trip in the rain. No, Damien would sweep in with thunder at his back and a glass of scotch in his hand, confident to the point of infuriation.

Grace groaned and buried her face in a pillow.

“Why am I even thinking about him?” she muttered.

Because he unsettled her. Because he made her feel alive in a way she didn’t want to admit.

Her phone buzzed. For a wild second, she thought it might be Damien again. But no it was Lila.

Lila: Girl, you better not be sulking. Meet me at O’Malley’s. One drink. No excuses.

Grace smiled despite herself. Lila always knew when she needed saving from her own spiraling thoughts.

O’Malley’s was a cozy Irish pub tucked on a corner downtown. Wooden beams, dim lighting, the faint smell of hops and fried food it was comfort wrapped in nostalgia. Grace and Lila had been coming here since college, sneaking cheap beers and karaoke nights into their schedules between exams.

When Grace walked in, she spotted Lila at their usual booth, waving enthusiastically.

“You look like you need whiskey,” Lila declared as Grace slid into the seat.

“I need an exorcism,” Grace muttered.

Lila laughed. “Damien Blackwood again?”

Grace groaned. “Don’t say his name. It gives him power.”

“Sweetheart, he already has all the power. But seriously, what’s the worst that happens? You flirt a little, have some fun, then walk away. You don’t have to marry the guy.”

Grace gave her a flat look. “You make it sound easy.”

“It is easy.” Lila winked. “You’re just allergic to fun.”

Grace was about to argue when she felt it the unmistakable prickle at the back of her neck. That sense of being watched.

Her stomach dropped. Slowly, she turned toward the bar.

And there he was.

Damien Blackwood.

Leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place. A glass of something dark in his hand. His eyes those stormy, unreadable eyes locked on hers.

Grace’s breath caught. “Oh no.”

Lila followed her gaze, then let out a low whistle. “Well, well. Speak of the devil.”

Grace whipped back around, her pulse racing. “He’s not supposed to be here. This is my place. My safe place.”

“Sweetheart,” Lila murmured, trying not to grin, “I don’t think Damien Blackwood believes in safe places.”

Grace gripped the edge of the table, heart hammering. She’d told herself she could avoid him, control this, keep her distance.

But now he was here, in her sanctuary, shattering the illusion of normal she’d been clinging to.

And from the way he started moving toward their booth, deliberate and unhurried, Grace knew one thing for certain:

Running wasn’t an option anymore