*Isabella POV*
"Isabella... you look so..." he trailed off, his gaze doing a slow, thorough sweep of my body as I concluded my descent down the grand staircase. Every step was deliberate, a small, confident beat in the quiet, hallway.
"You don't look so bad yourself," I said, but that was a fucking understatement. He'd ditched the armour of his suits for a simple black shirt that hugged his torso, showing off every hard-earned muscle. Over it, he wore a long-sleeved, red plaid button-down, left open, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, flexing along with his forearms. And a pair of well-fitting black jeans. He looked... relaxed. Approachable. And like a fucking snack.
"I thought for a minute you'd wear shorts, but I know they're not your style at all," I teased, trying to cover up the fact that my mouth had gone a little dry.
"I like the shirt, it's..." I started, but I couldn't find my fucking words. I looked back at him, and he was just... staring. His eyes were dark, intense, and he looked completely lost, just ogling me with an open, almost vulnerable expression I'd never seen on him before.
"What's the matter, Damien? Haven't you seen so much skin before?" I teased, my voice a little shaky.
"It's not that, it's..." he didn't finish his sentence. In two long strides, he closed the distance between us. He backed me against the wall, his hand braced on the wall beside my head, keeping me pinned there. I let out a sudden gasp at the sudden close proximity, the cool wall a shock against my back, his body a wall of heat in front of me.
"You look so sweet and sexy and cute, all at once," he said, his voice a low, rough murmur that vibrated right through me. "I can't believe I'm the one who is being taken out by you tonight. I feel so lucky."
My heart did a stupid little flip-flop against my ribs. This was too much. Too raw. I had to deflect. "Leave the false modesty for someone who digs it," I said with a smug smile, my voice laced with a sarcasm I didn't really feel. "Let's go."
He let out a low, deep laugh. He shook his head, a slow, smile spreading across his face. He pushed off the wall, offering me his arm. I took it, and we headed out into the night, the promise of music and a crowd the last thing on my mind.
We got to the concert venue, and the noise hit me first. A wall of sound, a deep, thumping bass that I could feel in my fucking bones, blended with the excited roar of a thousand conversations. The air was thick with the smell of beer, cheap perfume, and a faint, electric tang of anticipation. Coloured lights swept across the darkened space, painting the crowd in shades of electric blue and vibrant purple.
We shimmied our way through the dense, mass of bodies, a sea of strangers all pushing towards the same goal. He remained a solid, presence behind me, his hand a firm, protective grip on my waist, guiding me through the chaos. I was buzzing with excitement, a wide, uncontainable smile on my face, but I could feel his tension, a coiled stiffness in his movements.
About halfway to the front, he just... stopped. He planted his feet like a fucking oak tree in a hurricane, pulling me gently but firmly back against his chest.
"You know our tickets grant us front-row access, don't you?" I shouted over the noise of some other, already-forgotten band blasting from the stage.
"Yeah, no, I'm good here," he said, his voice a low, calm rumble right against my ear, completely at odds with the chaotic energy around us.
I couldn't help it, I threw my head back and laughed. "I can't wait for all of these losers to end their performances," I said with a knowing smirk, turning in his arms to look up at him. "When Coldplay comes on stage, I think you'll loosen up."
And man, was I right about that. His stiff posture remained the same for as long as the other bands performed. He just stood there, a tall, imposing statue of a man, looking vaguely unimpressed, It was fucking hilarious.
But fuck, as soon as his favourite band came on stage, it was like watching a fucking magic trick. The opening chords of a familiar song washed over the crowd, a wave of sound that had everyone screaming. And Damien... his eyes, which had been scanning the crowd with a bored, predatory gaze, lit up from within. He looked like a little boy on Christmas morning who'd just been handed the keys to a fucking Ferrari.
He took my hand, his fingers lacing through mine, and squeezed it gently, a gesture so full of excitement it made my chest ache. "Look, Isabella," he said, his voice full of this... wonder.
"I'm looking," I laughed, my own heart swelling at the sight of him.
With each song they played, he relaxed more and more, the stiff, imposing CEO melting away layer by layer, and I was there to witness it all. I was there to witness how he dropped his serious attitude. His clenched jaw, a permanent feature I'd gotten so used to, softened. First into a faint, almost hesitant smile, and then it bloomed into a wide, unguarded smile that brightened his entire fucking face, reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the corners.
He hugged me from behind, his arms wrapping around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder as we swayed together. He started humming the lyrics to "All My Love" right in my ear, a low, slightly off-key but completely endearing mumble that vibrated through my entire body. He moved slowly, following the rhythm of the music, his body a loose, fluid thing against mine. I felt how their music moved him with s pure joy, a carefree happiness I'd never seen in him before. And in that moment, surrounded by a sea of strangers and coloured lights, I couldn't help but feel the same fucking joy he was feeling.