Zara didn't sleep well in other people's beds.
It wasn't the plush Egyptian cotton sheets or the unobstructed skyline view from the 50th floor. It wasn't even the way Damian's penthouse felt more like a hotel than a home.. sterile and perfect.
It was the knowledge that he was right down the hall.
Worse: she didn't trust herself not to go to him.
She stared up at the ceiling in the dark, the taste of red wine still on her lips. Her silk robe was too thin, her thoughts too loud.
At 2:36 a.m., she gave up.
---
The kitchen was dimly lit by the city glow outside. Zara moved like a ghost across the cold tiles, barefoot, sleep-starved, unsettled.
She reached for a bottle of water in the fridge and nearly screamed when a voice murmured, "Can't sleep either?"
Damian stood in the shadows, shirtless, glass of whiskey in hand, tattoos licking across his left ribcage black ink over tan, taut skin.
Zara stared for a second too long.
"You look surprised," he said.
"I thought the devil slept well."
He chuckled, leaning on the counter. "Only when I've ruined someone's day."
"Or night," she muttered, grabbing her water.
There was a silence that stretched thin between them. Not awkward, tense. Heavy with everything unsaid.
"Why are you really doing this?" she asked suddenly, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
He blinked.
"This whole act," she continued. "The contract, the partnership. You already have money. Power. What's left?"
Damian didn't answer at first. His gaze dropped to the counter, then back to her face. "There are things you can't buy back," he said. "Not even with billions."
Zara's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
He took a slow sip of whiskey. "Trust."
That caught her off guard. Her instinct was to fire back with something sharp, but the look on his face stopped her.
It was just a flicker. A crack in the armor.
Then it was gone.
"You lost someone," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Damian's jaw twitched. "I didn't lose them. I broke them."
Zare took a step closer.
"I told you," he said quietly. "You shouldn't trust me."
"I don't."
Another step. Her back brushed the kitchen island. She could smell him again smoke and danger.
"Then why are you still here?"
Because she needed the deal. Because she hated to lose. Because something about him made her skin feel too tight and her body too aware.
"I could ask you the same," she said.
His hand hovered near her hip. Not touching. Just there. Like gravity itself bent toward her.
"We keep pretending this is all business," Damian murmured. "But you felt it the moment we shook hands."
She hated that he was right.
"I don't sleep with business partners."
He smiled, slow and infuriating. "Then maybe we should renegotiate the terms."
---
They didn't kiss.
Not yet.
But something passed between them in the dark, an unspoken agreement more binding than anything their lawyers drafted.
Zara went back to bed with her pulse in her throat.
And Damian stayed in the kitchen long after she'd gone, staring out at the glittering city with something unreadable in his eyes.
---
The Next Morning – 7:52 A.M.
Zara stepped into the Wolfe conference room, only to stop cold.
Because he was there.
Not Damian. Someone else.
Tall, broad, and wearing a smile that made her stomach twist with memories she'd spent years trying to forget.
"Logan," she said, breath catching.
He rose from his chair like sin dressed in Armani.
"Hello, Zara."
Damian turned from the head of the table, his expression unreadable. "You two know each other?"
Zara didn't answer.
Logan answered for her.
"Once upon a time, we were engaged."
---
The room tilted slightly, just for a second.
Zara stood tall, jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palm like tiny weapons.
Damian's expression didn't change, but something sharp flickered behind his eyes.
Logan's smile never faltered. "We haven't spoken in a few years," he said smoothly. "I didn't know you were partnering with Wolfe."
Zara narrowed her eyes. "And I didn't know you were crawling back into relevance."
He chuckled. "Still biting."
Damian broke the silence. "Logan represents a firm interested in backing the expansion. He's got connections I don't. And I don't turn down useful alliances."
Zara hated how that felt.
Useful. Like she was a tool. A counter-move.
And yet, this was business. She'd played this game before. She'd bled for it.
She took her seat beside Damian, eyes never leaving Logan. "Then let's talk strategy."
---
The meeting dragged.
Logan pitched ideas. Damian nodded thoughtfully. Zara said little. She was too busy calculating how many ways this could explode.
Logan had been her first heartbreak. Her first real betrayal. He'd walked away with half her designs, pitched them to a rival, and then smiled like he hadn't just gutted her.
Now he was here. Sitting across the table, calm as ever.
When the meeting ended, Damian didn't move.
Zara stood, but before she could leave, his voice stopped her.
"You didn't tell me about him."
She turned, defensive. "You didn't ask."
He stood too, stepping close. Too close.
"You're not just in this contract, Zara. You're in my world. That means I need to know who you've burned and who might want to burn you."
She bristled. "Is that a threat?"
"No," he said. "That's a warning."
Zara's heart pounded. She hated the fear rising in her throat. Not because she was afraid of Damian, but because part of her wanted him to protect her.
And that was far more dangerous.
She shoved the thought away.
"Don't mistake my past for weakness," she said, coolly. "I didn't survive him. I buried him."
Damian's smile was slow and unreadable. "Good. Then do it again