Zara slammed the apartment door behind her with more force than necessary.
The echo bounced off Damian's cold, high-rise walls like a challenge.
She kicked off her heels, stalked toward the kitchen, and poured herself a generous glass of wine without asking. Screw politeness.
"Your friend Logan is a damn virus," she muttered, not bothering to check if Damian was in earshot.
He was.
Leaning in the archway, arms crossed, that maddening expression on his face half curiosity, half judgment. He hadn't said a word since they'd left the office. And now, with the city lights seeping into the penthouse's dim lighting, he looked like the last temptation she wasn't supposed to touch.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked coolly.
Zara took a long sip. "Not particularly."
He raised a brow. "You're shaking."
She looked down. Her fingers were trembling slightly. Dammit.
"I haven't seen him in three years," she said. "He left me with a bankrupt name and a bleeding company."
"You were engaged," Damian said flatly. "And he stole from you."
Zara didn't respond. She didn't need to confirm it.
Damian stepped closer, voice lowering. "That kind of betrayal leaves scars."
Her eyes snapped to his. "Don't pretend you care."
"I don't," he said without missing a beat. "But I do need to know if he's a threat."
Zara set the wineglass down with a soft clink. "He's always a threat. That's what makes him dangerous. He smiles while he stabs you."
"Then we take him off the board."
She turned to face Damian fully. "You think this is chess?"
He shrugged. "Everything is."
She studied him for a long moment. Damian Wolfe, the emotionally unavailable tycoon who operated like a machine but always seemed a few steps ahead. Too calm. Too calculating.
Too controlled.
Zara, by contrast, was all sharp edges and quick strikes. She didn't slow down long enough to let people close. That's how she survived.
Which was exactly why this arrangement was starting to scare her.
Because he was getting in.
And worse, she wanted him to.
---
Later That Night
Zara couldn't sleep.
Again.
Not because of Logan this time. But because she kept hearing his voice in her head.
~"You're shaking."
~"We take him off the board."
And the way he'd looked at her, like he saw every jagged piece of her and wasn't afraid to hold it.
At 1:43 a.m., she stood in the hallway outside his bedroom, fists clenched at her sides.
This was a terrible idea.
But she knocked.
Damian opened the door almost instantly, shirtless again. Of course.
She didn't look away this time.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, voice low and scratchy from disuse.
"I need something."
His brows lifted slightly. "what do you want?"
"Answers," she said. "And maybe… a distraction."
He stepped aside, and she walked in.
---
His room was surprisingly warm. Soft gray sheets. A darker accent wall. No photos, no signs of life but the subtle scent of cedar and something masculine lingered in the air.
"You're not what I expected," she said, crossing the room.
He closed the door behind her. "And what did you expect?"
"A monster."
"I never claimed to be anything else."
Zara turned slowly, eyes meeting his. The tension in the room curled between them like smoke.
"I'm not good at pretending," she whispered.
Damian stepped close. "Neither am I."
She felt the heat radiating off him. Her heart thundered. Her walls, carefully built over years, began to crack.
"I don't want to want you," she said honestly.
"But you do."
It wasn't a question.
Zara exhaled shakily. "You're bad for me."
"Probably," Damian murmured, brushing her hair off her shoulder. "But we're past caring about that, aren't we?"
She didn't stop him when he touched her. Didn't stop him when his hand slid along her waist. Her body leaned into his like it already knew the shape of him.
When he kissed her, it wasn't soft.
It was hot.
And she let it burn.
---
What followed wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rough either. It was real, sharp breaths, tangled limbs and Whisperers in the dark.
They didn't speak when it ended. Didn't need to.
She curled against him without realizing it, his arm heavy over her waist.
In the quiet after, Zara stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling in line with his.
She should've felt guilty. Exposed. Weak.
Instead… she felt seen.
And that terrified her more than anything.
---
The Morning After 6:59 A.M.
Zara awoke to the smell of coffee and the sound of the shower running. She sat up slowly, pulling the sheets tighter around her.
Shit.
She'd crossed a line. A big one.
Damian's bed. Damian's scent. Damian's head still warm on the pillow beside her.
She slid out quietly, sneaking to her room, and shut the door behind her like sealing away a secret.
By the time she was dressed, coffee in hand, Damian was in the kitchen already suited up, flipping through a news brief like nothing had changed.
"Morning," he said without looking up.
Zara hated how normal it sounded. "You're chipper."
"Don't confuse silence for sentiment."
She leaned on the counter. "About last night…"
Damian looked up finally. His gaze met hers, level and unreadable. "Last night was a mistake."
Her stomach twisted but she nodded anyway. "Agreed."
"Then we don't talk about it."
"Fine."
He sipped his coffee. "But don't think I'm finished with you."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
His mouth curved slightly. "You asked for a distraction. I gave you one. Next time, I might take more."
Zara felt heat rise in her throat. "There won't be a next time."
"We'll see."
---
At 10:45 a.m., her phone buzzed during a board prep meeting.
Unknown Number.
She almost ignored it. Then saw the message:
~LOGAN:You're not safe with him. He's not who you think he his. Meet me. One hour. Alone.
Zara stared at the message until her vision blurred.
Damian was a lot of things. Cold. Dangerous. Addictive.
But what if Logan was right?
What if Damian Wolfe wasn't just a player in the game? what if he owned the whole board?
And what if she'd just handed him her queen?