The car door slammed behind them, shutting out the chaos of camera flashes and shouted questions.
Inside, the world was dim and hushed, but Elara couldn't stop shaking. Her pulse was still wild, her skin still tingling from Damien's kiss, and now it was tangled with panic.
"Oh my God," she whispered, pressing her hands to her face. "Oh my actual God. They saw. They saw."
Damien sat beside her, silent, his jaw clenched as the city lights streaked across his face. His hand rested on his knee, fingers tapping once, twice, before curling into a fist.
"They're going to ruin me," Elara said, her voice cracking. "I'll be the joke of the office. HR will have my head. My career—"
"Stop." Damien's tone was sharp, commanding, but not unkind. He turned to face her fully, his hand closing around hers, prying it gently from her face. "No one ruins you. Not while I'm breathing."
Her eyes stung. She wanted to believe him, wanted to sink into the warmth of his grip. But fear was louder. "You don't get it. You're you. Billionaire. CEO. Untouchable. But me? I'm just—"
"Mine," he cut in, voice low and dangerous. "You're not just anything, Elara. Not to me."
Her breath hitched. That word again. Mine. It wrapped around her chest like a chain she couldn't decide if she wanted to break or keep forever.
She tore her gaze away, staring out the tinted window at the city rushing past. "This isn't a joke, Damien. There will be gossip, articles, rumors. People will say I slept my way into this job."
"They'll say whatever the hell they want." He leaned closer, his voice dropping into steel. "And I'll burn their words to the ground if they touch you with them."
Her lips trembled, torn between frustration and the ache in her chest. "You can't control everything."
"No," he admitted, softer now. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, tender where moments ago he'd been fire. "But I can protect you. And I will."
The car slowed, pulling up in front of the hotel. The driver opened the door, and the cool night air spilled in.
Elara hesitated, her body half turned toward Damien. He looked at her like she was the only person in the world that mattered.
And that terrified her more than the paparazzi ever could.
"I can't do this," she whispered, slipping her hand from his. Before he could stop her, she stepped out into the night, heels clicking against the pavement, her red dress a slash of defiance against the dark.
Damien watched from the shadows of the car, his jaw tight, his hand still tingling where hers had been.
For the first time in years, Damien Kane felt powerless.
And he hated it.