I finally snapped back to the present, my heels were now on, and my dignity was still dangling in a balance. After the weight of everything that happened last night dawned on me, I had no choice but to stay, but for some reason, I didn't know why he wanted me to stay so badly.
Yes, he said it was because we might have not used protection, since both of us were so caught up in the moment but, he didn't look like the kind of guy that would take responsibility of being a father. I mean, any normal guy with a careless, reckless, one-night stand would wait till the result showed up and then just ask for an abortion or something.
Well, I just had to stay, besides, even if I decided to leave, there was nowhere to live 'cause I was just given an eviction letter—scratch that: an eviction notice from my landlord to leave.
"Shower, breakfast, then we leave," he said without even glancing up. His tone left no room for negotiation.
I wanted to argue. I wanted to throw the bag at him and storm out. But instead, I muttered, "Bossy much," and dragged myself toward the bathroom after I dropped my bag on the couch.
The hot water stung, washing away the mess of last night, but definitely not the memories. Not the heat. Not the way I let myself fall.
By the time I padded back into the room, damp hair sticking to my neck, he was setting a plate on the table. I didn't trust my voice enough to speak, so I pulled out my phone and dialed Clara.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Selene, Oh God? Where the hell are you? I thought you went out for just one drink—"
"One drink turned into… let's just say a whole Greek tragedy," I cut in, trying to lower my voice. "Clara, don't freak out, but I ended up with Damian De Rossi."
There was a long pause. Then, "With him? Or with him?"
I rubbed my temples. "Both. He saved me at the bar. Some creeps cornered me; it got ugly, and he stepped in. And then… well. One thing led to another."
"Selene!" Clara's voice shot through the receiver. "Tell me you're joking. Damian De Rossi? The guy who—"
"Yes, that guy," I whispered, as I glanced toward the kitchen where Damian was now sipping coffee like he didn't just ruin my innocence or whatever shred of self-control I had left. "I don't even know how it happened, Clara. I was drunk, he was… there. He paid for my drink, he carried me out, and then—God, this sounds insane even saying it out loud—we had sex."
Clara gasped so loud I had to hold the phone away. "You slept with him on the first night?"
"Don't say it like that! I didn't plan this," I hissed. "I didn't even like him—he's arrogant, broody, impossible. But my body didn't exactly ask my brain for permission."
"You're insane." Clara's tone dropped, softer now. "Selene, you don't know what kind of man he is. People like him… they don't come without shadows."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Trust me, I already got a glimpse of his demons. But Clara, the messed-up part? I wanted it. I still want it."
Silence stretched on the other end. Then Clara sighed. "Oh, Selene. You're playing with fire."
I stared at Damian's back as he stood by the window, sunlight cutting across his sharp profile. Fire? That was an understatement.
-----------------
Breakfast with Damian was… quiet, maybe too quiet, and i was the kind of silence that pressed against my chest and made me hyper-aware of every sound—the scrape of his fork, the clink of his glass, even the way he breathed.
I was halfway through stabbing my eggs when his voice cut through.
"You were a virgin."
I froze, fork in midair. My face burned hotter than the coffee in front of me. "Excuse me?"
He didn't even flinch, just leaned back in his chair, studying me with those sharp, unreadable eyes. "Don't act surprised, although, its not normal for a lady your age not to be f*cked"
My jaw dropped. My head spun. Did this bastard just—?
Wait. Did he seriously think I was some whore who'd just been lying around waiting for him?
Last night he was gentle, careful… almost sweet. But here, in the daylight, he was sharp edges and cold stone, slicing straight into my dignity like it was his right.
"You've got some nerve," I snapped, heat rushing up my neck. "What did you think, huh? That I was some cheap slut you picked up at a VIP lounge? A stripper you could buy with a glass of champagne?"
His lips tugged upward, slow and deliberate. Not quite a smile. Not quite a smirk. More like a challenge. "Relax. I never said you were cheap. Just untouched. And now…" He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping, "you're not."
My stomach twisted. My pride screamed at me to throw the coffee in his smug face. Instead, the words burst out, sharp and bitter: "So what if I was? Is this some kind of trophy for you? Congratulations, Damian De Rossi. You've successfully ruined me."
"Ruined?" His voice was velvet over steel. "No. Marked, maybe. Changed? Definitely."
Damn him. I hated the way my pulse jumped at that. "You make it sound like I'm your property."
"You're not property," he said, low and steady. "But you are mine, Selene. Whether you like it... or not."
My fork clattered onto the plate as I leaned forward, eyes locked with his. "Don't flatter yourself. One reckless night doesn't make me yours, Mr. Damian. I'm still trying to figure out why you even want me here. What's the real reason, Damian? Why not let me walk away and pretend none of this ever happened?"
His eyes darkened, obsidian storming over. For a second, I thought he'd let the silence hang, torture me with that smug self-control. But then he set his glass down, his fingers drumming against the table.
"The real reason?" His voice was rougher now, like gravel and smoke. "I told you before didn't I?"
Oh, yes, he did, but that isn't enough reason for him to want me to stay.
"Or, maybe—" he finally broke the silence. "—it's because I might be because—"
He then rose and strode to my seat and whispered behind me: "—I want you for more nights."
My breath caught. The air between us turned hot, electric, charged with something that had nothing to do with eggs or coffee. Suddenly, breakfast didn't feel innocent anymore.