The tension in the air was thick as Damien stood in the doorway, his piercing gaze locked on Sophie. She had always prided herself on staying calm under pressure, but now, under his intense scrutiny, her mind raced for a plausible excuse. She was caught, and he knew it.
Sophie straightened her posture, trying to exude confidence despite the guilt bubbling beneath her skin. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and put on the most innocent smile she could muster.
"I'm sorry for intruding," she began, her voice steady despite her hammering heart. "It's just that I've never seen a house this big before. I just wanted to look around. I guess I overstepped."
Damien stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound was subtle but ominous, making the space between them feel smaller, more confined. He took a measured step closer, his lips curling into a half-smile that sent a shiver down her spine.
"The fact that you came to my bedroom first is surprising," he said, his tone teasing yet sharp. "Were you that eager to get into my bed?"
Sophie's cheeks flushed crimson. Her temper flared, a welcome distraction from her guilt.
"Oh, shut up," she snapped, turning on her heel to leave.
Before she could make it to the door, Damien's hand caught her wrist, firm but not forceful. The contact sent a jolt through her body, and she froze, glancing back at him.
"Sophie," he murmured, his voice softer now. "Wait."
He pulled her gently but decisively toward him, and before she could protest, she found herself pressed against his chest. The faint scent of cedarwood and something uniquely Damien enveloped her, clouding her senses.
"You have really beautiful eyes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sophie's breath caught. His gaze was unwavering, and for a moment, she was lost in the depth of his dark eyes. There was a vulnerability there, a flicker of something genuine that made her chest tighten. She told herself to push him away, to say something biting and escape, but her body betrayed her.
Damien tilted his head slightly, the space between them shrinking with every passing second. She saw it coming—she could have stopped it—but she didn't. Maybe she didn't want to.
When his lips finally brushed hers, it was electric. A jolt of heat surged through her, leaving her breathless. The world around them disappeared, replaced by the pounding of her heart and the dizzying sensation of his kiss. His hand slid to her waist, anchoring her against him as if he feared she might disappear.
For a fleeting moment, Sophie let herself feel it—the pull, the connection. But reality crashed over her like a tidal wave, cold and unrelenting.
She shoved him away, her palms pressing against his chest with more force than necessary.
"Don't," she gasped, her voice trembling with anger and something she couldn't name.
"Sophie," Damien started, but she cut him off with a glare that could have frozen fire.
"Don't you dare," she spat. "Don't you dare think this is okay."
Her hands were shaking as she turned and stormed toward the door. Every step felt heavier, like her emotions were dragging her down. She wasn't angry at just Damien—she was furious with herself. How could she have let this happen? How could she have let herself feel anything for him, even for a second? Him and his family were responsible for all the pain her family passed through. All the things they had to endure. The sacrifices they had to made. She felt like feeling anything for him other than resentment would make her father's unjust death mean nothing.
She reached the door and yanked it open, her movements jerky and uncoordinated.
"Sophie, wait!" Damien called, his voice laced with urgency.
She didn't stop.
He followed her out into the hallway, but she was moving too quickly, her heels clicking furiously against the polished floor.
"Sophie, listen to me!"
"Leave me alone," she shot back, her tone icy.
The noise of the party below grew louder as she descended the staircase. She could hear Damien's footsteps behind her, but his pursuit was cut short when one of the guests intercepted him.
"Damien," Charles said, his voice jovial but insistent. "We need you for a toast."
Damien hesitated, his eyes darting between the guest and Sophie's retreating figure.
"Damien," Charles repeated, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, man, you're the host. You have to give a toast. It's law."
Sophie didn't look back. She pushed through the crowd, her chest heaving with anger and something that felt too much like regret.
By the time she reached the cool night air, she felt like she could finally breathe again. The sound of laughter and music faded behind her as she made her way down the driveway, her pace brisk and determined.
Inside, Damien stood frozen at the top of the stairs, his fists clenched at his sides. He felt like the biggest idiot in the world. He had crossed a line, and he knew it. He was usually very controlled and exuded a great deal of self control. So what went wrong today?
"Damien, the toast," Charles urged again, pulling him toward the centre of the living room.
"Yeah," Damien said, his voice hollow.
He let himself be led away, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the look on Sophie's face as she left. He couldn't let this be the end of it.
Later, when the party began to wind down, Damien slipped away to a quiet corner of the house. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers hovering over the screen.
With a deep sigh, he dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear.
The line clicked, and a voice answered, but Damien didn't speak immediately. He stared out the window at the empty driveway, his jaw tight.
"I need your help," he said finally, his voice low and determined.