The city skyline glittered like a sea of stars as Evelyn stood on the balcony of Damian's penthouse, her fingers gripping the railing tightly. The cool night air brushed against her skin, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside her. She had been invited to Damian's private residence after the gallery opening—a gesture that should have felt like a victory but instead left her feeling uneasy.
She glanced over her shoulder, through the floor-to-ceiling windows that separated the balcony from the lavish living room. Damian was inside, pouring two glasses of whiskey at the sleek, modern bar. His movements were smooth, deliberate, and every inch of him exuded power and control. Evelyn's stomach twisted as she watched him, her mind racing with conflicting emotions.
She had gotten closer to him than she ever expected, but at what cost? Every moment she spent in his presence felt like walking a tightrope, one misstep away from disaster. And yet, there was something about him—something magnetic and intoxicating—that made it impossible to pull away.
"You're going to catch a cold out there," Damian's voice called from behind her, pulling her from her thoughts.
Evelyn turned, forcing a smile as she stepped back inside. "I needed some air," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
Damian handed her a glass of whiskey, his fingers brushing against hers in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. "You've been quiet tonight," he observed, his piercing blue eyes studying her. "Something on your mind?"
Evelyn took a sip of the whiskey, the warmth spreading through her chest. "Just thinking," she said, her gaze drifting to the city below. "It's… overwhelming, sometimes. All of this."
Damian followed her gaze, his expression unreadable. "The city has a way of swallowing people whole," he said, his voice low. "But not you. You're different."
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. She turned to face him, her brow furrowing. "What makes you say that?"
Damian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You're not like the others," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't care about the money, the power, the status. You see through it all. That's rare."
Evelyn's breath caught in her throat. She searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all she saw was sincerity. It was disarming, and for a moment, she forgot why she was there—forgot the danger, the lies, the mission.
But then the image of Victor's bloodstained jacket flashed in her mind, and the spell was broken. She took a step back, her grip tightening on the glass. "I should go," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's getting late."
Damian's expression darkened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sleek business card. "If you ever need anything," he said, handing it to her, "call me."
Evelyn took the card, her fingers brushing against his. She nodded, unable to trust her voice, and turned to leave. As she stepped into the elevator, she glanced back at Damian, who stood in the doorway, watching her with an intensity that made her heart race.
The ride down to the lobby felt like an eternity. Evelyn leaned against the wall of the elevator, her mind spinning. She had gotten closer to Damian than she ever expected, but it had come at a cost. The lines between her mission and her emotions were blurring, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep them separate.
When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out into the lobby, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The doorman nodded at her as she passed, but she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the night over and over.
As she stepped outside, the cool night air hit her like a slap, bringing her back to reality. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number, her hands trembling.
"Lucas," she said when the call connected, her voice low and urgent. "I need to see you. Now