Heels and a Smirk

Damien's POV

I sat at the head of the conference table, surrounded by voices that blurred into background noise. The room buzzed with tension—executives shifting papers, scrolling through slides, pitching ideas—but none of it held my attention.

Not when the only thing on my mind was her.

She was locked up in my house right now. Isabella. The girl who had once given me a night that changed everything—and now looked at me like a monster.

If only she remembered. If only she knew what that night in Colorado had meant to me. The way her body responded to mine without hesitation. The way she let me take her—claim her—over and over until we collapsed into each other, breathless and raw.

The things I did to her that night. Fuck.

I had never known that kind of satisfaction before. Never. Not even with my history with women.

Every woman before her had felt… lacking. I always held back—restrained the darkest parts of myself. Until Isabella. She let me unravel her completely. Let me wreck her. Let me break the layers of her morality.

She let me explore new things that only existed as fantasies in my mind with her. And it was her first time? Fuck.

That drove me insane.

I searched for her when I returned to the city weeks later. But it was as though she vanished into thin air. No trace.

How could she not remember? How could she forget something so beautiful, something etched into every cell of my being? That night was burned into my senses. Her voice. Her moans. Her trembling limbs. The way her nails carved trails down my back.

Right now thinking about it, I could feel her fingers dragging across my back. A deep groan dying in my throat.

It wasn’t just sex. It was a claim. A vow.

I didn't sleep a wink. I sat quietly, watching her sleep all through the night.

And this morning, even through her tears and pleas, her taste hadn't changed. Her body remembered me even if her mind didn’t.

The way she trembled under my tongue… I felt her walls clench. That wasn’t just fear. That was familiarity. That was longing buried deep beneath the panic.

The way she responds to me—it’s intoxicating. The way her body arches into mine, as if molded to fit me, like we were carved from the same fire and destined to burn together—it does things to my mind I can’t control. It short-circuits every rational thought, blurs the line between want and need until all I can focus on is her.

Every gasp she lets slip, every unconscious tilt of her hips, every time her skin brushes mine with a hunger she won’t admit—it unravels me. Makes me wild. Makes me forget the world outside of us even exists.

With her, it’s not just about lust. It’s something deeper, primal… inevitable. Like the universe itself is pushing us together, rewriting the rules just to make room for us. And I can’t stop chasing that feeling—even if it drives me mad.

Still, her reaction this morning had shaken me.

I didn't mean to scare her like that. I just wanted to remind her—to pull her back into the place where we once built together. But now… she was terrified. And that stung. Worse than I cared to admit.

“Damien!” Olivia’s voice sliced through the fog of my thoughts, sharp and annoyed.

I blinked, my cock still semi-hard under the table. Every board member was staring at me like I just sprouted horns.

“What?” I asked, tone clipped.

Olivia leaned in close, lips curled with irritation. “I don't care about your fucking wet dreams, but I'll suggest you tame your cock and listen. This acquisition is important.”

I exhaled sharply and shifted in my seat, adjusting myself with a scowl. Damn Isabella. Damn those eyes. Damn her body.

“Continue,” I muttered, waving a hand toward the projector.

The presentation resumed, details flooding the screen—slides filled with analytics, merger timelines, legal forecasts. The acquisition was of a smaller tech firm—one with potential, but drowning in debt. Buying them out now could give my company leverage in AI security, but it was risky.

I tapped a pen against the table, trying to focus. Numbers, projections, reports—none of them compared to the curve of Isabella’s hips or the way her breath caught when I bit her thigh or the way her breasts felt as I kneaded them, her peaches hard. Ready.

I forced the thought away.

“I believe the benefits outweigh the risks,” a younger board member was saying. “But we’ll need insight into the company’s pending litigation and code framework before signing anything.”

Mr Davidson stepped in, clearing his throat. “That’s why we invited a specialist,” he said, glancing at me with a polite nod.

I frowned. “Specialist? No one told me about that.”

“I did,” Olivia replied curtly. “I sent you a message last night. And I reminded you this morning. Didn't you check your inbox?”

I let out a sigh of irritation, pinching the bridge of my nose. The last thing I need right now is Olivia,

nagging the shit out of me. “Fine. Bring them in.”

The room fell into silence as the door creaked open. The rhythmic click of heels echoed across the polished tile, each step deliberate and confident.

I looked up, visibly bored out of my mind.

But then, the world slowed.

A chill snaked down my spine, curling into my gut. The air around me shifted—dense, suffocating—as my eyes landed on the figure in the doorway.

Bright gray eyes locked onto mine. Cool. Calculated. With a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

My fingers clenched the armrest of my chair. This cannot be happening.

Why now?!

She stood there—poised, powerful, haunting. The one ghost I hadn’t expected to see again.

She walked in slowly, and for a brief second, our eyes held a storm of unfinished business.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as a single name thundered in my mind like a gunshot.

But I said nothing.

I just watched.

As the past stepped into the room—wearing heels and a smirk.