Chapter 8 The kiss that could break us

The penthouse was quiet, too quiet for Selena's liking. The press conference had ended hours ago, but the weight of what had transpired lingered like a storm cloud over her head. She could still hear the questions echoing in her mind. The cameras, the way Damien had stood beside her-unwavering, composed, unshaken by the chaos. Was this how he always played it? Detached, cold, as if nothing affected him?

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced at it. It was a text from her father.

"Get it together, Selena. There's no room for mistakes now. Keep him close. Control the narrative."

She swallowed hard, throwing the phone aside. Her father's demands weighed heavily on her, but it wasn't the first time. Her entire life had been one long game of strategy and manipulation. Her family had built their empire this way-on secrets, on lies, on power.

But as she stood in the quiet of the penthouse, the sound of her own heartbeat loud in her ears, she couldn't help but feel like she was playing a losing hand.

The door to the penthouse opened with a soft click, and Damien stepped inside. He looked every bit the part of the powerful CEO-dark suit, expensive watch, a look of someone who had the world at his feet.

But when he saw her, something flickered in his eyes-something raw, something dangerous.

He closed the door behind him and stood still for a moment, just watching her. "You okay?"

Selena's lips tightened. She didn't answer him at first. "I should've known. All this... the marriage, the contract-it's all part of your game, isn't it?"

Damien didn't flinch. "You think I'm using you?"

"I know you are," she shot back. "You're not the type of man to just let things happen. You control everything."

He took a step toward her, his gaze never leaving hers. "I don't control you."

"You're trying to," she snapped, stepping back, though the space between them didn't feel like enough. She could still feel the heat of his presence, still hear the low rasp of his voice, the way his words cut through her defenses.

"I'm not trying to control you," he said, voice low, his tone almost coaxing. "I'm trying to understand you."

"Understand me?" she laughed bitterly, crossing her arms. "I'm not a puzzle for you to solve, Damien. I'm not some project."

"Then what are you?" he asked, his voice so soft it almost made her second-guess herself.

She didn't know how to answer that. She wasn't just a pawn. She wasn't just a tool. But she was here, in this marriage, for a reason she didn't fully understand herself.

"I'm here because you wanted me here," she said finally, her voice shaking slightly. "And now I'm stuck."

"You're not stuck," he said, his voice a little too intense for comfort. "You chose to be here."

She flinched, hating that he was right. This had been her choice-her decision, whether it was driven by duty or the pull of her own curiosity about him. Either way, she was here.

Damien moved closer, closing the distance between them, and for a moment, she thought she might step back, but she didn't. She couldn't. She was frozen.

"Tell me, Selena," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Do you want to run? Or do you want to stay?"

Her throat tightened, her chest rising and falling with the beat of her heart. She didn't answer him right away. She couldn't.

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing her arm, sending a shock of warmth through her. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters.

She swallowed hard. "You don't get to control me, Damien."

He smiled, but it wasn't the usual confident smirk. It was something softer, more dangerous. "Then stop pretending like you don't want to be controlled."

The words hung in the air between them, charged with an electricity that neither could ignore.

She should pull away, step back, get out of this room. But instead, she found herself stepping closer to him, drawn by the magnetic pull between them that seemed impossible to resist.

"Selena," he whispered, his voice a low rasp. "You're not as cold as you pretend to be."

Before she could respond, before she could stop herself, his hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger she wasn't prepared for.

For a moment, there was nothing but heat-raw, unfiltered, and desperate. His lips were soft, but there was an urgency behind them, a promise of something more, something dangerous.

Her body responded before her mind could catch up. She kissed him back, her hands pressing against his chest, feeling the solid heat of his body beneath her fingertips. But just as quickly as it had ignited, it was gone. He pulled back, his chest heaving, his lips barely an inch from hers.

"You can't keep doing this," she whispered, her breath shaky.

"You started this," he replied, voice hoarse. "You just don't want to admit it."

She couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say. All she knew was that in that kiss, she'd lost something-something important. And now, standing here with him, the world felt like it had shifted beneath her feet.

Damien reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek. "This game... it's not just business anymore, Selena. Not for me."

Her pulse raced as she stared at him, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. "Then what is it?"

He didn't answer.

But his eyes, dark and intense, told her everything she needed to know.