Chapter 6 Six

Damian Sinclair didn't believe in ghosts.

But as he watched Katherine stride toward him, her expensive heels clicking against the marble floor, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was nothing more than a specter from a past he had long since buried.

Or tried to.

"Katherine," he said, his voice carefully void of emotion.

She smiled-a practiced, polished expression that once had the power to undo him. Not anymore. "It's been a while."

Not long enough.

His grip tightened around his champagne flute as he studied her. She was as beautiful as ever, with her flawless skin and cold, calculating eyes. The same woman who had once promised him forever-only to betray him when it mattered most.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

Her smile didn't waver. "Is that any way to greet an old lover?"

"We're not lovers," he corrected, his voice sharp. "Not anymore."

She sighed dramatically, reaching for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "Still so cold, Damian. You used to be different with me."

That was before he had seen the truth.

Before he had caught her in another man's arms, whispering false promises while still wearing his engagement ring.

Katherine had never loved him. Not really. She had loved the idea of him-the power, the wealth, the prestige that came with being Damian Sinclair's fiancée. And when something more convenient had come along, she hadn't hesitated to betray him.

Damian had learned his lesson.

He didn't make the same mistake twice.

"You shouldn't be here," he said coolly.

Katherine took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flickering toward the crowd. "Why? Afraid I'll ruin your reputation?"

"I don't care enough about you for that."

That got a reaction. A flash of irritation crossed her features before she smoothed it over. "You used to," she murmured, stepping closer. "You loved me once, Damian."

He didn't deny it. What was the point? The past couldn't be erased.

But it sure as hell wouldn't be repeated.

"Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work," he told her. "You and I-we're done. We were done a long time ago."

She tilted her head, studying him. "And yet, you're still single."

He smirked. "Maybe I learned my lesson."

Katherine's lips pressed together for a brief second before she shifted tactics. "And what about that woman you were dancing with?"

Isla.

Damian didn't react, but she saw the flicker in his expression. She always had been good at reading him, even when he didn't want her to.

"Interesting," she mused, taking another sip of champagne. "She's beautiful. But you're wasting your time."

He finally turned to fully face her, his voice like steel. "You don't know anything about her."

Katherine's smile turned saccharine. "I know she's not right for you."

His jaw clenched. "And you were?"

For a split second, something flashed in her eyes-something almost vulnerable. Almost.

Then it was gone, replaced by the same cold ambition that had always driven her. "I made a mistake," she admitted, her voice softer now. "I know that. I was young, foolish. But I loved you, Damian. I still do."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You don't love anyone but yourself."

She reached for his hand, and for the first time, there was something raw in her gaze. "Let me prove it to you."

Damian pulled away.

"You already did."

The words were final.

And so was his decision.

Katherine stared at him for a long moment before forcing another smile. "Well, then. Enjoy your evening."

She walked away, her head held high. But for the first time since he had met her, she didn't look quite as sure of herself.

Damian exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

He should have felt satisfied. Victorious.

Instead, all he could think about was her.

Isla.

The woman he should be avoiding.

The woman he couldn't seem to stay away from.

And the woman who, despite everything, might just be the one to undo him all over again.

The air between them crackled with tension.

Isla had known this would happen the moment she let Damian pull her back into his world. He had always been a force too powerful to resist, a dangerous temptation that left destruction in his wake.

And yet, here she was.

Standing in his penthouse again.

She wrapped her arms around herself as if that would create some kind of barrier between them, but it was useless. Damian had never needed to touch her to make her feel like she was already his.

He leaned against the bar, watching her with an intensity that made her pulse race. His dark suit was still perfectly tailored, not a single wrinkle betraying the weight of the tension pressing between them.

"Say something," she finally whispered, breaking the silence.

Damian's eyes gleamed under the dim lights. "What do you want me to say, Isla?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. A warning.

She swallowed. "I shouldn't have come here."

"But you did."

The words hung between them, undeniable.

She exhaled sharply, turning away to stare at the city skyline through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was breathtaking-glittering lights stretching endlessly into the night. But it did nothing to calm the storm inside her.

"This isn't smart."

Damian chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing. "Since when have we ever been smart about this?"

She hated how right he was.

Turning to face him, she searched his expression for some kind of answer, some indication of what he was thinking. But Damian had always been impossible to read.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice almost a plea.

Damian pushed off the bar and stalked toward her. Each step deliberate, slow, until he was standing so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"I think you already know."

Her breath hitched.

Because she did.

His fingers reached out, brushing against her wrist, a barely-there touch that sent shivers down her spine. She should have stepped away, should have put distance between them.

But she didn't.

Instead, she let him tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Because she didn't want him to stop.

Damian's lips hovered just above hers, teasing, daring her to make the next move. And when she didn't pull away, he took what he wanted.

The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet.

It was fire.

A claim.

And Isla had never felt more lost.

Or more found.

She gripped his jacket, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing in a world that was constantly shifting beneath her feet.

Damian deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down her waist, pulling her against him.

Every part of her screamed to push him away.

But she clung to him instead.

She felt the moment restraint snapped inside him. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip, as if daring her to tell him no.

She didn't.

Instead, she pressed closer, gasping against his lips as he devoured her, claimed her. It was desperate, reckless-everything it always was between them.

A soft moan slipped from her lips, and Damian growled in response, lifting her off the ground. In seconds, her back hit the wall, his body pressing against hers, solid, unyielding.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that-lost in the heat, in the hunger, in everything they had tried to deny.

But reality had a cruel way of shattering even the most intoxicating moments.

Damian stiffened first, his breathing heavy, his forehead resting against hers.

"This is dangerous," he murmured.

Isla closed her eyes. "I know."

"We can't do this."

Her fingers tightened around his jacket. "But we already are."

Damian let out a rough breath, stepping back, creating space between them that felt impossible to bear.

His hands dropped to his sides, clenched into fists. "You need to leave, Isla."

The words sliced through her like a blade.

She sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Is that what you want?"

Silence.

A heartbeat.

Another.

Then, "No."

The confession was so quiet she almost missed it.

But she heard it. And it was enough.

She reached out, fingertips grazing his wrist. "Then stop pushing me away."

His jaw clenched, a war waging behind his stormy eyes.

Finally, he shook his head. "I can't."

Her chest tightened.

Before she could respond, Damian turned away, shoving a hand through his dark hair as if trying to regain control. "Go home, Isla. Before we do something we can't take back."

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

She had walked away from him before.

This time, she wouldn't.

But for now, she gave him what he asked for.

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the door.

And this time, Damian didn't stop her.

Yet she knew, deep down, this wasn't the end.

It was only the beginning.