The day After

I woke up to the warmth of Damian's body beside me, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the sharp angles of his face, accentuating the rugged beauty that had captivated me.

His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled, his lips curling upward. The warmth in his gaze made my heart skip a beat.

"Good morning," he whispered, his voice husky, low, and seductive.

"Morning," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, still laced with the remnants of sleep.

Damian pulled me close, his lips brushing against mine. The gentle touch reignited the flames of last night's passion.

"Last night was incredible," he said, his eyes burning with desire, his voice filled with emotion.

I blushed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. But amidst the warmth, doubts crept in.

Was this real? Or was I blinded by desire?

Damian's fingers intertwined with mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"I want to make this work, Lisa," he said, his voice filled with conviction.

But I couldn't shake off the uncertainty.

"I want that too," I replied, my voice filled with emotion, I can't believe I bloated that out loud..Yet laced with hesitation.

Damian's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing my unease.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft.

I hesitated, unsure how to articulate my doubts.

Just then, Damian's phone buzzed, shattering the moment.

He groaned, reluctantly releasing me.

"I have to take this," he said, answering the call.

As he spoke, his expression changed, He seemed serious.

I slipped out of bed, grabbing my clothes and heading to the bathroom. The warm water cascaded down my skin, washing away the remnants of sleep. As I showered, my thoughts swirled with doubts and hopes, like the steam fogging the mirror.

When I emerged, Damian stood by the window, his back to me, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the morning light. The city skyline gleamed outside, a tapestry of steel and glass.

"Everything okay?" I asked, my voice tentative, barely above a whisper.

He turned, his expression guarded, his eyes narrowing slightly. The sharp angles of his face seemed to soften as he looked at me.

"Yes," he replied, his tone flat, but his voice still husky from sleep.

"Who was that?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued, my eyes narrowing slightly as I gazed into Damian's face.

Damian hesitated, his gaze drifting away for a moment before returning to mine, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"That was my office," he replied, his tone casual, his voice low and husky.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued, my brow furrowing slightly.

"Your office?" I repeated, my voice laced with curiosity, my words echoing through the quiet morning.

Damian nodded, his expression relaxed, his shoulders easing into the chair.

"I told my secretary to cancel all my meetings for today," he said, his words dripping with confidence. "I wanted to spend the day with you."

My lips curled into a gentle smile, a soft blush rising to my cheeks.

"Why would you do that?" I asked, my voice tinged with surprise, my eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Damian's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze intense, his pupils dilating.

"I wanted to make today about us," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "No distractions."

My heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice, my pulse quickening.

"And I also asked her to call your office," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact.

My brow furrowed, concern etched on my face.

"Why?" I asked.

Damian's smile hinted at possessiveness, his eyes gleaming.

"To inform them you won't be coming in today," he said.

My eyes widened, surprise mixed with unease.

"You did what?" I asked.

Damian's expression turned serious, his jaw clenched.

"You're with me now, Lisa," he said. "You don't need to work."

I felt a surge of surprise mixed with unease, my mind racing.

"Damian, I appreciate the thought," I said. "But I enjoy my job."

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"I thought you'd appreciate the freedom," he said.

I took a deep breath.

"Let's discuss this later, okay?" I suggested.

Damian nodded.

"Later."

The tension between us was palpable.

"Let's get breakfast," Damian suggested, changing the subject, his smile creeping onto his face.

We walked to the kitchen in silence, the only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator.

As we ate, Damian asked me about my favourite books and movies. I found myself opening up, sharing stories and laughter.

He listened intently, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Tell me about your family," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Damian's expression softened.

"My parents are amazing," he said. "They've always supported me, encouraged me to pursue my passions."

I smiled.

"That's wonderful," I replied.

Damian nodded.

"They're the reason I've achieved so much," he continued. "My father taught me the value of hard work, and my mother instilled in me compassion and empathy."

His love for his family was palpable.

"Are they involved in your business?" I asked.

Damian chuckled.

"My father likes to think he's still in charge," he said with a grin. "But I've learned to navigate his advice."

I sat there, stunned, listening to the man I once swore I'd never consider. Yet, here I was, enthralled by his words. A lingering hint of betrayal still gnawed at my conscience, Sophie's words echoing in my mind. But somehow, I couldn't shake the feeling that I deserved this - deserved him.

Was I truly changing my mind, or was this just a fleeting moment of weakness? The lines between doubt and desire blurred, leaving me questioning everything. Damian's presence, once unsettling, now felt strangely comforting.

I pondered, my thoughts swirling in confusion. Was I surrendering to my attraction of succumbing to momentary madness?.

********************

Damian's Pov

I gazed at Lisa, her radiant smile illuminating the room as she laughed at something I said. Her eyes sparkled like sapphires in the morning light, and her hair cascaded down her shoulders like a golden waterfall. Two months had passed since she'd begun to open up, and our connection had deepened, weaving a tapestry of trust and desire.

But beneath the surface, threats lingered, casting a shadow over our bliss.

James Parker's relentless messages still arrived, fueling my determination to protect Lisa. The memory of his menacing words seared my mind, and my jaw clenched in response.

My phone buzzed, snapping me back to reality. I glanced at the screen – Freedman.

"Hey, Damian," Freedman's voice was low and serious. "I've got an update on Luke's case and those threats."

My instincts kicked in. "What's the latest?"

"Still receiving threats from James Parker?" Freedman asked.

“Yeah man”..

I've dug up some new leads on Luke's death. I think I'll have to show you in person."

I gritted my teeth, frustration simmering. "Agreed. When can we meet?"

"How about this weekend?" Freedman suggested. "Sunday afternoon, maybe?"

"I'll clear my schedule," I replied.

"Good. I'll bring everything I've gathered so far."

"Thanks, Freedman. I owe you."

"No need to thank me, Damian. We'll get this sorted."

The line went dead.

I gripped my phone, my fingers tightening around it as if crushing the threat itself. The cool glass of my penthouse window provided a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me.

"Damian, what's wrong?" Lisa asked, noticing my tension. Her voice was laced with concern, her brow furrowed.

I forced a smile, attempting to reassure her. "Nothing, just work," I replied, my tone light.

Lisa's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing my unease. Her intuition was sharpening, and I knew I couldn't keep the truth hidden forever.

I knew I had to tell her soon.

But not yet.

Not when things were finally falling into place.

I drove Lisa off and headed to the office..

As I stepped into my office, memories of Luke flooded my mind. Five years since his death, and the pain still lingered. The accident they'd called it, but I knew better. Murder, plain and simple.

I'd vowed to find his killer, no matter the cost. Freedman's updates kept me going, even when leads turned cold.

My gaze fell on the framed photo of Luke and me, taken just months before his death. We'd built an empire together, and his loss left a gaping hole.

"Justice, Luke," I whispered. "I promise."

Lucia's soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Your coffee, Mr. Sparks."

"Thanks, Lucia."

As she handed me the cup, her fingers brushed mine. I withdrew, avoiding eye contact.

"Anything else, Lucia?"

"No, sir. Your schedule's clear until the Smith meeting."

I nodded, dismissing her.

The moment she left, my focus returned to Luke's case. Freedman's call earlier hinted at progress.

Sunday's meeting couldn't come soon enough.

I sipped my coffee, eyes locked on the city skyline, my mind racing with possibilities.

Who killed Luke? And why?