CHAPTER 20 — DINNER WITH THE DEVIL
The city flashed past the windows as Derek drove, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh as though trying to hold himself together.
Eva sat beside him, her heartbeat still thrumming from the rooftop scare.
But as they turned into a quiet, upscale district, her pulse changed—slower, deeper, warmer.
"Where are we going?" she asked softly.
Derek didn't look at her.
"You'll see."
His voice was low. Controlled.
But beneath it… something simmered.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Desire held on a tight leash.
---
He pulled into a private underground garage and stepped out, circling the car to open her door.
Always so composed.
Always so in control.
But when his hand brushed hers to help her out, his fingers lingered a moment too long.
"Come," he murmured.
An elevator led them up to a floor so quiet Eva wondered if the entire building belonged to him.
When the doors opened, she realized—
It did.
A private penthouse.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
Soft lights.
A long dining table with only two plates set.
A private chef stood at the far end of the room, nodding respectfully.
Eva blinked. "You planned this?"
"Not originally."
He slipped his hands into his pockets.
"But tonight changed things."
Changed what?
Her stomach fluttered.
She followed him to the table, trying not to stare at the view sparkling behind him—or at the man himself.
She failed at both.
When the chef exited discreetly, Derek poured wine into her glass.
A deep red, smooth and fragrant.
"Relax," he said softly.
"You're safe here."
His reassurance did more to unwind her nerves than the wine ever could.
But safety wasn't the problem.
Being near him was.
When he took his seat across from her, the room tightened—just them, the scent of spices, warm lights, and tension thick enough to taste.
"Eat," Derek said gently. "You haven't had a real meal since… earlier."
Earlier.
The garage.
Isabella.
The stalker.
She swallowed. "Are you always this protective?"
He paused, fork halfway to his lips.
"No," he said.
"Never."
The word landed like a touch.
Heat curled low in her stomach.
---
Dinner started calm—small bites, soft conversation—but quickly shifted into something else.
Something hotter.
Something that felt like a thin line between flirting and touching.
"You've been quiet," Derek said, leaning back in his chair. "Thinking?"
"Yes," Eva admitted. "About… everything."
He tilted his head. "Everything?"
"You. That woman in the garage. The danger. The shadows following you."
Her voice trembled.
"And me being dragged into it."
Derek's jaw flexed.
"I didn't want you to know any of this yet."
"Yet?" she breathed.
He froze.
That one word told her more than anything he'd said so far.
"If you didn't want me to know," she continued, "you could've just kept your distance."
A slow smirk curved his lips.
"Could I?"
Her breath caught.
His eyes dropped—
To her mouth.
Her throat.
The line of her dress.
Heat shot through her.
"No," she whispered.
"Exactly."
---
The conversation danced between teasing and tension, between truths and innuendo.
He poured her more wine.
"You're staring," he said suddenly.
Eva choked. "I—I wasn't—"
"Yes you were."
His voice was amused, warm.
"Why?"
"Because you're—" She stopped herself.
Derek's eyes gleamed. "Say it."
"No."
"Eva," he murmured, leaning closer, "Beautiful things don't have to bite their tongues."
Her cheeks burned.
"You're impossible."
"I've been called worse."
His voice brushed over her skin.
"And you?" he asked. "Why are you staring at me tonight?"
She swallowed.
"It's not just tonight."
He stilled.
The air pulsed between them.
Then he stood up.
Walked around the table.
And took the seat right next to her.
Close.
Too close.
She could feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne, feel every inch of the tension he was no longer hiding.
"You make it hard to control myself," he said quietly.
Her breath shuddered out of her. "Why control yourself at all?"
Something flickered in his eyes—pure, unfiltered want—before he exhaled slowly, grounding himself.
"Because once I touch you," he said, voice low and sinful, "I won't stop."
She swallowed hard.
Heat pooled deep inside her.
"I didn't ask you to stop," she whispered.
Derek's eyes darkened.
One of his hands lifted—hesitant.
Hovering just inches from her cheek.
"Eva…"
The sound of her name on his lips sent electricity shooting through her.
His thumb finally touched her skin.
Soft.
Slow.
Devastating.
She leaned into it without thinking.
"Tell me to step back," he breathed.
"I won't," she said.
His hand slid lower—down her jaw, her neck—barely touching but still burning her.
"You're playing with fire."
"Maybe I want to."
His breath hitched.
And that was when Derek Blackwell—controlled, unreadable Derek—lost a piece of his restraint.
He leaned in, lips inches from hers.
"Then let me give you one warning," he whispered against her mouth.
Her pulse stopped.
"When I want something…"
His nose brushed hers.
"I don't take it gently."
Her breath trembled.
"I'm not asking you to be gentle."
A soft, dangerous sound escaped him—half growl, half surrender.
He tilted her chin up—
But before their lips touched—
A harsh vibration buzzed from his pocket.
He froze.
Eva's heart crashed back down, painful and cold.
Not again.
Derek pulled out his phone.
The screen lit his face in a cold glow.
And then everything inside him changed.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes sharpened.
The softness evaporated.
"What is it?" Eva whispered.
He didn't answer.
He stood abruptly, pacing toward the window.
"Derek?" Her voice rose. "Is it the stalker?"
"No," he said through clenched teeth.
"Then what—?"
He turned to her slowly.
And Eva's blood ran cold.
"It's Isabella," he said.
His voice was a mixture of rage and something darker.
"She's been attacked."
Eva's breath caught.
"Is she—?"
"Alive," Derek said.
"For now."
For now.
Two words that told her everything.
Danger wasn't circling anymore.
It had struck.
And it wasn't done.
He grabbed his jacket.
"Derek!" Eva stood. "You're going after her?"
"I have to."
His eyes met hers—soft for a split second.
"But Eva… you can't stay here alone."
Her pulse stopped. "Then I'll come with you."
"No."
His voice was firm.
Final.
A wall.
He stepped closer, grabbing her shoulders.
"Listen to me," he said, intensity burning through every word. "Whoever did this to her—he's getting closer. To me. To anyone near me."
Her heart pounded.
"Meaning me."
"Meaning us," he whispered.
Then—
A beep sounded from the door.
An alert.
Derek's head snapped toward it.
Someone was outside.
Someone had reached the penthouse.
Eva's stomach flipped.
The danger wasn't in the city.
It wasn't following him.
It was here.