Claire woke up to the sharp morning light stabbing through the curtains. Her head throbbed, a dull reminder of last night. She turned slowly, trying to make sense of her surroundings—and froze.
The room was unfamiliar. Expensive. Sterile, yet somehow warm. A silk sheet clung to her skin, and for a moment, panic rose in her chest.
She wasn't at Erin's villa
Sitting up, memories trickled back. The drinks at the rooftop bar, the way his hand had brushed hers, the tension that had hung in the air all night. And then… him. Damien.
Damien. Mysterious. Infuriatingly attractive. And now… he was sitting across the room, a cup of coffee in his hand, watching her.
"Good morning," he said, voice calm, measured. But the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was holding back amusement—or something darker.
Claire swallowed, trying to ignore the pounding in her temples. "Where… where am I?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You're at my place," he replied simply. No apology, no explanation. Just… facts.
Her mind raced. This was the man she'd let herself get carried away with. The man she barely knew. And yet—last night had happened.
Her cheeks burned. "We… last night… I—"
"Don't worry," he interrupted, setting his coffee down. "You're fine. I made sure of it."
Her stomach twisted. He said it so casually, as if the night hadn't been a storm of desire, confusion, and half-spoken promises.
She glanced around the room, trying to find some sense of normalcy. The expensive furniture, the minimalist decor, the gentle roar of the waves outside—everything screamed luxury. Everything screamed him.
Damien stood then, stretching casually, his shirt still slightly crumpled. "You should get dressed," he said, voice low. "We can talk after."
Claire hesitated, torn between fleeing and facing the man whose presence still made her pulse quicken. She picked up her clothes, hands trembling slightly.
As she dressed, she caught herself staring at him. He wasn't smiling, but there was something in his eyes—something she couldn't read. Attraction? Regret? Power?
"I… I can't just stay here," she whispered, more to herself than him.
He tilted his head, studying her. "Of course not. You can leave anytime."
But when she looked at the door, she realised leaving wasn't as simple as she thought. Because last night wasn't just a blur of passion—it was a collision of worlds she didn't fully understand yet. And Damien… Damien wasn't a man who let anything go easily.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other. No words. Just the quiet aftermath of something neither of them had expected—but both of them had wanted.
Claire took a deep breath. One night. That was all it was supposed to be. But as she glanced at him, she couldn't shake the feeling that one night was never going to be enough.