Page 29 of Damian’s Conquest

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Naomi parked in her assigned spot underneath her apartment building, and wanted to slap herself. Why the hell had she let herself be talked into taking Damian back to her flat? Was she suicidal? If Damian was behind the satanic blood cult that she now had every reason to believe existed, then wasn’t she putting herself in danger? But the moment he’d put his arms around her and pressed her to his sinful body, she’d lost the ability to think clearly.

Annoyed at herself, she locked the car and went upstairs to the lobby. She’d have to make the best of this situation. Perhaps she could get information out of him after all. There was such a thing as pillow talk. As long as she acted normally, he wouldn’t find out that she suspected that there was something evil going on at the Mezzanine. And there was always a chance that he wasn’t involved, that maybe one of his employees was doing something nefarious behind Damian’s back. But if she was honest with herself, she’d admit that it was unrealistic that Damian had no idea what was going on in the club. It was just wishful thinking so that she didn’t have to admit to herself that she had the hots for a depraved criminal.

In the lobby of her building, she took a deep breath, then let Damian in. There was no elevator, so they walked up to the third floor.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked casually.

“Seven years. It’s rent-controlled. I can’t really afford to give it up. I’ll never find anything that cheap again.” She hoped he couldn’t sense how nervous she was.

“I get it.” When they entered the flat, Naomi switched on the light, and Damian let his eyes roam. “It’s cozy.”

She forced a chuckle, trying to pretend that she didn’t feel the tension between them, and closed the door. “It’s tiny.”

It was a rather small one-bedroom flat with a bathroom from the fifties, and a kitchen that was in dire need of updating.

“So, what would you like to drink?” she asked.

“What do you have?”

“Beer, wine, and there might be some vodka left.”

“Wine is fine.”

Naomi went into the kitchen and opened the fridge to pull out a bottle of white wine, when she felt Damian behind her, his hot breath at her ear. She shivered involuntarily. Was it fear she felt? Or something else?

“So, what do you do when you don’t seduce nightclub managers?” he asked in a far too seductive tone.

She closed the refrigerator door and set the bottle onto the counter, trying to buy herself some time to answer. She knew she couldn’t lie outright, and had to stick to the truth as closely as possible.

“I work for the Chronicle.”

“You’re a reporter?” he asked, surprise coloring his voice.

“I’m basically a glorified copy editor,” she lied. “It’s nothing exciting. But it pays the bills. And the hours are good.” She reached for two wine glasses and poured the white wine, before handing Damian one glass.

“I see,” he said with an odd expression on his face.

In the living room, Naomi took a seat on the couch, expecting Damian to take the armchair, but instead, he joined her on the sofa. She sipped from her drink, and watched Damian do the same. Then he took her glass from her hand and put both hers and his on the coffee table.

A moment later, he scooted closer and turned to her, one hand behind her on the backrest of the sofa, the other on her thigh. The contact sent a scorching flame through her core. His blue eyes were piercing when he pinned her with them. What was he up to now?

“So what were you really doing in my office last night?”

Her heartbeat kicked up. “I told you already. It was a dare.”

“So you weren’t snooping around in there?”

Shit! Hadn’t she dispelled his suspicions last night? Why was he bringing this up now? She had to counter boldly, or he would steamroll her. She narrowed her eyes. “Are you accusing all the women you sleep with of spying on you?” She pushed his hand off her leg.

“No, only the ones who try to seduce me as a means to an end.”

“Excuse me? You think I seduced you?” She shook her head, letting outrage color her voice. “That’s laughable. May I remind you that you were the one who practically… uhm… who touched me on the dance floor? And you think I seduced you? And why would I do that?”

“To steal my keys.”