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My footsteps fell quietly on the polished floor as I headed into the moodily lit caverns of the Fairchild penthouse. Lounge furniture lined the hallway, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. One thing I’d noticed about this place was that you could pause nearly anywhere and just take in the view. Maybe that had been one of the most important things for them. Lord knew this view was worth whatever price tag they’d paid.
At almost seven p.m., Manhattan was already wrapped in the soft blanket of another autumn night. The endless sparkling lights and skyscrapers beyond the thick panes of glass stole my focus. I stumbled, nearly pitching forward. I gasped, steadying myself, staring at the plate of food.
Keep it together, Jessa. You’re the one who keeps it together.
It had always been that way. I was the one making sure my mom woke up on time to get work after her late nights partying. I was the one who’d written my ex’s resume so he could get the job he wanted.
Now I was the one bringing dinner to the man who couldn’t remember to eat.
Light angled out into the hallway from under the workout room door. From out here, I could hear the muted undertones of Damian’s workout—the clank of weights, the breathy grunts. I swallowed hard, steeling myself for whatever I might see on the other side, and pushed the door open.
A wall of mirrors was the first thing I noticed.
And then Damian himself, straddling a bench, facing the mirrors, his broad chest on full display to me. All the air in my lungs evaporated as I beheld him. His chestnut hair was mussed and sweat-stained, and I could not physically force myself to look away from the ripple of his shoulders. He wore only red gym shorts; his stomach crinkled as he bent down for a bottle of water. As he did, his gaze found mine in the mirror.
“Jessa.”
He could barely disguise the silentoh, shitin front of my name. I forced myself to smile, approaching on wooden legs. The testosterone in the room was so thick I could barely breathe. Or maybe that was my own attraction to this man, slowly squeezing my neck until I couldn’t inhale.
“Damian. I wanted to bring you dinner.” I swallowed again, my mouth totally dry. God, why was I doing this again? “Axel told me you didn’t plan on joining, but that’s ridiculous. Look at what Butch made.” I stepped closer, showing him the plate. “You can’t not eat this. It’s practically a sin.”
His jaw flexed as he watched me, his gaze sliding to the food. Then he looked away. “Have you eaten?”
I shook my head. His gaze was on me in the mirror. “Not yet.”
“Why don’t you go eat?”
“You haven’t eaten all day. I know you haven’t. I got you to swallow one little donut and that was it. Now you’re in here burning all these calories. You need a homecooked meal.”
The start of a smile curled at a corner of his mouth.
“Seriously, it’s not right to miss out on a meal this good. Look at this crazy bed of microgreens, Damian. Jeremy would flip his shit if he saw this and you’re just gonna act like it’s not piping hot in front of you?”
His expression softened. He met my gaze in the mirror again, then slowly turned to face me for real. The width of his chest stole my breath again—when would it not?—and he reached out for the plate.
“You’re probably right.”
I handed it off, feeling slightly victorious. Okay, a lot victorious. “I am right.”
His smile widened by an inch, crooked and glorious in its genuineness. “You tend to be right, don’t you?”
My heart raced, though I couldn’t say why. “That sounds like a trap if I agree.”
“I’ve known you for over two decades. I’m just speaking based on experience,” he said, his gaze washing over the plate of food in his hands.
“I’d like to think I’m usually right,” I admitted. “Maybe not about everything, but I’m at least right about the fact that a genius like you needs to eat some damn protein if he wants to keep changing the world.”
He laughed softly, but it sounded sad.
“And listen,” I went on, that white wine still blazing through my veins. I took a seat next to him on the bench press, since clearly I was no longer making rational choices. I’d brought the man gourmet mac and cheese during a workout session. Who did that? Drunk women who needed any excuse to see their personal hottest man in the universe, that’s who. “I’m right about something else.”
“What’s that?” His gritty voice scraped over me, and when he tilted his head to look at me, heat shot to my core. Suddenly I was lost in the moss green abyss of his gaze. We were two feet apart, but we might as well have been humping. This was just as erotic as hanging out with him on my father’s couch back in the day.
“I’m right about the fact that you should tell me what’s bothering you,” I said, trying to keep the snappy, lighthearted air I’d come in with. But it was hard to keep my bearings; I felt like I was wilting under the intensity of his gaze. I could read so much in his stare. But who knew if it was actually there?
Damian opened his mouth to respond, but I barreled onward. “I know you got some hard news today. Axel and Cora even confirmed it. You can tell me, you know. I want to help.”
Damian’s jaw started flexing, but his gaze didn’t waver from mine. He finally shook his head, looking away. “You can’t help. Sorry.”
