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PROLOGUE
DAMON
The first timeI see her, my cold heart stops.
And it’s not hard to see why.
Every single aspect of the girl appears to have been meticulously crafted to perfection: from her stunning, flowing platinum blonde hair, a striking contrast against her flawlessly fair complexion, to her form – slender, and yet bewitchingly endowed with alluring, delectable, impossible curves that speak of an underlying athleticism.
But it is her eyes that really get to me. One eye sky blue and the other eye grass green. An out-of-the-ordinary combination that is so damn striking - and so damn enticing - to a man like me.
A man who likes his womenunique.
And that’s what makes my cold heart stop.
She must be in her early twenties at most. Clearly an adult, but still so very young. College age, I bet. But she has a fiery look about her that hints at a maturity beyond her years; a hidden resilience behind her mixed-color eyes.
Oh, yes. A resilience very, very unique in a girl this young and beautiful.
And I am a man who really,reallylikes that.
She has clearly been eagerly waiting for me to emerge from the elevator doors: sitting on one of the plush leather chairs in front of my personal secretary’s desk that face the elevator. It is exactly the right place for her to catch me when I arrive at my office.
I think it is fair to say it seems like the perfect girlwantsto find me.
Damn. That certainly does titillating things to me.
At the very moment I walk out of the elevator doors and my cold heart stops, she rises stylishly from her seat, and the very first word that graces my ears from her pretty mouth is none other than my own name.
“Damon Penmayne!”
I respond to her proclamation with a derisive curl of my lip. It’s an instinctive retort to a tone as cutting as the one she has employed against me - using my name with that noticeable venom in her voice. Nobody addresses me in such a manner and escapes my wrath.
Suppressing the icy grip that seizes me at the sight of the stunning girl, I feign nonchalance and stride purposefully into my office through the reception area. I glimpse my bodyguard rushing forward to deal with the pretty intruder as I pass, just as he is paid handsomely to do.
And I desperately try to put the girl out of my mind.
Keep moving, Damon. You don’t have time for this. Restart that cold heart of yours.
Getting all shook over a woman is typically not something I strive to do. A totalstranger, I might add. And I certainly do not believe I am one to partake in choking up in front of a cute face and pretty lips. It might be crude to say, but women, to me, tend to be mereplaythingsto have a goodtime with. Pawns to be used by rich and powerful men similar to myself, in just the same manner in how I use my bodyguard to deal with angry intruders who try to confront me in my office’s reception.
Nothing to spend a moment’s thought on.
Sure, sometimes I indulge in casual, no-strings-attached fun with someone I know I will never encounter again, but that is theonlyemotional investment I dare make in the opposite gender.
But that girl waiting for me in the other room really did something to me when I saw her. Something I have never experienced before...
Why did my entire body freeze when I saw her?
Why am I still thinking about her?
This is so unlike me. It truly is.
For fuck’s sake, I’ve got to snap the hell out of this insanity before I lose myself.
With my office door safely shut behind me, I stand in front of my ceiling-to-floor window overlooking the New York City skyline and take in a long, meditative breath.
Remember who you are, Damon. Don’t be weak. Forget that strange girl outside the door...
