Chapter 10 - The Unraveling
The penthouse was silent. It was 3:00 AM, the adrenaline of the assassination attempt finally wearing off. Harper walked into the sprawling kitchen for a glass of water, dressed in an oversized t-shirt Damian had given her.
She froze. Damian was sitting at the marble island, his tuxedo shirt discarded on the floor. He was pouring whiskey over a nasty, jagged gash on his bicep—a wound he had sustained when diving to the floor, slicing his arm on the shattered ice sculpture.
“You’re bleeding,” Harper said, rushing over.
“It’s nothing,” he grunted, wincing as the alcohol hit the open cut.
“Don't be an idiot,” she scolded, grabbing a first-aid kit from the cabinet. “Sit still.”
Damian watched her as she cleaned the wound. Her touch was incredibly gentle, her brow furrowed in concentration. The proximity was intoxicating. He could smell the vanilla in her hair, feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
“Why did you do it, Harper?” Damian whispered, his voice rough. “Why did you push me out of the way? You hate what I do. You hate this world.”
Harper taped a bandage over the cut, her fingers lingering against his warm skin. She looked up, her blue eyes meeting his stormy gray ones.
“Because you saved my brother’s life,” she answered honestly. “And because underneath all this armor and money… you’re human.”
Damian reached up with his uninjured arm, cupping her face. His thumb traced her cheekbone. “I haven't been human in a very long time, Harper. But when I look at you, I want to be.”
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The tension that had been building between them since the diner finally snapped. Damian leaned in, closing the distance. His lips met hers, and the kiss was explosive. It tasted of whiskey and desperation. Harper didn't pull away; she leaned into him, her hands tangling in his dark hair as he pulled her flush against his chest.
For the first time in his life, the kingpin surrendered control. And for the first time in hers, Harper let herself be caught.
