HIS TOUCH MY UNDOING

 first time I saw Damian Cain, he was half-naked, covered in blood, and calmly lighting a cigarette beside a shattered glass table in the penthouse of Cain Enterprises.The second time, he kissed me like he wanted to end my life.This was the third time.And I had no business being on the top floor.I told myself it was an accident that I pressed the wrong button. That I was just curious. But I wasn't curious. I was furious. And curiosity doesn't wear red lipstick and heels sharp enough to make a man bleed.The elevator climbed floor after floor, smooth and silent, as my reflection stared back at me in the brushed gold panel. My breathing was calm. My heart wasn't.When the doors finally slid open, I stepped out before I could change my mind. Hardwood floors. Floor-to-ceiling glass. A panoramic view of the city like it belonged to him. And maybe it did.Because Damian Cain always got what he wanted.Including people like me."Ms. Leigh," his voice came from the far end of the room calm, amused, and cold. "You're five floors above where you belong."I turned slowly.He was lounging on a black leather chair, shirt unbuttoned, collar open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like he'd just walked out of a photoshoot and straight into a courtroom murder trial.Because Damian always looked like he was capable of either."Nice of you to remember me," I said, stepping inside.He didn't move. "I remember everyone who's ever tried to sue me."I smiled, sharp. "That wasn't a lawsuit. That was a warning."He tilted his head, eyes cool and calculating. "And this visit?""A reminder.""Of what?""That warnings come before war."He stood up then. Slowly. Like every movement he made was intentional. He walked toward me with the quiet confidence of a man who knew people either wanted to be him or be under him."Still playing lawyer, I see.""Still playing God," I shot back."You came to my floor. My office. My building. That's not war, sweetheart. That's surrender."I should have slapped him. Should have turned around, walked back into the elevator, and never looked back.Instead, I stood there—heart pounding, mouth dry, skin prickling like it remembered how his touch had felt months ago."I didn't come here to surrender," I said quietly."No?" He stepped closer, his voice low. "Then why are you shaking?"I wasn't.At least, I didn't think I was until he reached up and touched the side of my neck. Just his fingers brushing the skin below my ear.And I hated myself for how my body responded.For the flutter in my stomach. The heat crawling up my throat. The memories I hadn't buried deep enough."Don't touch me," I said.He didn't stop. "Then stop letting me."That was the problem. I didn't let him. He just did. He moved through life like consequences didn't apply to him. Because they didn't. When you're rich enough to destroy companies with a signature and charming enough to make the media call you brilliant instead of cruel, rules were optional.He'd destroyed my father's company. Bought it out in pieces, like it was a broken toy. I knew what I came here for. I just didn't expect his skin to still smell like cedarwood and power.He leaned down, voice against my jaw. "Did you come here to beg, Ms. Leigh?""I don't beg," I whispered."Everyone does," he said. "Eventually."His words were gasoline. And I was already holding the match.I pushed him.Hard.He stumbled back a step. Then smiled. Not in surprise. But pleasure."You really came here to fight?""Isn't that what you want? A woman who bites back?""I want a woman who knows how to lose control."I slapped him.The sound cracked the air between us. My palm stung. His cheek reddened. But he didn't flinch.He only smiled wider."Now we're getting somewhere," he said.I hated him.I hated that he was right.I hated that I wanted to slap him again just to see if he'd grab me harder. Pull me closer. Kiss me like he did that night at the gala when we both pretended we didn't know who we were.Back when I thought he was just a stranger with good hands and a dangerous smile.Back before I knew he was the man who took everything from me."You have no idea what I'm capable of," I said, voice low.He stepped forward, hands sliding into his pockets. "No. But I'd love a demonstration."I should've walked away.Instead, I walked right up to him. The air between us pulsed like electricity. His cologne was thick—woodsy, masculine, intoxicating."I came here to tell you something," I said, chest nearly brushing his."I'm listening.""I'm going to destroy you."He leaned in. "Do it slower."I stared at him. At his mouth. At the scar just below his jawline. At the infuriating calm in his gaze.Then I kissed him.It wasn't planned. It wasn't smart.It was desperate.I pressed my mouth to his like it was the only way to shut him up. Like it was the only way to get the taste of hatred out of my mouth.He didn't hesitate.His hands grabbed my waist, fingers digging into my hips like he'd been waiting for this moment for far too long. His lips moved against mine with violent grace. It wasn't a kiss. It was a power struggle with tongue and teeth.I bit him. He groaned.He pressed me back against the wall, hands roaming, mouth devouring, his body already hard against mine."You hate me," he whispered against my neck."More than anything."He kissed me harder.I moaned. Quietly. Stupidly.His hand slid down my thigh, fingers grazing skin as he lifted my leg around his waist. My skirt bunched. My breath caught.Then he paused."I should stop," he said."Then stop."He didn't move.Neither did I.We stared at each other, chests heaving, lips swollen, both of us fully aware of how far this could go and how fast.Finally, he dropped his forehead to mine. "You're dangerous.""So are you," I said.He stepped back slowly. Ran a hand through his hair. Picked up the whiskey glass on his desk and downed it.I smoothed my skirt and tried to remember how to breathe."What now?" I asked.He didn't look at me."You came to start a war," he said. "But you started something else."He turned away, already pulling open his drawer for a cigar."I'll see you in court, Mr. Cain," I said.He smiled without looking at me. "You'll see me long before that."I left the way I came—through the elevator I never should've entered.Only this time, I knew exactly what button I was pressing.