I couldn't sleep.
Not even a little.
The villa was too quiet—unnaturally quiet—like the walls were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. The bed was soft, softer than anything I'd ever slept on, but my body refused to relax. My brain kept replaying that moment in the hallway, the way Damien's voice slipped under my skin like a whispered warning.
'Lock your door tonight.'
I stared at the door now, the lock glinting faintly in the moonlight. My fingers kept brushing over it, remembering the way it clicked into place.
Was he protecting me from something?
Or…
Was he protecting me from himself?
The thought hit me like a punch to the ribs.
Ridiculous.
Impossible.
Stupid.
But my heart wouldn't calm down. I got up and walked to the balcony doors, pulling them open just enough to let the night breeze seep in. Cool air brushed my face, carrying the scent of salt from the ocean down the hill.
I sat on the edge of the bed again, hugging my knees, trying to steady my breathing.
Everything felt too big tonight.
The villa.
My feelings.
Damien.
Especially Damien.
Maybe it was the exhaustion or the hunger or the fact that this was the first place that felt even a little like home… but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. His stare. His voice. His fingers brushing mine on the plane when he thought I was asleep.
And the way he looked at me earlier…
Like I was a problem he didn't know how to solve.
A soft creak cut through the silence.
My head snapped up.
Sounded like… a floorboard.
Near my door.
Goosebumps raced up my arms.
I tiptoed to the door, pressing my ear against it.
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Familiar.
My breath lodged in my throat.
"Damien?" I whispered before my brain could stop me.
Nothing.
I squeezed the doorknob without thinking—
and froze when I remembered the lock.
He told me to lock it.
But now some stupid, reckless part of me wondered what would happen if I didn't.
My fingers moved on their own.
The lock clicked softly.
The tiniest sound—
But outside, everything went still.
Like he heard it.
Like he'd been waiting for it.
I swallowed hard and opened the door just enough to peek out—
And nearly crashed into him.
Damien stood right there.
Right in front of my door.
As if he'd been leaning toward it.
As if he'd been… listening.
Moonlight from the hallway window poured over his face, sharpening every line of his jaw, tracing the shadows under his cheekbones. His gray eyes were darker than usual—stormy, almost wild.
My heart stuttered painfully.
"What are you doing here?" I whispered, breath shaking. "Damien…"
His hand shot out, flat against the doorframe beside my head, keeping me from closing it.
He was too close.
Way too close.
"I told you to lock the door," he said, voice low, almost strained.
"I— I did."
"Then why did you open it?"
I didn't have an answer.
Not one I could say aloud.
Damien leaned in slightly, eyes dropping to my mouth before jerking upward again, as if catching himself. His breath hit my cheek, warm, uneven.
He looked tortured.
Actually tortured.
"What's wrong with you?" I whispered. "Why are you acting like— like this?"
Something in his jaw twitched.
Something dangerous.
"You really want to know?" he asked.
I nodded before I could stop myself.
His other hand lifted—
hesitated—
then brushed the side of my face, knuckles grazing my jaw gently, almost reverently.
The touch made my knees weaken.
"I asked you to lock your door…" he murmured, voice softer now, "…because I didn't trust myself tonight."
My stomach dropped.
"What do you mean?" My voice barely came out.
He closed his eyes for a second and exhaled like he'd been holding that truth prisoner for too long.
Then he opened them, and everything inside me cracked open.
"I spent the entire flight trying not to touch you," he said, words cutting through me like heat. "I watched you starve yourself. I watched you shake carrying luggage that wasn't yours. I watched you sleep curled up like you were trying to disappear."
He took another step closer.
My back hit the door.
He didn't even touch me, but the air felt electric, charged, terrifying.
"And when I saw you run into Mother's arms…" His voice dropped lower. "…I wanted to drag you away. I wanted—"
He broke off and clenched his fists.
I couldn't breathe.
"Damien," I whispered. But it came out like a confession.
His eyes dropped to my lips again.
Slow. Tortured.
He leaned in so close our noses nearly brushedAnd I felt his breath tremble.
"Daisy…" he whispered, voice ragged, "this is why you should've locked the damn door."
He tilted forward, his forehead almost touching mine.
I could feel the kiss before it even happened.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Every part of me screamed to pull away.
Every part of me begged to stay.
His lips brushed the corner of mine—barely a touch, barely real—
just a whisper of heat that sent shockwaves down my spine.
My breath hitched.
But then—
He froze.
Like he'd been electrocuted.
He pulled back so fast I nearly stumbled forward.
His eyes were blown wide, horrified, furious_
but not at me.
At himself.
"Go inside," he said hoarsely. "Now."
"Damien—"
"Now, Daisy."
His voice cracked.
It scared me more than his anger ever did.
Because it wasn't anger.
It was surrender.
I stepped back inside slowly, like any sudden movement might break the fragile control he was barely holding onto.
But before I could close the door—
He caught it with his hand, leaning forward just enough for his words to fall against my cheek.
"You don't know what it costs me to walk away from you," he whispered.
I felt it everywhere.
"And if you leave this door unlocked again…"
He swallowed hard, eyes burning.
"…I won't."
Then he stepped back.
And the door closed softly between us.
I stood there, shaking, my fingers pressed to the place on my skin where his breath had touched me.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful.
It throbbed.
It pulsed.
It felt like a promise.
And a warning.
I walked backward until my knees hit the bed and collapsed onto it, burying my face in the pillow, trying to calm the storm inside my chest.
Protect me from himself.
That's what he meant.
Damien wasn't dangerous to the world.
He was dangerous to me.
Because for the first time in years, I finally understood something I'd been avoiding.
He didn't hate me.
Not even close.
He wanted me.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.