Fatal DesireS

A year later.

The air in the city was crisp, infused with the earthy scent of rain-soaked asphalt as neon lights flickered to life along the streets, casting vibrant shades of red and blue upon the damp pavement.

Jessica Wazer perched on the edge of a cracked sidewalk, her slender fingers wrapped tightly around a nearly empty bottle of cheap beer.

Wavy, chestnut hair framed her face, partially concealing the exhaustion that haunted her weary eyes.

Lines of resilience etched into her features hinted at a life lived on the fringes, where expectation and reality diverged drastically.

She wasn't drunk, not yet. The bitter liquid served as her quiet rebellion against a world that had always seemed determined to break her spirit.

Each sip was a small act of defiance against the mundane, against the relentless message that she didn't belong anywhere.

With a slow exhale, she tilted her head back to the sky, watching dark clouds drift lazily overhead, promising another downpour.

The shadows within her stirred, ready to swallow her whole, but she held her ground.

An expensive black SUV paused on the opposite side of the road, observing her in silence.

The echo of the bustling city felt distant, irrelevant to the moment.

Inside the car sat Damien Theduson, the CEO of the Theduson's group, alongside his two loyal bodyguards, Shed and Ken.

Amidst the opulence surrounding them, Damien exuded an air of cold detachment.

His beautifully tailored suit clung to a body that suggested discipline refined through years of privilege and control.

His icy blue eyes, devoid of warmth, were locked onto Jessica, both scrutinizing and calculating.

"Boss, what do we do next?" Ken inquired, his voice tinged with impatience as they had been parked for over an hour.

"I will be getting down. Stay in the car," Damien replied, his tone dismissive.

"But it's dangerous to walk out alone, boss. Let one of us follow you. We can keep a distance," Shed cautioned, brows furrowing with concern.

The young CEO waved them off, striding toward Jessica with an air of certainty that matched the confident worrylessness of someone who had never felt real fear.

"Young lady, sitting alone in the dark isn't safe for you." His voice was deep and smooth, cutting through the cool evening air like a knife.

Jessica's gaze snapped to the stranger standing just a few feet away, his silhouette stark against the dim glow of a street lamp.

His tall, muscular frame exuded a quiet authority, yet a subtle menace lingered beneath the surface.

He was the kind of man who commanded attention without uttering a word, but as he stepped closer, she caught a glimpse of his striking features: chiseled jawline, lips that seemed sculpted to provoke intrigue and eyes that bore into her with an unsettling intensity.

"What difference does it make? It's not like it's any safer inside," Jessica replied, her voice laced with defiance that belied the tremor deep inside her.

His eyes darkened further, appraising her with a mixed look of concern and something more predatory. "You're in a dangerous part of town, sweetheart. Someone like you shouldn't be here."

She scoffed, the sound bitter on her lips. "And why do you care? What's in it for you?"

A slow smirk ghosted across his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes, which remained distant and cold. "You don't need to know someone to help them."

Jessica's heart raced, ensnared by his undeniable magnetism despite her instinctual wariness. "Right. And you'll tell me you're some kind of good Samaritan?"

He didn't respond immediately, instead lowering himself onto the pavement beside her, unbothered by the dirt or the curious glances from passing pedestrians.

His posture exuded confidence, an unspoken belief in his ability to control the situation.

"I don't believe in charity," Damien said, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "People seldom do good things without expecting something in return. But you… you seemed different."

A flare of annoyance shot through her. Why did that feel like an accusation? The intimacy of his gaze sent shivers down her spine, mixing feelings of vulnerability and fierce independence, almost making her question her resolve.

"Who are you?" she demanded, the edge in her voice masking the tremor of fear tumbling through her thoughts.

He leaned back slightly, the smirk deepening into something unsettling. "Damien."

Just Damien. No last name, no further explanation. A man of mystery wrapped in layers constructed by wealth and secrecy.

As her instincts screamed for her to flee, she was unexpectedly ensnared by the pull he had on her, an inexplicable allure that felt like a dangerous game.

Then, without warning, the world around her dimmed, and she blacked out.

The first sensation that enveloped Jessica was warmth.

Soft, luxurious silk sheets tangled around her bare legs, and the lingering scent of expensive cologne filled her senses, pulling her from unconsciousness.

The dawning horror that this wasn't her bed ignited a primal panic within her.

Her eyes flew open.

Where am I?

Jessica shot up from the bed, clutching the sheets to her chest as the reality of her surroundings crashed over her like a wave of ice-cold water.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Heart racing, she held her breath as Damien stepped inside, a tray of food in his hands.

The top button of his shirt hung open, exposing the sculpted ridges of his chest.

Sweatpants clung low on his hips, and her pulse quickened, a visceral reaction she despised.

"You're awake," he noted casually as he set the tray down beside her.

Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper, tinged with panic. "Where am I?"

"My apartment," he replied smoothly, leaning against the doorframe with an air of casual confidence. "You passed out. I brought you here."

Jessica's throat tightened as she gripped the sheets with a death grip. "Did we…?"

Damien raised an eyebrow, a low, rich chuckle escaping his lips.

The sound sent another ripple of confusion through her. "No. You were barely conscious. I'm not that kind of man." Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, he added, "I changed your dress because it was soaked through. You were in no state to move."

Every glance from him felt like a storm waiting to break, powerful, contemplative, yet coolly distant.

Jessica felt vulnerable yet drawn in, trying to reconcile his calm demeanor with the chaos she felt inside.

What would it take for her to trust someone like him, a man who embodied everything she feared yet found intoxicating?

Clarity washed over her, and as the pulsating fear tangled with curiosity, she pondered the truth hidden behind his façade.

In this fragile moment, the thread between safety and vulnerability seemed impossibly thin.

"Why would you help me?" she questioned, studying his inscrutable expression.

A flicker of amusement danced in Damien's eyes, but beneath it lurked something unreadable, a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

His words sent an electrifying shiver down her spine.

Who the hell was Damien? And why did it feel as if she had stumbled into something far bigger and more dangerous than herself?