Damien POV
Seven years. Seven years of planning, seven years of building an empire brick by bloody brick, seven years of dreaming about this moment. And now, watching Richard Sterling's coffin disappear into the rain-soaked earth, all I felt was the familiar burn of rage that had kept me alive through the darkest nights of my life.
The old bastard was finally dead.
I stood beneath the skeletal branches of the oak tree, expensive Italian wool keeping the October chill at bay, and savored the sight of his mourners pretending to grieve. They had no idea what kind of man they were burying. What kind of monster had worn the mask of a loving father and respected businessman while destroying lives with the casual indifference of a god.
My god. Once upon a time.
But my attention wasn't on the hypocrites surrounding his grave. It was on her.
Isabella Sterling had grown up.
The last time I'd seen her, she'd been eighteen years old with wild auburn curls and eyes the color of emeralds, pressing a tearful kiss to my cheek before I left for what was supposed to be my bright future. Now she stood at her father's graveside like a queen in mourning, elegant, composed, devastating in the way that only a woman who'd been bred for power could be.
The rain had darkened her hair to deep copper, and even from fifty yards away I could see the way it clung to her neck in wet tendrils that made my fingers itch to touch. She'd inherited her mother's bone structure, sharp cheekbones, full lips, the kind of beauty that could stop traffic or start wars. But those eyes... those eyes were pure Richard Sterling. Intelligent, calculating, missing nothing.
She was scanning the crowd now, making mental notes of who had come to pay their respects and who was notably absent. Playing the game even in grief. Richard had trained her well.
Too well.
The thought should have angered me. Instead, I found myself admiring the way she held herself, spine straight despite the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders, chin lifted even as her world crumbled around her. She was stronger than the girl I remembered, harder in all the places where life had carved away her innocence.
I wondered if she still laughed the way she used to, head thrown back with abandon. I wondered if she still bit her lower lip when she was thinking, if she still hummed old jazz standards when she thought no one was listening.
I wondered if she'd remember me.
Focus, Cross. This wasn't about nostalgia or the ghost of teenage infatuation. This was about justice. About collecting a debt seven years overdue.
But then she turned, some instinct making her look in my direction, and even across the cemetery I felt the impact of her gaze like a physical blow. For a moment that stretched into eternity, we simply stared at each other, the woman she'd become and the man her father had tried to destroy.
She was beautiful. God, she was beautiful in the way that made smart men stupid and careful men reckless. The black dress she wore molded to curves that definitely hadn't been there when she was eighteen, emphasizing the swell of her breasts and the graceful line of her waist. Even grief couldn't diminish the sensual grace with which she moved, the unconscious confidence that marked her as a Sterling.
I wanted to walk over there. I wanted to close the distance between us and see if she'd recognize the boy who used to sneak her father's best scotch so we could drink it on the roof of Sterling Tower while planning our futures. I wanted to see if she'd remember the night before I left, when she'd kissed me with desperate eighteen-year-old passion and whispered that she'd wait for me.
Instead, I smiled. A slow, predatory curve of lips that held all the darkness I'd cultivated over the past seven years.
She couldn't see it clearly at this distance, but something about my stillness must have unnerved her because she turned away quickly, her lawyer, Marcus Chen, according to my files, ushering her toward a waiting car.
Run, little princess. Run while you still can.
By tomorrow morning, she'd know that Cross Enterprises had been quietly acquiring Sterling Industries stock for months. By tomorrow afternoon, she'd realize that her inheritance came with a poison pill she could never hope to swallow. And by tomorrow night...
By tomorrow night, Isabella Sterling would know exactly who was hunting her.
I watched the sleek black sedan pull away from the cemetery, carrying her toward a destiny she couldn't imagine. In the backseat, she was probably getting her first briefing about the hostile takeover that had been years in the making. About the enemy who'd been circling Sterling Industries like a shark, waiting for exactly this moment of weakness.
She had no idea that enemy had once loved her.
Seven years ago...
"You're going to change the world, Damien Cross." Richard Sterling's voice had been warm with pride as he handed me the champagne flute. "This invention of yours, this revolutionary technology, it's going to put Sterling Industries on the map in ways we never dreamed."
The charity gala swirled around us in a symphony of designer gowns and expensive suits, but all I could focus on was the man who'd become my mentor, my father figure, my salvation. At twenty-five, I'd already been written off by most of the corporate world, too young, too rough around the edges, too hungry. But Richard had seen something in me, had given me a chance when no one else would.
"I owe everything to you, Mr. Sterling," I'd said, meaning every word. "The lab, the resources, the opportunity, "
"You owe me nothing," he'd cut me off with that paternal smile that made something tight in my chest ease. "You're family, son. You always have been."
Family. The word I'd craved my entire life, finally offered by the one man whose opinion mattered.
And then I'd seen her across the room.
Isabella at eighteen had been a force of nature, all curves and confidence wrapped in emerald silk that matched her eyes. She'd grown up in the years I'd been working for her father, transforming from the sweet kid who used to bring me sandwiches in the lab into a woman who could stop conversations just by walking into a room.
"She's beautiful tonight," Richard had said, following my gaze. "My little girl, all grown up."
Beautiful didn't begin to cover it. She was devastating, magnetic, the kind of woman who made men forget their own names. And when she'd looked across the room and smiled at me, that slow, knowing smile that said she'd been watching me watch her, I'd felt something dangerous unfurl in my chest.
"Dance with her," Richard had said, his voice carrying that tone of command that had built his empire. "But remember, Damien, she's not for you. She's a Sterling. You're..."
He hadn't finished the sentence. He hadn't needed to.
I was nobody. Foster care trash who'd clawed his way up from nothing. She was American royalty, bred for a different kind of future than anything I could offer.
But I'd danced with her anyway. And when the music had slowed and she'd melted against me, her body fitting against mine like she'd been made for it, I'd forgotten everything except the way she felt in my arms.
"I've been watching you," she'd whispered against my ear, her breath warm and sweet. "For months. Waiting for you to notice me."
"I've noticed," I'd managed, my hands spanning her waist, feeling the silk and the warm skin beneath it. "Trust me, bella, I've noticed."
She'd shivered at the nickname, and I'd felt her pulse flutter against my throat where her lips brushed. "What does that mean? Bella?"
"Beautiful," I'd said, because it was true and because holding her was making me stupid with want. "It means beautiful."
The rest of the evening had blurred together, stolen moments in shadowed alcoves, her laugh bubbling up between kisses that tasted like champagne and promises. And later, much later, when the gala had ended and she'd convinced me to drive her home the long way...
"Pull over," she'd said when we'd reached the overlook above the city. "I want to show you something."
What she'd shown me was the way she looked in moonlight, the way her dress pooled around her feet when she let it fall, the way her skin felt like silk beneath my hands. We hadn't gone all the way, she'd been a virgin and I'd still had enough nobility left to stop before I ruined her, but we'd explored each other with the desperate hunger of two people who knew they were living on borrowed time.
"I love you," she'd whispered against my lips as I'd driven her home, her lipstick smeared and her hair wild from my fingers. "I know we haven't said it, but I do. I love you, Damien Cross."
And I'd loved her too. God help me, I'd loved her with the kind of intensity that burned everything else away.
Two weeks later, Richard Sterling had destroyed my life.
The memory faded as rain began to fall harder, but the rage it brought was as fresh as ever. She'd said she loved me, and then she'd stood by while her father stole my work, bankrupted my company, and had me blacklisted from every major corporation in the country.
Family, Richard had called me. Right up until the moment he'd decided I was a threat to his precious daughter's future.
Well, now his precious daughter was about to learn what happened when Sterlings crossed a Cross.
I pulled out my phone and dialed a familiar number.
"It's done," I said when my assistant answered. "Sterling's in the ground. Start phase two."
"The board meeting is set for tomorrow morning," came the crisp reply. "Legal has prepared the documents. Once she inherits, we'll have forty-eight hours to, "
"I know the timeline," I cut her off. "Just make sure everything's ready. I want Isabella Sterling to know exactly who's been hunting her family."
I ended the call and took one last look at the cemetery where Richard Sterling would rot for eternity. He'd taken everything from me once, my work, my future, my faith in the people I'd called family.
Now I was going to take everything from him.
Starting with his daughter.
Time to collect what's owed, Bella. And this time, Daddy can't save you.