The text message from Logan still pulsed on Zara's screen like a threat wrapped in concern.
~You're not safe with him. He's not who you think. Meet me. One hour. Alone.
She stared at it as the boardroom around her buzzed with morning chatter. Charts, graphs, and meaningless projections blurred in her vision. For the first time in years, she couldn't focus.
Damian's not who you think. Of course he wasn't. That was half the attraction.
And maybe the danger.
She slipped out of the meeting with a mumbled excuse about a migraine, ignoring the look Damian shot her from across the glass wall. She didn't owe him an explanation.
Not yet.
---
11:27 A.M. The Rosewood Hotel Lounge
Logan always knew how to pick a stage.
The rooftop lounge at The Rosewood was bathed in soft white light, shielded from public view, and expensive enough to guarantee privacy. The perfect place for secrets and warnings.
Zara spotted him at a corner table, sunglasses on, blazer crisp, grin polished like always.
"Still dramatic," she muttered, sliding into the seat across from him.
"You came," he said, pleased.
"I'm not here for a reunion."
He gestured to the waiter, then back to her. "I figured you'd want to hear the truth before Wolfe feeds you whatever version suits him."
Zara crossed her arms. "Get to the point."
Logan leaned in, voice low. "Damian Wolfe isn't just playing at power. He owned skeletons, Buried them. And not saying metaphorically." It's a fact.
She frowned. "That's vague, even for you."
Logan smirked. "You think that scandal from last year was just a financial misstep? It wasn't. He covered for someone. Protected a deal that would've ruined him. A man like Damian doesn't survive Wall Street without blood on his hands."
Zara's stomach twisted. "You're just pissed I didn't come running when you resurfaced."
"I'm not the enemy," he said gently. "I never was."
"You stole from me," she snapped. "Don't rewrite history." Bloody liar. she sneered.
Logan's expression softened. "I made a mistake. One I've regretted every day since. But I'm telling you now, Damian isn't clean. And whatever you think is happening between you two, it's not real."
coming from someone who shattered me she scoffed.
But deep down she hated how much that last part stung.
She stood up abruptly, heart racing, but didn't let her facial expression sell her emotions out.
She left without even saying anything else.
Logan's voice followed her.
"When it falls apart, Zara, don't say I didn't warn you."
---
12:12 P.M. Wolfe Penthouse.
Damian was waiting when she returned.
His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, forearms inked and tense. His tie was tossed on the desk like an afterthought. The room smelled like him, cedar, smoke and restrained violence.
"Where were you?" he asked quietly.
Zara hesitated.
"I had something to handle."
His eyes narrowed. "With Logan?"
She didn't answer.
Damian crossed the room in two strides, crowding her against the glass. "You disappeared from a board meeting," he said. "No word. No warning. And now your ex-fiancé suddenly resurfaces?"
"Don't twist this into some jealous tantrum," she snapped.
"I don't get jealous," he growled.
She laughed once. "Could've fooled me."
His hand slammed onto the glass beside her head. She flinched, but didn't back down.
"He's trying to poison you against me," Damian said, voice low and rough. "And you're letting him."
"I'm questioning you," she shot back. "Because unlike you, I don't lie to people I sleep with."
He stilled.
It was the first time either of them had acknowledged it out loud.
His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"That you're not who you pretend to be."
Damian's jaw tensed.
She studied his face, his silence said more than words ever could.
"You're hiding something," she whispered. "A lot of things."
"Do you want the truth?" he asked, suddenly too calm.
"I want to know if I'm sleeping next to a man who could ruin me."
His eyes burned into hers. "Zara… I could ruin you without ever touching you."
Their mouths were inches apart.
The tension snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight.
Zara surged forward, kissing him hard, angry. He caught her, pinned her against the glass, and kissed her like it was the only way he knew how to speak. No finesse. Just fire and need and possession.
Her fingers tangled in his shirt.
His hand was already sliding under her skirt when she pulled back, breathless.
"This doesn't answer anything," she whispered.
"I never said it would."
---
They didn't sleep together that night. Not because they didn't want to. Because it was too much. Too close to the truth. Too raw. Too many secrets.
Zara spent the evening alone on the balcony, wind tugging at her robe, wine glass in hand.
She stared out at the skyline and wondered if she was in over her head.
Not because Damian Wolfe was dangerous.
But because he made her want things she'd buried a long time ago.
---
Next Morning – 8:04 A.M.
Zara's phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
A photo was attached. Blurry. Grainy. But enough.
It was Damian, shirtless, bloody, and dragging something heavy into the trunk of a car.
Timestamp: March 17, 2:42 a.m. Queens Industrial Docks.
Her blood ran cold. A second message followed.
~Do you still think he's just dangerous in bed?
~There's a lot you don't know.