Page 23 of The Perfect Bargain

“Please, Damian, I’m begging you. I can’t lose your son—this would destroy us,” I rush the words, desperate for him to understand. He moves to sit beside me on the couch, his hand resting gently on my knee, a quiet offer of comfort.

“I won’t tell him,” he assures after a heavy pause, and relief floods through me so fiercely that I nearly gasp for air. But then he adds, “But you have to quit,” and my relief shatters.

“What?” The word escapes me in disbelief, my eyes snapping to his, wide with shock and confusion. “I can’t quit,” I whisper, more to myself than to him, my voice a mix of desperation and resolve. “You know everything depends on this.”

Damian looks at me, his gaze steady, unflinching. “It’ll depend on me now,” he says, his tone light, as if he’s discussing the weather.

“What?” The word slips from me, a single note of confusion hanging between us.

“I’ll cover whatever you lose when Ava steps back,” he explains, his casual dismissal of the financial abyss in front of us making my head spin.

“You can’t be serious,” I say, my eyes wide, my heart hammering in my chest as I struggle to digest his words. “Why would you do that?”

“I want to help,” he murmurs, his hand tracing light patterns on my thigh, soothing in a way that sends shivers across my skin. His touch reassures, distracts, and somehow, promises more.

“Damian…I—” My words falter, caught in the tempest of my thoughts.

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” he interrupts, reading my turmoil as easily as one reads the morning paper. “Just quit. That’s all.”

Can I really? Just like that? I don’t despise my work—in fact, there are moments when I downright revel in it. It’s not the job itself but the secrets and the double life that weigh heavy on my soul. Yet, I can’t deny the rush it brings; it’s intoxicating. The thrill, the mastery of nuances, the clandestine joy of being desired—it’s what makes me excel, perhaps even stand out. So, the gnawing question remains: Can I just walk away? And erase everything as if it never mattered?

“What’s making this so difficult for you?” he probes, his gaze intense, piercing deep as if he’s trying to read my very soul.

“I don’t know,” I admit, the words barely a whisper, my breath shaky. My chest rises and falls too quickly, nerves fluttering wildly within. “I guess… I’ve just gotten used to it, that’s all.” The familiarity, the rhythm of it—it’s hard to imagine letting it go.

“Used to fucking strangers?” He asks, his words sharp, slicing through the air. I stiffen; his frankness, so raw and unguarded, sends my heartbeat into a frantic race. Why does this unnerve me so?

“Yes,” I manage to breathe out, my voice a whisper lost in the tension between us. His hand creeps higher up my thigh, pausing only when he reaches the hem of my dress.

“I think you don’t want to quit because you enjoy it,” Damian suggests, his voice taking on a deeper, darker timbre. It’s a side of him I haven’t heard before, and the intensity of his words sends a thrill through me; immediately, my nipples harden under his gaze.

He’s a striking man, and despite being nearly twenty years my senior, he maintains himself well—it’s undeniable. I’ve noticed it long before today’s tangled scenario; those moments when our bodies accidentally brushed, or those summer days at the lake when his gaze lingered just a bit too long. There’s no use pretending I haven’t felt the pull, the unspoken tension swirling between us.

“Yes.” I brace for laughter or judgment, but instead, Damian looks at me with that familiar intensity, his eyes blazing as if he’s cataloging every desire he’s ever had for my body, undecided on where to begin.

“Maybe you should go,” he mutters suddenly, and the words snag my breath in my throat.

“Why?” I hear myself ask; a rebellious part of me ignited when his touch first lingered. I can’t resist; I shift closer,instinctively drawing him in, feeling my dress inch up slightly under the weight of his wandering hand.

“I could think of a few reasons.”

“Robert doesn’t have to know. He’s never known about my work,” I manage, my words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

“You’re twenty-five; I’m old enough to be your father.”

“You wouldn’t be the first man I’ve called Daddy,” I tease, biting my lip, torn between fleeing and pushing the boundary even further.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, a ragged sound of surrender, his hand tightening on my dress as if to restrain himself. I inch closer, daring him with my challenge. “But I’ll sure as hell be the last.”

Chapter Seventeen

Diana

“Pull up your dress.”

Goosebumps race across my skin as he growls his command in a gravelly voice. My mind races, torn between obeying and fleeing. But the desire to please him consumes me, blocking out any thoughts of Robert. All I can think about is everything his father will do to me. Damian’s hands are like fire on my body, making me crave more and more of his touch. I timidly reach for the hem of my dress, still held by his strong hand, and lift it over my hips, baring myself from the waist down. My wide eyes meet his intense gaze as I ask innocently, “Is this what you want?”

With a firm grasp on my thigh, he commands me to open for him. I obediently comply, sinking into the plush couch as his hand moves up to my arousal. Our breaths mingle in the air, both of us trembling with anticipation. I expected him to ravish me right then and there, but he surprises me with his restraint.

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