Page 102 of Sexting the Boss

I turn on my heels, setting the champagne flute down with a little too much force.

I don’t care.

I start walking, my heart pounding with every step. The crowd blurs past me, all fancy dresses and glittering jewels and a world I don’t belong in.

I reach the entrance, my breath shallow, my pulse racing.

Almost there.

Almost free.

Then—

A hand wraps around my wrist.

Firm. Unyielding.

I stop.

Slowly, I turn, my chest heaving, my heart slamming against my ribs.

And there he is.

Damien.

Standing behind me, his grip keeping me in place.

His expression?

Unreadable.

But his eyes—his storm-gray, all-consuming eyes—are locked onto mine.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs.

“What am I doing?” I echo, my voice shaky from alcohol and frustration. I pull at my arm, but he doesn’t budge. Of course he doesn’t.

Damien watches me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his goddamn eyes—look like they could swallow me whole.

“You were leaving,” he says, his tone low, almost accusing.

I scoff, yanking at my arm again. “Oh, so I need permission now?”

Damien’s jaw tightens. “Why?” he asks, voice steady, but I hear the edge beneath it.

I laugh, but it’s humorless, sharp like glass. “Are you serious?” I motion toward the ballroom, toward where Nina is still standing, watching us. Toward the people still whispering, still staring at me like I don’t belong here. “Because I don’t need to be part of whatever twisted game you and your ex are playing,” I snap.

His brows pull together, his grip loosening just slightly.

I press on, the alcohol in my blood making me reckless. “You brought me here for her, didn’t you?” I hiss. “To prove something to her? To make her jealous? What, was I just some pawn in your power play?”

Something flickers across his face, something quick and dangerous.

“I brought you here for me.”

His words hit me in the chest, unexpected and raw.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

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