Chapter 4 - Damian’s Weakness
Back at the townhouse, I couldn’t sleep.
At 2:13 a.m., I found Damian alone in the kitchen.
No jacket.
No tie.
Black shirt open at the throat.
His tattoos looked darker beneath the low pendant lights, intricate black-and-gray ink disappearing beneath his collar.
He was drinking coffee.
“You sleep?” I asked.
“Occasionally.”
“That explains your personality.”
He looked up.
“Is insulting me part of your medical training?”
“It’s advanced practice.”
He slid another mug across the counter.
I sat opposite him.
“What are the Harbor Crown contracts?”
“Redevelopment rights.”
“For what?”
“Three waterfront parcels.”
“And Mercer wants them?”
“He needs them.”
“Why?”
Damian studied me.
“You really want to know?”
“I became involved the second someone photographed my mother.”
He nodded.
“Mercer’s companies are overleveraged. Without those parcels, two major lenders can call his debt.”
“So this isn’t some grand mafia war.”
“No.”
“It’s money.”
“It usually is.”
I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug.
“Give him the contracts.”
“No.”
I looked up sharply.
“If that ends this—”
“It won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because once a man learns threatening someone works, he doesn’t stop threatening them.”
I hated that answer because I knew he was right.
“Then what?”
“We prove Nolan gave Mercer access to the clinic. We trace the messages. We find whoever is feeding Mercer information from inside my organization.”
“Someone else?”
“Nolan knew medical records. He didn’t know my hotel security rotation.”
I thought about the ballroom.
The fake waiter.
The elevator.
Then something clicked.
“The champagne.”
Damian frowned.
“What about it?”
“Voss knew which tray would reach you.”
“Yes.”
“He also knew you’d be standing near the north windows.”
Damian went still.
“How?”
“You told me to stay close to you before we even left the penthouse.”
“I did.”
“Who knew where you’d stand?”
Damian’s gaze sharpened.
“My event coordinator.”
“Who?”
“Marissa Cole.”
I knew the name.
Marissa had organized Crosswell’s charity gala the previous spring.
“Call her.”
“I already did.”
“And?”
“She disappeared an hour ago.”
I exhaled.
“Of course she did.”
Damian’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“Mercer wants to meet.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Where?”
“The Harbor Crown.”
I almost laughed.
“The same hotel?”
“He enjoys symbolism.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going.”
“No.”
“We already had this argument.”
“This time you lose.”
“Why?”
“Because the message specifically says I come alone.”
I stared at him.
“That sounds safe.”
“I’m not interested in safe.”
“I noticed.”
I stood.
He caught my wrist—not roughly, just enough to stop me.
The contact silenced both of us.
His thumb rested against my pulse.
“Your heart’s racing,” he said.
“You’re holding my wrist.”
“That isn’t why.”
“No?”
His gaze dropped briefly toward my mouth.
Then returned to my eyes.
“No.”
I should have stepped away.
I didn’t.
“Why did you really bring me to the gala?” I asked.
“I told you.”
“You needed someone observant.”
“Yes.”
“Only that?”
Silence.
“Damian.”
His expression shifted when I used his first name.
“I saw you at the clinic three weeks ago,” he said.
“I remember.”
“You were talking to a little boy whose father was being treated.”
“He was scared.”
“You sat on the floor with him for forty minutes.”
“He needed someone.”
“You missed dinner.”
“How do you know?”
“I notice things too.”
I stared at him.
“Apparently not crimson dresses.”
His mouth finally curved.
“No. Apparently not those.”
Then his phone rang.
The moment disappeared.
Luca’s voice came through the speaker.
“We found Nolan.”
“Where?”
“South Boston.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Damian grabbed his jacket.
I was already moving.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“Stay here.”
“No.”
His stare hardened.
I lifted my chin.
“Nolan trusts me more than he trusts you.”
“He betrayed you.”
“Maybe.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means twenty thousand dollars doesn’t explain why a doctor with a six-figure salary suddenly betrays a clinic.”
Damian stopped.
I continued.
May you like
“What if Mercer threatened him too?”
Ten minutes later, we were in the car.
