The night air was thick, pressing down on Ryan like an unbearable weight as he stood on the empty sidewalk. His breathing was uneven, his pulse erratic. His thoughts weren't his own anymore, just a jumbled mess of memories, fears, and the undeniable truth that he could no longer keep buried.
He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the strands tightly at the roots as if the pain might anchor him or stop the spiral.
But It didn't. Sienna didn't wait for the auction to end. She kept saying he humiliated her and little Miss Bennett doesn't do well with humiliation.
She walked out on him. He barely registered it, barely cared. The argument had ended with her slamming the door of the car in his face, and speeding off into the night, but Ryan wasn't sure who had walked away from whom.
Because he had left her long before tonight. His thoughts, his body, everything was gone ever since he came back.
Damien Cross. Ryan held back a groan every time he thought of that name.
The name alone made something cold settle in his gut. It was ridiculous how one person's presence could unravel him this badly. But that was Damien's power. That was what made him dangerous.
Ryan's fingers ran stiff and cold. He had spent years trying to forget, trying to move on. But all it took was one encounter, one look from Damien and it had all come crashing back.
And then there was Chloe.
The moment he saw Damien at the gala, his hands firmly across her waist, it was like a noose had tightened around his throat.
Damien wasn't just here for him. He was here for her as well, Ryan thought to himself. Because that was how Damien played.
He exhaled sharply. No. He couldn't let that happen.
He had been a coward for too long, letting the past fester, letting it twist and tangle into something unspoken. But Chloe deserved to know.
Even if it cost him everything.
He hailed a cab, making his decision. As he got in, he had only one thing in mind. It was time to tell her the truth.
____
Chloe's heart was still racing, her breath shallow as she stared at the man sitting in the dimly lit corner of her living room.
Ryan.
He was barely recognizable.
His usually put-together appearance was gone. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes wrinkled, his posture slumped. And his eyes? God, his eyes, looked hollow, lost in something deep and unreachable.
Her fingers let go of the shoe she picked up in hopes of defending herself, a mix of concern and frustration bubbling inside her.
"What the hell, Ryan?" Her voice came out sharper than intended, but she didn't care. "You scared me half to death! Why are you just sitting there in the dark?"
He blinked at her as if pulling himself back into the moment. Ryan got up slowly.
"There's something you need to know Chloe." His voice was hoarse and shaky.
Chloe crossed her arms. "And it couldn't wait until morning?"
"No, It can't." He said, holding his chest as he tried to control his breathing.
She let out a slow breath, rubbing her temples. "Does Sienna even know you're here?"
"No."
"Of course, she doesn't." Her irritation flared. "Ryan, this is insane. You can't just show up in my house in the middle of the night like some creep."
He flinched at the word, but his expression didn't change.
"It's not about Sienna," he said quietly. "It's about you. It's about me." His voice wavered. "It's about everything."
Chloe hesitated. Something about the way he said it, the way his voice cracked around the edges—it unsettled her.
Ryan looked like he was unravelling.
She exhaled, softer this time. "Ryan, we've been over this."
"No we haven't," He growled as he put his hands on her shoulder and shook her violently. "You need to listen to me Chloe, you need to fucking listen."
Chloe didn't move, a sharp breath left her lips, she was too stunned- too caught off guard by the sudden desperation in his touch.
Ryan's breathing was ragged. His fingers trembled where they gripped her. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, as if forcing himself to keep steady.
He inhaled sharply ready to speak, but before he could say a word, his phone rang.
Ryan flinched so hard it was as if the sound had physically struck him.
His grip slackened just enough for her to get away.
Chloe watched as he pulled the device from his pocket, his hands slightly shaking. The glow of the screen illuminated his face, and she saw the way his expression shifted—saw how whatever colour was left in his face drained completely.
"What?" Ryan snapped as he answered the call.
There was silence on the other end of the phone before a voice low, calm but firm spoke.
"Touch her again, and you're fucking dead."
Ryan raised his brows, his entire body went rigid.
"Say another word, and you're fucking dead."
He staggered, his eyes darting across the room.
"Let her go. And leave. Now!."
Then suddenly the line went dead. Ryan's lungs forgot how to function. The silence that followed was eerie. He dropped his hands by his side.
The voice on the other end. It wasn't Damien. But one thing was certain, it had to do with Damien. Damien was having him watched, having him followed.
Slowly, he turned his head, scanning the room as though expecting someone to emerge from the shadows.
Chloe watched, her face drowning in fear. "Ryan?" She spoke gently.
But he wasn't listening, he stalked toward the window, yanking the curtain outside. There was nothing there, just darkness. His chest rose and fell with quick uneven breaths.
Chloe could tell something was going on. Something bad.
"Ryan?" she asked cautiously. "What is it?"
Ryan turned to her abruptly and for a split second, she swore she saw fear in his eyes.
Then, in an instant, the fear disappeared. It was as if someone had flipped a switch. His features smoothed over, and his posture straightened.
And when he looked up at her again, the distress was gone.
"It's nothing." His voice was too steady, too controlled.
Chloe narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"I'm sorry," he cut in abruptly, "I shouldn't have come here."
She stared at him. The shift was too sudden. Something was wrong.
"What the hell, Ryan?" Her voice hardened. "You show up at my place, say you have something important to tell me, then suddenly act like it was all nothing? I don't believe that for a second."
He swallowed, forcing a small, humourless smile. "I'm sorry, Chloe. Forget I was here."
And just like that, he turned for the door, leaving Chloe standing there, shaken, confused and more unsettled than ever.
Chloe watched him go, her stomach twisting at the thought of his behaviour.
Something wasn't right.
She had seen him during his fight with Sienna, he kept glancing toward the entrance of the hall, his palms were shaky and his tie was loose. It was like he was scared, waiting for or running from something.
What could have gotten him so worked up and did she really want to know?
_____
On the other side of the night, Damien was falling into his own invasive thoughts.
He shut the door behind him, exhaling sharply and he ran a hand through his dark hair.
The taste of her was still on his lips, warm, lingering and utterly devious, but some part of him couldn't help but think that it was wrong.
A kiss? That was far-fetched even for him.
He shouldn't have done that. It was supposed to be a power play. A calculated move.
To show her who was still in charge.
He wanted to see how far he could push her, how deep he could pull her in before she realised she was drowning.
She was a pawn, a piece on the board, and he was the one controlling the game.
And yet…his mind raced as he recalled the way she looked at him. She was stunned breathless, her lips parted in something between shock and surrender.
She gave in, why?
There had been a flicker of something in her eyes, something he hadn't expected.
Not fear, nor hatred, something else.
And worse? He had felt something too.
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched it slightly.
"This was a mistake. And I don't make mistakes." He said to himself, but if that were true, why was his chest tight?
And why was the image of her replaying in his head?
Frustrated, Damien let out a curse and he poured himself a drink.
That wasn't part of the plan and she wasn't supposed to affect him.
He needed to fix it and fast. He wouldn't let it go any further, he wouldn't let her become more than she was supposed to be.
His leverage - his weapon against Ryan.
And he would make sure it stayed that way.
As he got lost in thought, the ice in his glass had melted.
He hadn't touched the whiskey. Had barely moved from his spot by the windows of his penthouse.
But his thoughts weren't here before Damien could recall anything else. His phone buzzed on the desk beside him.
He took slow steps as he sunk into a chair and answered.
"Mr Cross," came the calm voice on the other end.
Damien's expression remained indifferent, "Ethan." He leaned back, dropping the glass in his hand.
"How did it go?"
"He showed up at her house, he looked shaken - disoriented. I assume he was about to tell her something. But I made sure it didn't happen."
Damien smirked slightly. "Good…is that all?"
"She looked scared. He had his hands on her."
Damien sat up, something in him shifted. A slow sharp crack in his chest.
He shut his eyes for a moment as he gripped his tie, but then just as quickly, he forced himself to relax.
He cleared his throat as he leaned back again. "And?"
"I told him to leave, made sure he understood the consequences if he didn't."
A satisfied silence stretched between them.
Damien took a sip of whiskey. "He's unravelling" he murmured. "Exactly where I want him."
Ethan hummed in agreement. "He won't last much longer at this rate."
Damien's smirk returned, it was cold and sharp. "Good, let him fall apart."
And with that. He hung up.
He looked back at the glass and for the first time, a drink wasn't enough to steady him.
Because despite everything, despite knowing Chloe was just a piece in his puzzle. The thought of Ryan touching her still sat wrong in his chest.
He scoffed, shaking off the thought. But that didn't matter. It wouldn't matter.
And he would make sure of it.