Chapter 77- Unspoken Desires in a Midnight Ride
I couldn’t believe I had just told Damien Sterling about my failed modeling career–and my bust size, of all things. The words had tumbled out before I could stop them, and now they hung in the air between us as we pulled up to my apartment building.
Chloe stretched dramatically, her fake slumber apparently over. “Well, wasn’t that a
in one. lovely ride?” she asked with an innocent smile that fooled no
I shot her a look that said I knew exactly what she’d been doing. Her matchmaking efforts were about as subtle as a marching band.
“It was… educational,” Damien replied, his voice perfectly controlled despite the tension I could feel radiating from him. Our thighs were still pressed together in the confines of the backseat, neither of us making any effort to move apart despite having more room now that Chloe had shifted.
“Educational?” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Chloe,” Damien warned, but his sister was undeterred.
“I’m just saying,” she continued, “that Hazel has a model’s figure–just not the starved, waif–like kind the industry prefers. More the kind that makes men walk into lamp posts.”
“Oh my god,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Please stop.”
“What? It’s a compliment!” Chloe insisted. “Julian was an idiot if he tried to hide you away instead of being proud to have you on his arm.”
I lowered my hands, surprised. “How did you know that Julian didn’t like me modeling?”
Chloe’s eyes widened slightly, “I didn’t. Just guessed based on what a controlling jerk he is. Was he bothered by it?”
I nodded slowly. “He said he was worried about me being harassed. There was this photographer who kept making inappropriate comments, and Julian insisted I quit
after that.”
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“How considerate,” Damien said, his tone making it clear he thought it was anything but. “Rather than addressing the photographer’s behavior, he removed you from your
career.”
Put that way, it did seem controlling rather than protective. I’d never thought of it like that before.
“It wasn’t really a career, I clarified. “Just a side job during college. But yeah, looking back, there were a lot of red flags I missed with Julian.”
The driver cleared his throat discreetly, reminding us we’d been sitting in front of my building for several minutes.
“I should go,” I said, reaching for the door handle. “Thank you for the ride.”
“Wait,” Chloe said, grabbing my arm. “I need your phone number. We should have lunch sometime–without my stuffy brother.”
Damien arched an eyebrow at her but said nothing as I exchanged numbers with Chloe.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” Damien said after we finished.
“That’s not necessary-”
“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, already opening his door and stepping out.
Chloe gave me a not–so–subtle wink as I slid across the seat. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she whispered.
“That seems to leave a lot of options open,” I whispered back, making her laugh,
The night air was cool against my flushed skin as Damien fell into step beside me. We walked in silence toward the entrance, the space between us charged with something I couldn’t quite name–or perhaps didn’t want to.
“Your sister is…” I trailed off, searching for the right word.
“A menace?” Damien suggested wryly.
I laughed. “I was going to say ‘direct; but that works too.”
We reached the lobby, but/Damien showed no signs of turning back.
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“I can make it from here, I assured him.
“I’ll see you to your door,” he insisted. “It’s late.”
The elevator ride was excruciating. Standing next to Damien in the small, mirrored box, I could see us from every angle–how he towered over me despite my own height, how his shoulder nearly touched mine, how his eyes occasionally flickered to my reflection and then away.
I searched desperately for something to break the silence. “You and Chloe seem close. “We are,” he agreed. “Though sometimes I wonder if she was switched at birth with some other family’s troublemaker.”
That made me smile. “She’s just trying to look out for
you?”
“Is that what you call it?”
When we reached my floor, I led the way down the hall, acutely aware of Damien’s presence behind me. At my door, I turned to face him.
“Thank you again for the ride, I said, fumbling with my keys.
“About what you mentioned in the car,” Damien said suddenly. “Your modeling.”
My cheeks heated instantly. “Oh, that. It was nothing, really.”
“It wasn’t nothing. It was an experience that shaped you.” His eyes held mine steadily. “And for what it’s worth, the industry was wrong. Their loss was the design world’s gain.”
My breath caught in my throat. Was Damien Sterling complimenting my figure? The thought sent a rush of warmth through me that had nothing to do with
embarrassment.
“That’s… thank you,” I managed,
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it briefly, his expression softening. “My mother,” he explained. “Checking if we got you home safely.”
“She seems lovely,” I said, a twinge of envy piercing through me. My own mothe ad been gone for years, and the relationship I had with Eleanor was pure poison. “You’re lucky to have such a caring family.”
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Something in my voice must have given away my thoughts, because Damien’s expression grew serious.
“Family isn’t always blood, he said quietly. “Sometimes it’s the people who see your value when others don’t.”
The words hit me with unexpected force. Was he offering to be that for me? Was I reading too much into a simple platitude?
“I should let you get some rest,” he said, taking a step back. “I’ve kept you out late enough.”
“I don’t mind,” I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty.
His eyes
darkened slightly. “Careful, Hazel. Admissions like that might make me reluctant to leave.”
The air between us seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken desires. I was acutely aware of how alone we were in the hallway, how easy it would be to invite him in, how much I wanted to.
Instead, I unlocked my door and pushed it slightly open, hovering at the threshold. “Why does this feel so complicated?” I asked, not entirely meaning to say it aloud.
“Because it is,” he answered simply. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
“What does that mean?”
He took a deep breath. “It means perhaps we could dispense with some of the formality between us. You call me Mr. Sterling as if I’m decades older, when in fact, I’m only thirty–four”
“You want me to call you Damien?” I asked, my voice sounding breathler than I intended.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “And I’d like to call you Hazel, if you’re comfortable with that.”
Such a simple request, yet it felt monumental. Personal. Intimate.
“Okay… Damien,” I said, testing the name on my tongue.
Something flashed in his eyes–satisfaction, perhaps, or something deeper.
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“About your design school’s anniversary event,” he said abruptly, changing topics so fast it gave me whiplash.
“Yes?” I asked, confused by the sudden shift.
“What’s the date? I might attend if my schedule allows.”
1 blinked at him, trying to process the conversational U–turn. One moment we were having this charged, intimate moment–the next, discussing a mundane school function as if the air hadn’t been crackling between us seconds before.
“It’s on the twentieth,” I said automatically. “But you don’t need to-”
“I’ll check my calendar,” he cut in smoothly. “Goodnight, Hazel.
And then he was walking away, leaving me speechless in my doorway, wondering what the hell had just happened and why I felt so disappointed by his sudden retreat.
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