Cecilia could still feel Damon Sinclair’s gaze on her long after he had finished speaking. It was unsettling, the way his sharp gray eyes had flickered to her in a room full of powerful people, as if he knew exactly who she was.
As the gala resumed its hum of conversations and clinking glasses, Lucas leaned in close, his voice just above a whisper. “That was dangerous.”
She arched a brow. “What was?”
Lucas scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, Ceci. You caught Sinclair’s attention.”
She swirled the champagne in her glass, keeping her expression cool. “Maybe he just finds me charming.”
“Or maybe he knows you’re snooping around his empire.” Lucas’s voice was sharp, edged with concern. “You should leave before you get in over your head.”
Cecilia met his gaze, the familiar fire of challenge burning in her chest. “Too late for that.”
Lucas sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Damn it, Ceci—”
“Miss Monroe.”
A deep, commanding voice interrupted, sending a jolt through her.
She turned to find herself face-to-face with Damon Sinclair.
Up close, he was even more devastatingly intense. His sharp features were chiseled in the soft glow of the chandeliers, his gray eyes studying her with an unreadable expression. The scent of expensive cologne and something inherently him curled around her senses.
Cecilia swallowed. She had faced dangerous men before, but none like him.
Damon’s lips curled into a slight smirk. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met.”
Cecilia tilted her chin, keeping her voice steady. “Cecilia Monroe.”
He took her hand, his grip firm but not forceful. “Damon Sinclair.”
As if she didn’t already know.
His touch was warm, his fingers brushing against her skin just long enough to make her pulse tick up.
Lucas cleared his throat, stepping closer. “Sinclair.”
Damon’s gaze flickered to him, unimpressed. “Detective Hayes.”
Tension crackled between them. Cecilia could practically feel the weight of unspoken history.
Damon turned his attention back to her. “I’d like to have a private word with you, Miss Monroe.”
Lucas stiffened. “She’s busy.”
Cecilia flashed a sweet smile. “Actually, I’m free.”
Lucas shot her a look, but she ignored it. If Damon Sinclair wanted to talk, she would listen.
Damon gestured toward a hallway leading to the private rooms. “Shall we?”
She nodded, following him without hesitation.
⋆⋆⋆
The private office was sleek, modern, and impersonal—like the man himself. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, and a dark wooden desk sat at the center of the room.
Damon closed the door behind her, his gaze unreadable.
“You’re not just here for the party.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it. “Are you, Miss Monroe?”
Her stomach tightened, but she kept her expression calm. “You’re quite direct, Mr. Sinclair.”
His smirk was slow, dangerous. “I don’t have time for games.”
Cecilia crossed her arms. “Then let’s be honest. Why did you bring me here?”
Damon stepped closer, the air between them growing charged. “Because I know exactly who you are.”
Her breath caught, but she forced herself to stay still. “Oh?”
He leaned in, his voice a whisper against her ear.
“And I have a proposition for you.”
.
.
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