Damien Cross's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Damien Cross could have every woman in Ivywraith except the one he wanted. He stood outside her bookshop looking at the door with his signature frown. He didn’t even know what to say or do this time, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to see her. He had never known that feeling before. It made his jaw tighten. He pushed the door open. A bell chimed. Warm light spilled over crooked shelves and stacks of secondhand books. Behind the counter, Lily Grace looked up. Her brown hair caught the lamplight, streaks of blonde running through it. She looked up meeting his eyes. “Are you going to actually buy something this time or are you just here to bother me?” She asked in a sarcastic tone so cute it made his lips turn up into a smirk “Neither," Damien said. He took a step closer. "I wanted to see you." "Everyone in this town has seen you, Damien." She briefly met his eyes before quickly blushing and averting her gaze from him. "I know what happens to the women you go to see. I sell them the books they cry into afterward." He leaned close, using the voice that always worked. "You're different." She answers with silence. The tension is thick. Damien can tell she feels it too. This attraction between them is undeniable. He takes a daring step even closer to her just as the bell chimes on the door signaling someone has entered the bookshop. The sound causes them both to jump. Then a man in a gray suit walked towards them. He carried a folder and no smile. Lily's hands went still on the counter. "Miss Grace," the man said. "The bank sent me. Your parents' loan is due in thirty days. After that, we take the building." The color left her face. She gripped the edge of the counter. "I'll have it," she said. Her voice shook. "I always find it." "Thirty days," the man repeated. He left the folder and walked out. The bell chimed again, thin and cold. Lily stared at the papers. For one moment her armor was gone. Damien saw the fear underneath, the weight she carried alone since her parents died. She looked young and tired and unbeaten. He wanted her more, and it startled him. "I don't need your pity," she said, not looking up. "You don't have it," Damien answered. That, at least, was true. He walked out before she could throw him out. On the step he stopped and thought. Charm had failed. Words had failed. She would refuse anything he offered to her face. But she had a debt with a number and a deadline, and numbers did not care whose money paid them. Damien pulled out his phone. "Find out who holds the loan on the bookshop," he told his banker. "Buy it quietly. She can never know it's me." He hung up. He finally had a way in. And if she ever learned the truth, he would lose her for good.