The silence in the lobby was so absolute that Elliana could hear the hum of the air conditioning.

Damon stared down at the paper bag, then slowly lifted his gaze to her face. He didn't reach for it. His hands remained firmly at his sides.

"What game are you playing, Elliana?" Damon's voice was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in her chest. The distrust in his tone was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Campbell Gibson stood awkwardly to the side, his eyes glued to the marble floor, wishing he could evaporate.

Elliana's smile didn't waver. She took a half-step closer, invading his personal space. "What game could I be playing? I just couldn't stand the thought of my husband working on an empty stomach."

She pushed the bag an inch closer, until the paper brushed against the fine wool of his suit jacket. "Or what? Do you think I poisoned your coffee?"

Damon's jaw tightened. A muscle feathered in his cheek.

She had hit the nail on the head. Given her explosive hatred for him over the past few months, poison wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility in his mind.

Campbell internally groaned. She's daring him, he thought. She's actually daring the boss.

Damon didn't answer her. He simply turned his body, intending to walk around her and out the door.

Elliana wasn't going to let him escape. Without thinking, she dropped the bag to her side and reached out with her free hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around his bicep.

Damon's entire body went rigid the second her hand touched him. He stopped dead in his tracks. He looked down at her small, pale hand gripping his dark sleeve. His eyes darkened, a storm brewing in the black depths.

He tried to pull his arm away, a subtle but firm movement.

Elliana held on tighter. Her grip wasn't strong enough to physically restrain him, but the sheer audacity of her touch anchored him to the spot.

"Let go," Damon ordered. His voice was freezing.

Instead of letting go, Elliana took another step forward, closing the remaining distance between them. She leaned her weight against his side, resting her head lightly against his shoulder.

"I won't," she murmured, her voice dropping to a soft, vulnerable register. "It's cold out here, Damon. Take me up to your office."

Campbell's eyes practically bugged out of his head. The executives behind them collectively inhaled. The Elliana Lewis they knew treated Damon like a disease. This woman clinging to his arm was an alien.

Damon stared down at the top of her head. His breathing hitched, a tiny, almost imperceptible break in his rhythm. He stood frozen for three agonizing seconds.

Then, without a word, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the private VIP elevator.

He didn't shake her off.

Elliana had to practically jog to keep up with his long strides, but she kept her hand firmly wrapped around his arm. Campbell scrambled to press the elevator button, staying outside as the steel doors slid shut, sealing the husband and wife inside.

The ride to the top floor was suffocatingly silent. Damon stared straight ahead at the metal doors, his body as tense as a coiled spring. Elliana stood beside him, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

The elevator chimed. The doors opened.

Damon finally ripped his arm away from her grasp and walked out, his long legs eating up the distance down the hallway. He pushed open the heavy double doors to his CEO office and walked straight to his massive desk, sitting down in his leather chair.

He opened a file folder, completely ignoring her presence.

Elliana followed him inside. The office was a stark reflection of the man: minimalist, cold, decorated entirely in shades of black, white, and slate gray.

She walked over to the glass coffee table in the center of the room. She opened the insulated bag and carefully laid out the club sandwich and the black coffee.

"You need to eat something," Elliana said softly. "It's bad for your stomach to drink coffee on an empty stomach."

Damon didn't look up from his paperwork. "I have no appetite."

Elliana sighed. She walked around the coffee table and approached his desk. She didn't stop until she was standing right in front of him. She placed both hands flat on the polished mahogany surface and leaned over, bringing her face level with his.

The subtle, sweet scent of her shampoo drifted across the desk, invading Damon's senses. His pen stopped moving.

She lowered her voice, injecting a hint of husky warmth into it. "Damon... how about I cook for you tonight? What do you want to eat?"

The words cook for you finally made Damon lift his head.

He looked at her. He looked at this pampered heiress who had never lifted a finger in her life, who had screamed that she would rather die than be his wife.

A harsh, cynical smirk twisted his lips. "What exactly can you cook? Are you planning to burn the kitchen down?"

Elliana wasn't offended. She leaned in even closer, her face mere inches from his. Her gaze dropped to his lips for a fraction of a second before meeting his eyes again.

"For you," she whispered, "I'm willing to learn anything. So... come home for dinner tonight. Please?"

Damon stared at her. The proximity was maddening. He could see the faint pulse beating at the base of her throat, right above the collar of her beige dress.

He forced his eyes back to hers, his expression hardening. He wasn't going to fall into whatever trap she was setting.

"I have a business dinner tonight," Damon said flatly.

It was a lie. His schedule was clear after six. He just needed to put a wall between them before she completely dismantled his sanity.

Elliana didn't flinch. The rejection didn't wipe the smile off her face. Instead, her smile grew softer, more understanding.

"That's okay," she said, standing up straight. "I'll wait up for you."

She turned around, walked back to the sofa, picked up the club sandwich she had brought for him, and took a delicate bite. She chewed slowly, looking around the office as if she owned the place, completely unbothered by his coldness.

Damon watched her back, a surge of intense, irrational irritation flaring in his chest. She wasn't following the rules. She wasn't throwing a tantrum. She was just... sitting there, eating the food he rejected.

He snatched the receiver off his desk phone and hit the speed dial for his assistant. "Campbell. Bring a hot milk to my office."

Two minutes later, Campbell knocked and entered, carrying a steaming mug of milk. He placed it on the coffee table in front of Elliana, casting a bewildered glance at his boss before practically fleeing the room.

Damon glared at Elliana. "Drink it and leave."

Elliana picked up the mug. She brought it to her lips, took a small sip, and then, with a subtle flick of her wrist, tilted the mug just enough.

"Ah!" she gasped.

A splash of hot milk spilled over the rim, landing directly on the front of her beige dress. A dark, wet stain immediately spread across the fabric over her thigh.

Damon's head snapped up. His brow furrowed deeply.

Elliana looked down at the stain, her eyes wide with exaggerated dismay. "Oh no. I spilled it." She looked up at Damon, biting her lower lip. "This dress is a limited edition. It's dry-clean only. I can't walk out of the building looking like this."

Damon saw right through it. The spill was too perfectly timed, too deliberate. But he couldn't exactly call her a liar and throw her out in a stained dress.

Elliana stood up. She looked around the office, her eyes landing on the sleek, unmarked door to the left of his desk.

"That's the executive lounge, right?" she asked innocently. "Do you mind if I use the bathroom to clean up?"

Without waiting for his permission, she walked past his desk, pushed the door open, and disappeared into his private suite.

Damon stared at the closed door, a muscle ticking violently in his jaw. He pinched the bridge of his nose. She was infuriating. She was an absolute menace.

Thirty minutes passed. Damon had aggressively signed his way through a stack of contracts, but the door to the lounge remained shut.

He threw his pen down. He was just about to get up and pound on the door when the handle clicked.

Elliana stepped out.

Damon's breath caught in his throat. The air in his lungs vanished.

She had taken a shower. Her long hair was damp, hanging in loose, dark waves over her shoulders. But it was what she was wearing that paralyzed him.

She was wearing one of his spare white dress shirts.

It swallowed her small frame. The hem barely reached the middle of her thighs, leaving her long, bare legs completely exposed to the cool air of the office. She hadn't buttoned it all the way up; the top three buttons were undone, revealing the delicate curve of her collarbones and the deep shadow of her cleavage.

She walked toward him, barefoot, her toes sinking into the plush carpet.

"My dress is completely soaked," Elliana said, her voice light and airy. She held up the damp beige fabric in one hand. "I had to borrow your shirt. You don't mind, do you?"

Elliana watched as Damon's eyes involuntarily tracked the movement of her bare legs. She saw his Adam's apple bob sharply as he swallowed hard, a clear sign that his throat had gone bone dry. The veins in his neck seemed to pulse with a sudden, violent intensity, revealing the internal battle he was fighting.

He gripped the armrests of his chair so hard the leather creaked. His knuckles turned stark white under the pressure. "Who told you to touch my things?" he growled, his voice an octave lower than normal.

Elliana stopped in front of his desk. She tilted her head, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes that completely contradicted the sinful picture she painted.

"But I didn't have any clothes to wear," she pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. "Damon, you wouldn't expect me to walk out of here naked, would you?"

She took the final step, rounding the desk. She reached out and lightly grabbed the cuff of his suit jacket, tugging on it gently.

"Since I look like this," she whispered, her eyes locking onto his, "you have to take me home now."

Damon stared at the small, pale fingers clutching his dark sleeve. He looked at the expanse of her bare thighs, the damp hair clinging to her neck, the oversized shirt that smelled like his own laundry detergent.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to grab her hips, pull her across the desk, and show her exactly what happened when she played with fire.

"Get out," Damon forced the words through his gritted teeth.

But he didn't pull his arm away.

Elliana knew she had won. The tension radiating off his body was electric. She let go of his sleeve, rose up on her tiptoes, and pressed a lightning-fast kiss to his tightly pressed lips.

Damon's pupils dilated instantly. His entire body locked up, rigid as stone.

Elliana pulled back, a triumphant, mischievous smile lighting up her face. "That's your reward for taking me home."

She blinked, her eyelashes fluttering. "Or... we don't have to go home. We could just stay here. In your lounge. Overnight. What do you think?"

The match struck the gasoline.

Damon surged upward. The heavy leather chair rolled back and slammed into the wall. He closed the distance between them in a fraction of a second, his large hands gripping her shoulders. He spun her around and shoved her back until her spine hit the solid wood of the bookshelf.

His tall frame caged her in completely. He planted one hand on the shelf beside her head, his other hand coming up to grip her jaw. His fingers were hot, his grip firm but not bruising.

"Elliana Lewis," Damon rasped, his voice a dangerous, ragged whisper. "Do you have any idea what you are doing right now?"

Elliana didn't shrink back. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might crack her ribs, but she held his furious, burning gaze. Slowly, deliberately, she darted her tongue out and licked her own bottom lip-the exact spot she had just pressed against his mouth.

Damon's breathing shattered.

His head dipped. He was a millimeter away from crushing his mouth against hers, a millimeter away from losing every ounce of control he had spent months building.

But then, he stopped. He squeezed his eyes shut, a visible tremor wracking his broad shoulders.

He let go of her jaw. He took a massive step back, putting physical space between them. In one fluid motion, he ripped his suit jacket off and threw it hard at her chest.

"Put it on," he ordered, his voice shaking with suppressed rage and lust. "And follow me."

He was taking her home.

Elliana caught the jacket, hiding a victorious smile behind the lapels. She slipped her arms into the sleeves, the heavy wool hanging down to her knees, completely covering her bare legs. She hurried after him.

They walked to the private elevator in silence. Damon's strides were punishingly fast, as if he were fleeing a burning building. He hit the button for the underground parking garage. He didn't look at her once during the descent.

In the concrete cavern of the garage, Damon walked straight to his black Maybach. He pulled the passenger door open for her, his movements stiff and robotic.

Elliana slid into the leather seat. Damon slammed the door, walked around the hood, and got into the driver's seat. He started the engine with a violent twist of the key.

The ride through the city was suffocating. The silence in the car was so thick it felt like water pressure. Damon stared straight ahead at the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

Elliana peeked at his rigid profile. She felt a warm flutter in her stomach. This Damon-the one fighting a losing battle against his own desire-was infinitely more intoxicating than the man who had simply endured her abuse in her past life.

They approached a major intersection. The light for their lane was green. Damon accelerated slightly to pass through.

Suddenly, a massive delivery truck blew through the red light on the intersecting street, hurtling directly toward the passenger side of the Maybach.

Damon saw the blur of motion out of the corner of his eye. His face drained of blood.

He slammed on the brakes and violently jerked the steering wheel to the left. At the exact same moment, he threw his entire upper body across the center console. His right arm wrapped around Elliana's head and shoulders, crushing her face into his chest, shielding her with his own body.

CRASH.

The sound of twisting metal and shattering glass was deafening. The impact threw the Maybach violently to the side. The airbags deployed with an explosive pop, filling the cabin with white smoke and the smell of burnt powder.

Despite Damon's desperate attempt to shield her, the violent whiplash of the collision threw Elliana forward. Her forehead slammed hard against the side window before rebounding into the airbag.

A blinding flash of white light exploded behind her eyes. A sharp, agonizing pain lanced through her skull. The world began to spin wildly out of control.

As the darkness rushed up to swallow her, the last thing she heard was a voice tearing through the chaos.

"Elliana! Elliana!"

It was Damon. His voice was cracked, frantic, and filled with a raw, primal terror she had never heard from him before.