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.

The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic burned Elliana's nostrils.

She slowly peeled her eyes open. The harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room made her wince. She was lying on a narrow hospital bed, the steady beep of a heart monitor echoing in her ears.

She turned her head slightly.

Damon was sitting in a plastic chair right beside her bed. His usually immaculate white dress shirt was wrinkled and smeared with dust from the deployed airbags. His tie was gone. The top buttons were ripped open. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He looked utterly exhausted.

Hearing the rustle of the sheets, Damon's head snapped up.

He was out of the chair in a fraction of a second, hovering over her. The cold, impenetrable CEO was gone. His dark eyes were wide, frantic, and scanning every inch of her face.

"How do you feel?" His voice was tight, strained to the breaking point.

Elliana reached up and touched her forehead. Her fingers met the rough texture of a gauze bandage. She offered him a weak, reassuring smile. "My head is spinning a little. But I'm not going to die."

The curtain around her bed was pulled back. A doctor in a white coat stepped in, holding a clipboard.

"Mr. Stirling," Dr. Allen Spencer said respectfully. "The CT scan is clear. Mrs. Stirling suffered a mild concussion and some superficial lacerations. She's going to have a headache for a few days, but there's no serious trauma. We can keep her overnight for observation, or she can be discharged tonight if she prefers to rest at home."

Elliana's heart did a tiny, joyful flip. Mrs. Stirling.

Damon hadn't corrected the doctor. When he brought her in, terrified and bleeding, he had claimed her as his wife.

Damon nodded curtly to the doctor. "Thank you."

He turned back to Elliana. He didn't ask what she wanted. He simply leaned over the bed and slid one strong arm under her knees, the other behind her back.

"I want to go home," Elliana whispered, leaning into his touch.

Damon lifted her effortlessly into his arms. He held her tightly against his chest, as if terrified she might shatter if he let go.

Elliana rested her cheek against his collarbone. She could hear the rapid, heavy thud of his heartbeat. She closed her eyes, a profound sense of safety washing over her.

The drive back to the Stirling Estate was a blur. When the car finally pulled up to the grand entrance, it was past midnight.

Marge Kowalski, the head housekeeper, hurried out the front doors as Damon carried Elliana up the steps. Marge's eyes widened when she saw the bandage on Elliana's head and the protective way Damon was holding her.

Damon walked straight into the main living room and gently lowered Elliana onto the plush velvet sofa.

"Go to the kitchen," Damon ordered Marge without looking at her. "Prepare something light. Soup or porridge."

Marge nodded quickly, her posture already deferential, and turned to leave.

"Wait."

Elliana's voice was quiet, but it cut through the room with absolute authority.

Marge stopped and turned back.

Elliana studied the housekeeper's face for a long moment. The condescension she had once seen there was gone—replaced now by a wary, genuine attentiveness. Satisfied, Elliana gave a small nod. "Never mind. You can go."

Marge bowed her head and hurried toward the kitchen.

Elliana looked up at Damon. "I'm hungry. But I don't want to eat anything they make."

She pushed herself up from the sofa, but the sudden movement sent a violent wave of dizziness crashing through her skull. Her vision blurred, and her knees buckled instantly.

"Elliana!" Damon lunged forward, catching her firmly by the waist before she could hit the floor. He easily lifted her back onto the cushions, his jaw tight with anxiety.

"You have a concussion," Damon ordered, his voice harsh to mask his panic. "Sit down and stay there."

Elliana grabbed his wrists as he tried to pull away. Her grip was weak, and her head was still spinning, but her eyes were fiercely stubborn. "No. I promised you this morning. I told you I would cook for you."

"You can barely stand," Damon argued, his dark eyes flashing with frustration.

"Then I'll sit on a stool and tell you exactly what to do," she countered softly, refusing to let go of him. "Damon, starting today, I want to make food for you. I want to take care of you, even if I need your hands to do it right now."

Damon felt as if a physical blow had struck his chest. The raw, burning sincerity in her eyes scorched him. He opened his mouth to order her to stay put, but the words died in his throat. He couldn't refuse her. Not when she looked at him like that.

Elliana used his hesitation to pull herself up slightly, leaning heavily against his side. She kept her hand wrapped around his wrist and let him support her weight as they moved slowly toward the kitchen.

She pushed open the swinging doors. A young maid, Patty, was standing by the stove.

"Leave us," Elliana told the maid. "I don't need any help."

Patty scurried out, leaving the husband and wife alone in the massive, gleaming kitchen.